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"Save it, Shelby." I roll my eyes.
"Shut the hell up," she scolds me. "I love that bracelet. If you saw it on the floor, I need to go pick it up."
She starts to slide her chair back from the table, but I place my hand on her shoulder. "You probably buy those bracelets in bulk. You dropped it there so on your way back from the bathroom, you could pretend to spot it on the floor. You asked the woman if it was her bracelet knowing that both she and her husband would look down. That's when you slipped his wallet into your open purse. You counted on the fact that they'd be busy trying to find the bracelet's rightful owner so they wouldn't notice immediately that the wallet is missing. By the time they did, you'd be out the door."
"You're insane." She tries to rise against my touch, but I don't relent. "You're harassing me. I have a headache. I want to go."
I drop my hand to my side. "I gave my phone to my friend and told her to call my supervisor. Resort security will be here any second. You'll need to stay to speak to them about the wallet."
"I don't need to do anything." She shakily gets to her feet. "You're wrong about what you think you saw. The only wallet inside my purse is my own."
"Prove it." Nolan empties the tumbler in front of him with a single swallow before he stands.
His tall frame is imposing. The stern expression on his face only adds to how intimidating he is. He leisurely buttons his gray suit jacket, his eyes capturing mine for a brief second before he looks at her.
"You're not funny, Nolan." She chuckles nervously, her hands cradling her clutch to her chest. "You can't seriously think I would do this. You have to be joking."
"Do I look like I'm fucking joking?"
I wait for Shelby to answer but the only sound she makes is a faint wheezing noise. I've seen this happen to other people caught with their hand where it shouldn't be. She's on the verge of a panic attack.
"You don't look like you're fucking joking," I say, peering up at him.
I see the corner of his mouth dart up quickly before his lips firm into a straight line. "Open your purse now, Shelby. If you have nothing to hide, there's no harm in it."
"I have personal things in here," she whines.
"Such as?" he asks with an arch of his brow.
"I was hoping you'd invite me back to your suite." She exhales slowly. "I have condoms, Nolan. I bought condoms for later. I have them in my purse."
"You wasted your money," he says flatly.
"What?" she snaps back. "What are you talking about?"
"We went on two dates last month, Shelby." He crosses his arms. "They were fine. You were fun."
"They were the best two dates I've ever had," she confesses quietly. "We have something special."
It's impossible not to feel as though I'm eavesdropping, yet I don't move a muscle. I stand in place, riveted to the conversation happening in front of me.
"You repeatedly called me your boyfriend just now." He sighs, shaking his head. "I'm many things, but your boyfriend isn't one of them."
"You are my boyfriend," she insists with a lift of her chin. "This is our third date. You made love to me twice. Technically, that makes you my boyfriend. Any woman would tell me I'm right about that."
No. Any woman would tell her that she's lucky, not right, but damn lucky.
He glares at her. "We had lunch and then we fucked. Two weeks later, we had dinner and then we fucked again. Technically, that doesn't make me anything to you."
"It makes you my boyfriend," she argues. "You asked me to join you here in Vegas. Why would you do that if you weren't my boyfriend?"
He adjusts the knot of his navy blue tie. "You're here for a modeling job. I'm here for business. You're the one who suggested we meet here at Meadow Grill for dinner."
"Yes." She nods eagerly. "That's what couples do when they're in the same place, Nolan. They have dinner, and then they spend the night together."
"We are not a couple," he growls.
She dismisses his words with a wave of her hand in the air. "Yes, we are. This is just an argument. We'll kiss and make up later."
