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“He’s coming this way,” Gina whispers. “Don’t act drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Says the guy who isthatdrunk.”
I laugh. “You’re not making any sense, Calvetti.”
“Daniel.” Kade reaches out a hand in greeting. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for you. I’m glad to see you made it.”
“I said I would,” I say as I shake his hand. “The club is packed. That’s great for your bottom line.”
The truth is Kade Benton is pulling in millions a year from several different enterprises. This club and another in Manhattan are just a small part of his revenue stream.
“What can I say?” He chuckles. “We’ve been rated the number one club in Vegas for three years running.”
“Congratulations!” Gina pipes up.
“Kade, this is Gina…”
“Calvetti,” Kade cuts me off. “I’d know that face anywhere. Welcome to Veil West, Gina. We’re happy you’ve graced us with your presence tonight.”
“I love your club.” She beams from ear to ear. “The music is fantastic. The staff is awesome, and your shots are superb.”
“I’ll get you another round.” He motions toward another server. “All of your drinks are on the house tonight.”
“Thank you.” Gina smiles. “Daniel and I are celebrating.”
Kade looks at me, but I shrug, so he turns his attention back to Gina. “What’s the occasion?”
Her gaze locks on mine. “Tonight is the night Daniel gets his first tattoo.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Gina
I scratchmy eyebrow as I watch Daniel have an animated discussion with the tattoo artist that Kade recommended. I was half-joking back at the club when I said that we were celebrating Daniel getting a tattoo, but he didn’t flinch.
He was on board immediately, and when Kade suggested this tattoo shop on the strip, I grabbed my purse and was set to go.
Daniel wanted another celebratory shot, so he enjoyed that before we said goodbye to Kade. He arranged for us to be taken to the tattoo shop by one of the drivers employed by the club to transport the VIP clients wherever they desire in Sin City in the comfort of a luxury car.
The discussion ends with the tattoo artist patting Daniel’s shoulder.
I glide to my feet, wishing that I had made a pit stop in my hotel suite to change out my shoes. The red sparkly ones I’m wearing may look like they came straight out of a movie about a wizard who lives in a place called Oz, but they are too tight.
The shoes and the dress are both from a Seattle based clothing boutique I’ve never worked with before. They reached out via direct message on social media when I posted that I was coming to Las Vegas.
After some negotiation and a good-sized deposit in my bank account, they sent the items via overnight courier to my suite here. I put them on hours ago so I could take a picture in the courtyard of the hotel.
Our transaction is a rousing success in their eyes since both the dress and the shoes have sold out already, according to a text message the boutique’s owner sent me less than five minutes ago.
Daniel sprints toward me with a grin on his lips. “I’m all set, Gina.”
“You’re actually going through with it?” I question for a second time.
The first time was when we got in the car. I suspected that Daniel’s excitement about getting inked was all a show for Kade, but he assured me that wasn’t the case.
He only waffled briefly when he told me that Kade resides in Manhattan, so he wasn’t sure about his recommendation on the tattoo artist, but I chased that worry away when I found the Instagram page of the woman set to take a needle to Daniel’s skin. Her name is Angel, and her work is stunning, so it’s obvious Kade Benton knows exactly what he’s talking about.
