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“Such a pristine thing for such a bad boy to do,” she mocks. “You slept last night.”
I don’t bother responding.
“Are we going to talk about this morning?” she asks.
I wait her out, curious if she’ll mention my reaction. I don’t normally physically react to situations. I don’t have to. My size intimidates, and my quietness makes people uneasy and uncertain. But when she said he got handsy with her and she wasn’t sure if he was going to hurt her or not, I snapped. And if she hadn’t brought me to the ground and climbed on top of me, I would have found him and showed him exactly what happens when people touch things that don’t belong to them.
“Not here.”
She plows past my warning and gives me a warning of her own. “They’re not done with us. For everything you’re doing, they’re trying to do it back.”
I fold my arms and extend my legs out into the open space between us. She has no real semblance of who I am or what I’m capable of. She views me as a hacker, someone who can break into a system or a phone and play around. Her notions of that are anecdotal—as in what she’s read in books or magazines or seen in Hollywood films and television. I didn’t get into computers or even hacking when I was a teenager or going to college the way most do. I also don’t need to live in an empty apartment, wear all black with a permanent hoodie over my head, cover my face with a mask, or walk around with either no ID or six fake ones.
There’s a reason behind that.
But this isn’t the place for that reassurance.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, her gaze scrolling over me. “You’re dragged into the middle of this.”
She’s tried to warn me about this a few times, but that’s simply because Georgia worries I’m going to run the first chance I get or fire at her that I had no clue what I was getting into with this. But the truth is, she’s distrustful of me with good reason. I walked away from her in the past and have no perceptible skin in this game other than my guilt over being a shitty friend and breaking her heart six years ago. She doesn’t need to know the other reason why I’m here. It won’t help either of us.
I simply stare at her. “We’re married, baby. It’s all going to be fine.”
She shakes her head at my partially mocking tone, her teeth working her bottom lip in a way that makes me jealous of her teeth. “I don’t know what comes next,” she states, an air of defeat and uncertainty in her voice. “I was hoping this would be the end, but it somehow feels like I’m back at the beginning again.”
Vegas and the mountains in the distance bloom around us, and she rises from her seat, walks over to the glass, and peers out at the obscurity and contradiction that is Las Vegas. Flashing lights against sprawling nature. I don’t answer her. Not only is she not interested in a response, but my phone rings, cutting off any need for one.
I slip my phone out and glance up and around the booth. Then I answer. “We’re stealing a moment together on the High Roller.”
Zax clears his throat. “You’re with Georgia? I tried calling her, and she didn’t answer.”
“I am. I’ll put you on speaker, but remember what I said.” Meaning there are cameras and possibly audio that could be accessed by anyone, and it’s far from secure.
I set the phone down on the seat beside me, and Zax’s aggravated growl comes through. “Your phone is off, Georgia.”
Her eyes snap wide and she digs through her purse. “Right. Sorry. I shut it off after the press bombarded us.” She holds the button on her phone. “Back on now. Happy?”
“Georgia!” Aurelia’s screech comes through the phone, making Georgia laugh. “Zax was worried, but I’m planning. When do you both come to Boston next?”
Georgia crosses the pod and takes the seat on the other side of my phone. “I don’t know,” she says, her voice changing its tone. “It was supposed to be Tuesday, but… I don’t want to stay here anymore, and I don’t see why I need to.”
“Fabulous. Zax is sending the Monroe plane to bring you both home.” I watch as Georgia tenses at the word plane. “We don’t want you flying commercial after this morning. Your pretty faces are all over the internet.”
Georgia shakes her head in annoyed aggravation but doesn’t say anything about the plane. “I’m supposed to stay here for the rest of the conference. I’m already ditching out this morning.”
“I think this is more important, and while I know Monroe Securities is very important to you, what are you actually missing there? I think it’s better if you’re back here with us right now, given everything we’re starting to learn.”
She sighs. She knows Zax has a point. One I’m inclined to agree with. Georgia isn’t a quitter. She is loyal beyond words, but right now, it’s just not safe for her to be around Ezra, or likely even Alfie, with how he’s coming down on her.
“Fine,” she relents. “We’ll fly home.”
“Excellent!” Aurelia chirps. “Then we’re planning your wedding party.”
I groan but release an indulgent smirk all the same. I should have anticipated this. It is Aurelia, after all.
“Our wedding party?” Georgia parrots, her attention drawing up to me.
“It’ll just be family, as in our family, but I think it’s important to celebrate this together. Don’t you?”
