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Something deep, deep down is savoring the way that, this time, it’s Martin gasping for air and wondering how he ended up there on the floor.
How do you likethat, motherfucker?
I don’t allow myself to linger any longer, even if it feels incredible to be the one on top for once. If I can’t find Demyen in the next five minutes, I’m ordering an Uber, grabbing Willow, and getting us the hell out of Vegas.
I follow the hallway to circle around the ballroom—I don’t want or need to run into Raizo’s men. I don’t care what business he has with Demyen, I just don’t trust him.
And, truth be told, I’m having a hard time trusting Demyen right now, too.
I’m almost to the double doors that lead to the side lobby of the casino when a door to my left opens.
“Clara.”
Fuck.I can’t win.
Dad clears his throat and gestures for me to follow him. “We need to talk.”
“But—”
“Now.”
28
CLARA
“I really need to go,” I plead.
“No shit.” He leads me into what looks like a small lounge room with doors that must lead to the men’s restroom. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Time to lie. “I’m… Demyen’s date.”
Lie better than that.
Dad narrows his eyes. “Bullshit. That man doesn’t even hire his own escorts for events like this.”
I shrug. There’s a lot about Demyen I can’t begin to explain, much less figure out. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m his date, and I’m just waiting for him to get back from a meeting.”
“A ‘meeting.’” Dad scoffs and shakes his head. “Right.”
He sits down on one of the leather loveseats and stretches his limbs out like he lives there. But that’s always been his way: making himself at home wherever he doesn’t belong.
I don’t know what he wants to talk to me about. But as I look at him, I get this nagging feeling that this time, I’m the one who should be leading the conversation.
“I’m surprised to see you here, Dad. Official police business?”
He chuckles, genuinely, like it’s a funny joke I’m not in on. “Something like that.”
“Explains why Martin is here.”
Dad shifts his hard glare to me again. “You need to stop tormenting that man. Give him a chance.”
I am not riding this godforsaken Ferris wheel with him. “It’s over between us. It should have been over years ago. Andyoushould have stood by me this whole time instead of?—”
“Of what? Supporting my partner?” Dad throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “What do you want me to do?”
I focus my attention on fishing for a tissue in my handbag to dab at the tears stinging my eyes. I’m shaking, but not from fear. Maybe a little. But mostly, I’m shaking with adrenaline at realizing that now, here, we’re about to have the conversation we should have had years ago.
My eyes land on Bambi’s phone.
