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DEMYEN
Bambi pulled through with my early morning text for her to grab some clothes for Clara. As gorgeous as she looks in that sequined cocktail dress, it’s not suited for breakfast. She’d only look like every other woman doing the Walk of Shame, and there is absolutely nothing for her to be ashamed of.
Not on my arm, anyway.
She’s been pleasant all morning, and pleasantly surprised when the linen dress arrived for her to slip on. Paired, of course, with comfortable sandals that won’t aggravate her ankle.
But Clara has also been quiet.
In the shower, she was quiet, at least until I made her cry out my name and spasm on my cock again. The beautiful afterglow spread across her delicate cheekbones and tinted the curve of her neck as I dried her off.
She was quiet while we dressed, except when she smiled at me and thanked me for everything.
Our walk to the car was quiet, too, save for the few required comments about checking out and giving my chauffeur the address to her friend’s place. Once inside the car, Clara shifted her gaze out the window and hasn’t spoken a word since.
It’s been ten minutes.
I’m losing my goddamn mind.
I pretend to check something on my phone. As I do, I see a few missed text messages in the notifications. But before I can open the first one, Clara finally says something.
“If anything happens to my daughter… or me…” She sighs and slowly turns her gaze to me. “You’ll have the Las Vegas Police Department to deal with.”
I stifle a laugh. If only she knew how empty of a threat that really is to a man like me. “That’s usually the case when things happen to people.”
“No. I mean…” She shakes her head and rubs the bridge of her nose. “My ex. Willow’s father. He’s a detective on the force. And my dad is his boss.”
I snort. “Wow. Okay. Tell me how you really feel.”
“I don’t know.” Her voice takes on a new edge. There’s a desperation in the corners of her eyes, almost like a panic. “I don’t know how to feel,” she says again. “Last night was…” Her mouth quirks in a wistful smile, then fades just as quickly as it appears. “I have a child. Achild. And I don’t know you, and?—”
“You don’t know if you can trust me.”
I get it. I do, truly. The bruising around her ankle is a colorful reminder of what her trust in men she “knew” earned her; there’s no telling what a man she doesn’t know would do.
I’d applaud her instincts if I wasn’t feeling so offended.
“It’s nothing personal,” she adds.
“It never is.” I know I’m being abrupt, and I need to stop it. Especially if I need her to trust me to do the right thing by her and her kid. So I offer her a playful little smile and take her hand in mine. “Listen. LVPD will never darken the doors of my estate. They wouldn’t dare. You’re safe. Your daughter is safe. And I get the feeling that neither one of us wants to see that asshole’s face any time soon.”
That earns me a small laugh. Clara nods. “Thanks.” She sniffs and sits up a bit straighter, confidence settling into her limbs. “Thank you, Demyen. Really. I don’t know how to repay you.”
I have several ideas. None of them involve clothing.
“We’ll figure something out,” I assure her with a coy wink. It takes a moment for the meaning to sink in, and when it does, that pretty blush pinks her skin.
I’ve never liked the color pink until I met this woman. Now, all I ever want to do is lick it.
She pulls her hand from mine to fiddle with the hem of her dress. I pretend like it doesn’t suddenly bother me, because it shouldn’t. But it does.
Distractions. I need distractions, and I need them right now. So I flip to the messages in my phone and do my best to focus on work.
It’s not difficult, because the first message I open yanks my full attention.
CHARLES:Medusa’s Wrath jackpot winner tried cashing out. I caught up with her and comped her a high-roller suite.
CHARLES: Thought you should know—fingerprints pulled up a few records.
