I let my fingers glide against the beautiful tan leather seat, the type of luxury poor-girl dreams are made of. The plane is so roomy and beautiful. Although I wanted to fly commercial, Kimber advised it would be easier to fly private as it would decrease my travel time. I was hesitant at first but ultimately agreed.
Staring out the window and watching us ascend, I grip the wooden armrests. With shaking hands, I put a piece of gum in my mouth, taking Janelle’s advice so my ears don’t pop. I shut my eyes and lean my head against the cushy seat, not letting myself think about the plane crashing. But the second my mind starts to run, I wish I had death on my mind, because all I can think about is Vincent and what will become of this trip.
The plane finally stabilizes and I open my eyes, slowly at first. Staring out the window, I’m in awe of the blue sky with nothing but the clouds below me.
Pulling out my laptop, I read about Nevada’s history with the Tribe. Regardless of what is or isn’t happening between Vincent and me, I’ve been paid to do a job and I’m nothing if not competent. I always stay on task, no matter what craziness is going on around me. This way, if things go belly up, I have my work to fall back on.
“Hello. I’m Alina, your stewardess for the flight. Are you comfortable?”
I hum out a “Yes,” not looking up from my screen.
“Would you like a drink?” Her soft voice asks.
“Sure,” I continue to stare at my monitor.
“Water? Orange juice? A cocktail perhaps?”
“Huh?” I look up at her, exasperated at the constant interruptions. My eyes lock on her face and I pause. She’s gorgeous and tall, with long blonde hair and clear blue eyes. Her tight navy dress shows off her slight curves. Deep in my gut, I know this is Vincent’s type. Or at least, I always figured this was the type of girl who suits him best. Model perfect. I immediately feel stung, wondering if he’s been with her. I can just imagine the two of them on this plane, her listening to his every command. I can get on my knees, Vincent. You want me to bend over like this, Vincent? Bitch! Between these wide seats and the private bedroom in the back, he would have opportunities abounding.
She gives me a small smile, and I do my best not to glare. I want to strangle her.
“Non-carbonated water is fine, thank you,” I reply, my voice curt. I watch as she glides to the back of the cabin, narrow hips swaying with each step.
I swallow hard, embarrassed by my rude behavior as well as angry at myself for even caring. This woman has done nothing wrong. Okay, so maybe Vincent fucked her a million times on this plane—it shouldn’t mean anything to me. She comes back to my seat and hands me my drink with a courteous smile. I take it and blink back my emotion before facing the window.
My email dings letting me know I have a new message in my inbox; the Wi-Fi on the plane makes it incredibly easy to refocus on my tasks. I refresh my browser, seeing five new messages from Jonathan. He’s forever working like crazy to keep his spot as partner.
After Jonathan’s divorce, he told me of his utter relief not to have a wife annoying him any longer to come home for dinner or spend time with the kids. His words were, “I can finally work in peace.”
Is this how I’m going to spend my life? Alone with my work, nothing but the work, so help me God?
The plane lands smoothly. I walk to the door, rolling my suitcase behind me and politely thanking Alina and the captain for the trip. I step outside into the sunlight, finding a huge guy with a buzz cut, black T-shirt, jeans, and heavy work boots watching me from the bottom of the steps. I drop my sunglasses over my eyes and pop a fresh piece of gum into my mouth as I take the stairs from the plane’s door onto the tarmac. He immediately grabs my bags as he leads the way to an extra-long black Escalade. As he places my things in the trunk, I make myself comfortable in the plush black leather seat.
He finally gets into the car, sitting in the chair next to mine. “Hey Mark, we’re ready to go.” His voice is deep.
The car begins to drive. “Welcome to Nevada. You must be thirsty.” Pulling out a bottle of water from a cooler on the floor, he hands me one. Before I can take it out of his grip, we make eye contact—it’s almost like a standoff. “So, you’re Eve, huh?” His green eyes squint like he knows exactly who I am. I’m momentarily surprised, wondering what he’s heard.
I raise my eyebrows, pursing my lips as I pull the water away from him. “Yes. And you are?” I look him up and down, noticing his body is corded with heavy muscle and his arms are sleeved with colorful ink. I can only imagine Lauren right now; she’d be going insane over him.
“Slade,” he says, introducing himself. “I head security for the Milestone.” A small smirk forms his lips, but it’s clear he isn’t hitting on me. An alarm rings in my head: who is this man to Vincent? I gather my wits and get into questioning mode.
“So, where did you work before this?” I cross my legs and type out a quick message to Lauren about landing, trying to act as if I’m making casual conversation and don’t care too much about his response. Meanwhile, I’m on complete alert, waiting to hear what he says so I can accurately gauge who he is in Vincent’s life.
“I was in the Navy. Came home and met Vincent at the gym. The rest is history,” he replies, not unkindly.
I tilt my head to the side, wondering if he’s Borignone muscle. “Well, you must know him and his family.” I’m watching his face intently to see if he understands my implication.
His body stiffens before letting out a quick laugh. “I know you’ve got lots of grit. But let’s get one thing straight. I’m not here to hurt you. In fact, it’s the opposite. While you’re here, if there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask me.” He pulls out a card from the pocket in the seat in front of him and hands it to me; I scan it with my eyes. It has all his contact info on it.
I stop my bitch routine for a second and take a good look at the man next to me. He’s scary looking and big. His light eyes are kind, but there is damage lurking beneath their depths—as though he’s been to war and back. For a strange reason, I trust him. This isn’t another friend of Vincent’s whom I should be afraid of.
I nod my head silently as my internal fume meter simmers down. The rest of the ride, I do nothing other than stare out the window, watching the magnificent red mountains ahead. I’ve never seen natural beauty like this in my entire life.
When we finally reach our destination, Slade pulls out my suitcases from the trunk and hands them to me. I thank him graciously.
Strutting into the lobby with my heels clicking against the floor, I take stock of what’s around me. The hotel is beautiful and impossibly serene. The lobby is all tans, whites, and creams. Limestone floors and walls give the entire place an upscale but earthy feel. Glass windows encase the north side of the lobby, showing spectacular mountain views. It’s simply perfect.
I check in with the concierge, a brunette, thank God, who accepts my firm’s credit card along with my driver’s license. Within seconds, my bags are taken and a cold towel is offered to me by a member of the hotel staff. I press it against my neck and forehead in relief as I’m told my room is ready.
Following the bellboy through an outdoor hallway, we stop to enter room 403. It’s a stunning suite facing the desert land; tall sand-colored mountains loom in the distance. As he sets down my luggage, I step onto the terrace and see a small, round private fire pit and two chairs. The room is the epitome of seclusion and comfort. I wonder if this is the style Vincent is going toward for the Mile. From the work I’ve done so far, I know it isn’t obvious and in-your-face bells and whistles like the Vegas Strip. Instead, it has all the gambling and excitement minus the phony factor. The files mentioned building the Milestone to blend with its surroundings, and I can’t wait to see what he came up with.
I hand the bellboy a tip and he nods his thanks before exiting. Pulling off my shoes and shift dress and letting them drop onto the floor, I unceremoniously plop on the fluffy white bed to find a printed schedule
on the pillow. Apparently, reservations for dinner have been made for me at six in the hotel lobby. Lauren must have taken care of this, thank goodness.
After showering, and put on a clean pair of jeans and a fresh shirt. After applying a minimal amount of makeup, I secure my dark hair with a clip. Grabbing a black cashmere sweater, I make my way to the hotel bar.
I try to relax in the black barstool, ordering a glass of white wine from the bartender. After my first sip, I decide that I can’t let Vincent rule me. I have to separate my emotions from reality and just set out the facts. I pull out my phone and open my Notes app.
Since Vincent has returned...
I have a large new client and will likely make a lot more money
He and I have agreed to leave the past where it belongs
I still have my fantastic career and apartment
I want to write more, but I can’t, because there IS nothing more. I shake out my shoulders, feeling satisfied. Just as Janelle and I discussed, there is literally zero to do other than get the work done; our history can’t have any bearing on my career. Regardless of why we ended, we’re finished. Today, I am Vincent’s attorney, sent here to conduct due diligence on the Milestone. And Vincent is simply an important client.
Another sip of the wine and I smile confidently, feeling proud of my clear thought process and dissection of the issue when someone takes the seat next to mine.
“Hi. You’re here.”
I turn to the deep voice. The smile on his lips practically throws me off the seat. Fluttering takes over my stomach. I swallow hard, trying to regain a semblance of control.
“Y-yes, I-I guess I am. Here, I mean. I’m here.”
Vincent’s eyes crinkle at the corners, as if he’s trying not to laugh at my stuttering.
“Come with me,” he whispers with a smile. But I stay cemented in my seat, unmoving. A few moments pass and I watch as his initial happiness becomes tinged with apprehension.
More time is needed to sort this out—clearly, my list wasn’t nearly expansive enough. This is Vincent Borignone, not a grocery list. The beat of my heart picks up its pace. “Actually,” I start, clearing my throat. “I have a reservation soon. I shouldn’t cancel.”
We both turn our heads to peer inside the restaurant. My hope of delaying this meeting is smashed; the restaurant is completely empty. Shit.
“Dinner is with me tonight. Come.” I can tell from his tone that he’s annoyed with me. Standing up, he gives his large hand for me to take. I stare at it nervously, as though it may bite me.
He presses his lips in a firm line before exhaling. “We’ve got work to discuss, okay?”
“But, where are we—”
“For once in your life, don’t think. Just come.”
“Anytime a man tells me not to think—”
He cuts me off with deep laughter and I roll my eyes, trying to stop my smile. Does he remember the time at Goldbar when we had a similar conversation?
“We’ll discuss work, yeah? I’m not trying to get you naked, Eve. There’s no reason to be nervous.” His dark eyebrows move up his forehead as if he’s daring me.
I let out an awkward laugh. “Naked?” I swallow hard, the visual of a nude Vincent steamrolling through my head, down my body and settling in my core. “I don’t think you’re trying to get me… naked.” I shake my head vehemently. “I mean, obviously not.” A shiver runs up my arms as I force my eyes away from him.
“Exactly,” he says, his voice deep and seductive. “We’re doing business.” He’s so rational. I want to strangle him!
I internally huff, gathering myself. “Well, maybe I don’t believe it’s appropriate to do business in the evening hours.” I want to sound haughty, but instead, my words come out like a nervous question.
His eyes narrow. Oh, shit.
Instead of cowering like the rest of the universe would likely do, I lift my head in defiance. The last thing I want is for Vincent to believe I’m anxious around him. I mean, if anyone should be awkward, it’s him. I’ve done nothing wrong. If he’s okay with seeing me, I’m more than okay to see him.
“Fine. If you think there is certain work better to do this evening, then I guess so be it.” I hop off the stool, pretending that his hand isn’t in my line of sight and that he isn’t offering it to me. We get to the front of the hotel when I see a huge motorcycle sparkling under the orange lamplight; it’s silver and chrome with a heavy black leather seat. I turn to Vincent with uncertainty, but he only smirks. We walk to the beast of a motorcycle and he lifts a small helmet from a bag hanging off to the side, securing it on my head before putting on his own. Jumping on, he gives me his hand. I remind myself: Work purposes. Holding onto his warm palm, I gingerly climb onto the back of the bike; our bodies are flush.
“Make sure you lean with me on the turns, okay? Don’t be scared. There’s no traffic. Driving on open roads is a dream.”
I say a little thank you for this fully covered helmet because if he saw the look on my face, he’d know I’m dying inside. Between pressing against Vincent’s hard back and the way my legs are splayed across this vibrating seat, the throb that started up in the restaurant is now pulsing.
I tentatively wrap my hands around his midsection, because hey—I don’t want to die. Fortunately for my body, my hands immediately find the ripped muscles of his abdomen. God, he feels so good. It’s almost like holding onto an unmovable wall. Moments later, we’re off; the wind rushes around us like a curtain as the bike roars, my hair flying out from beneath the helmet.
“Oh, fuck it,” I think, pressing my face against his muscled back and taking in his scent. So good.
11
VINCENT
I pull up to my trailer; it’s on a quiet sandy patch on the rez. Getting off the bike first, I move to lift Eve in my arms, not wanting her legs to touch the hot pipes. I’ve burned myself before, and it sucks. Once she’s steady on the ground, she pulls off her own helmet, shaking out her hair like some sexy shampoo commercial; except when she stops, it isn’t perfect bouncy strands. Nope. It’s a wild tangled mess. I smirk; her hair is exactly how I like it—natural and crazed.
“Shut it, Vincent.” She giggles while trying to tame it down with her fingers.
“Let’s go inside. I’ve got some meat marinating and ready to grill. You still like steak?”
She nods, her face tightening with anxiety. What Eve doesn’t realize is I’m just as nervous as she; I’m just better at hiding it.
It doesn’t take a genius to recognize that anytime Eve feels as though we’re moving away from business, she freezes. I’ve got to slow the moment down for her. Keep us at a steady pace—for now. Every ounce of me wants to just talk. Get it all out there. But she’s not ready to hear it.
“I’ve got a few files we should work through.” I say the last part slowly, knowing that work will keep her comfortable around me.
“Yeah. Okay.” She pushes back her thick hair, securing it with a clip. I give myself a mental pat on the back, glad to know that my plan for easing Eve is working.
I open the door, stepping directly into my living room. I turn, watching her eyes widen in surprise before turning back to me. Luckily, she isn’t horrified. Actually, her face looks somewhat settled in relief.
Seven years ago, I shattered this woman and ruined her life. Everything she threw at me that night after the gala was deserved. No. I deserved worse. And now I’m back, and somehow, she’s still here. I want to pull her in my arms and thank her. If she’d just give me a chance, I’d show her that I’ve given it all up. But I’ve got to make her believe that I’m true.
“Nice place,” she tells me, a soft blush on her cheeks as her eyes zero in on my couch. Nothing is fancy, but it’s all clean and comfortable.
I point to the left. “Kitchen.” I turn, pointing to the opposite side of the trailer. “Bedroom and bathroom.” I walk a few steps to the sink, seeing my two large marinated rib steaks have defrosted nicely. “How about I’ll
grill these out front and you make a salad?”
“Okay.” Again, the hesitant nod.
My smile grows as I watch her straighten her back and walk toward the fridge with her head raised. Opening up my refrigerator as though it’s her own, she pulls out some chopped red cabbage and washed spinach leaves, dropping them on the counter. She plunges her head back inside, probably noticing containers filled with grilled chicken and beef before coming back out again.
“Do you have mustard, olive oil, red wine vinegar?”
“Yeah.” I pull out what she needs, my heart pounding—she remembers this is my favorite dressing. I open my small liquor cabinet, taking a bottle of red wine, two glasses, and an opener. Grabbing a handful of files we can review together, I finally step outside to fire up the grill.
While the meat cooks, I watch the mountains in the distance, taking a moment to thank God for my life. I never considered myself a God-fearing man, but between these vast mountains and the clear sky, it feels like denying the existence of a higher power is impossible. Compared to New York, where everything is man-made from the people to the buildings, it was easy to believe that I was in control of my own life and destiny. God’s work is obscure in the big city. Out here though, is nothing but the truth. I look around and witness creation on a daily basis. I imagine Eve living with me here. Loving me. I picture her in my bed every morning and night.
I turn the steaks over, finding a perfect sear. A few minutes later, I pull them off the grill and onto the plate. Eve is sitting at the small picnic table to my right, watching me with a glazed look in her eyes as if she sees something more than just...me. The sun has set behind her, and she looks like an angel.
I take a seat, immediately moving to open the bottle. The last thing I want is to show my desperation for her, which would probably send her running into the mountains. I clear my throat. “I wanna take you hiking tomorrow around the area. See the land. Some cold beers and I’ll pack lunch. Yeah?” I pour her a full glass, but only half for myself. I’m driving her back tonight and want to make sure my head is clear.
Redemption (Vincent and Eve #3) Page 9
