My Vegas Groom (The Greene Family Book 3)

by Piper Rayne

  “Do you like it?” Nikki asks while looking at me through the mirror.

  “I could show you how much I like it, but we’d be arrested for public indecency.”

  The saleswoman giggles, and Nikki shakes her head at my attempt at humor. This time I’m not rewarded with that smile of hers.

  Okay, she doesn’t care for crude jokes, got it.

  “I’ll take it then.” Nikki steps down and heads back to the dressing room.

  “Here’s my card. She needs shoes and a shawl to cover up when we’re around others.”

  “What?” Nikki says, stomping back over to me. She plucks the credit card out of the saleswoman’s hands and holds it back out to me. “I do not need a shawl, and I’ll be paying for it myself.”

  “I told you it was my treat.” I take the card from between her fingers and hand it back to the saleswoman.

  Nikki grabs it again. “I don’t want to owe you anything.”

  “Fine. I’ll buy her the shawl.”

  She stomps her foot. God, I love her feistiness. Makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her off to bed. If only we were there already. “No.”

  “Yes.” I look at the saleswoman. “If you could give us a moment.” She walks away, and I set my gaze on Nikki. “Please let me do this. I want to do this.”

  She cocks her hip and stares at me. “I’ll let you buy the dress, but no shawl. First of all, I’m not eighty.”

  “And second of all?”

  She steps closer to me, and the scent of her perfume wafts up to my nostrils, making my dick strain in my pants. “I’m not someone who cheats. Other guys can look, but I’m all yours.”

  She turns around and heads to the dressing room, leaving me speechless. I want to follow her, lock the door, and press her against the wall.

  Fuck, I’m in deeper than I thought.

  Chapter Nine

  “I don’t want tonight ruined with me signing autographs.”

  Nikki

  We’re back in Logan’s suite at the hotel so that no one will know we’re spending the night in two different bedrooms. I put on the earrings that I had to practically put his hands in handcuffs so he wouldn’t buy them and look at myself in the mirror. It feels as though it’s been ages since I dressed up this nice.

  When I walk out to the shared living space, Logan stands with a drink in his hand by the window. He turns toward me, and I smile at the man I hardly know but am married to.

  “So?” I twirl around.

  “Just like at the store, I’m speechless.” He sets down his drink and walks over to me. His black suit forms to his body as if it was made specifically for him, and I’m sure it probably was. “Allow me.” He must remember from the store that I can’t zip up the dress on my own.

  I turn around, and his fingers graze my spine until they reach the zipper. The dress pulls snugger as he zips it up to where it stops mid-back.

  “There you go.” The hoarseness in his voice says he felt what I did, and a shiver runs up my spine.

  “Thank you.” I turn around to face him, and his gaze soaks me in once more, stirring my desire. “We should go.”

  “Yeah. Definitely.” He grabs his wallet and phone from a tray by the couch and pockets them before meeting me by the door.

  We walk down the hall to the elevator, and it comes in no time at all, as though those who have suites are serviced before the other thousands of guests.

  After we step in, the space is quiet and awkward, so I decide to fill the silence. “Are you always in the same suite?”

  He glances over from staring at the numbers as we descend. “No, but since my fight is here, the suite comes with the contract.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.”

  “It is, because I usually train in Vegas when I’m this close to a fight.”

  The doors open, but we’re underground. Another black SUV is waiting for us.

  “You pulled out all the stops, huh?” I say.

  “I don’t want tonight ruined with me signing autographs and people asking me how I managed to beat Hector Garcia the other night. Everyone has their fans, and surprisingly, I’m not always theirs.” He opens the door, waving off the driver, and I laugh while sliding in.

  He follows. The back seat feels claustrophobic with us so close and dressed so nice, like this is a real date. To the outside world, it has to look like that, but now I’m struggling not to let it feel like it is.

  This dress was way too expensive, and I should’ve never agreed to let him buy it.

  “So how did you beat Hector Garcia?” I ask, not really knowing anything about what he does.

  He looks at me from the corner of his eye in a suspicious manner. “I thought you didn’t like fighting?”

  “I don’t.”

  He turns his big body my way. “Why?”

  “I don’t like blood.” That’s the best I can do to describe why I hate it so much. When Jed was younger and got into a fight, it made my stomach turn, but I can’t put a specific reason on why.

  “Fair enough.” He straightens in his seat. “But if you want to know, I do a lot of research before a fight. I examine my opponent’s strengths, his weaknesses, and watch films of his previous fights. My trainers help me a lot. In all honesty, when I’m in the ring, it’s the adrenaline that helps me the most.”

  “Do you ever think about getting hurt?”

  He chuckles. “At first, I did, but belief in myself pushes that fear away. Belief that I’m the better fighter and I’ll come out the victor. If you worry about whether it’s going to hurt, you pull your own punches, and that’s not a path to victory.”

  I can’t deny that this confident side of him who knows he’s the best at what he does is attractive as hell. “Glad it’s worked out well for you so far.”

  He nods but doesn’t look over. “The next fight is the true test. Brett Rinaldo. He’s younger than me and on the rise. People are saying he might be my demise.”

  Vulnerability laces his tone. I have no idea how he trusts me so much with only knowing me such a short time.

  “I’m sure you’ll win.”

  “I know I’ll win.” He winks, and that vulnerable side of him disappears, replaced with his arrogant one.

  I’m reminded that I don’t know this man. Not the true Logan Stone, at least. I’m doing him a favor, and in return, he’s thanking me by taking me out on the town. This is a business arrangement and nothing more—even if we are legally married.

  Thankfully, I don’t have to make any more small talk because the SUV pulls up along the curb in front of a restaurant. The valet opens our door and Logan steps out first, holding out his hand for me to take. I step out, and we make our way inside but have to hop on an elevator first.

  When we step out, the windows give a view of the Strip all lit up at night. The hostess escorts us to a secluded table by the window, and I’m so in awe of the view, I miss the fact that Logan is waiting for me to sit down so he can tuck in my chair.

  “Oh, sorry.” I sit and he pushes me into the table. “It’s beautiful.”

  Logan folds himself into a chair across from me. “The first time I came to Vegas, a promotor took me here, and I thought to myself, ‘I’m either going to leave here broke and embarrassed or my name will be lit up in lights.’ It just feels like there’s no in-between when it comes to this town, you know?”

  This man changes personalities like I change outfits.

  “And now you’re on billboards.” I point at a juice cleansing ad featuring his face across the street.

  “Could’ve gone either way.” He shrugs.

  Our server comes over and Logan asks if he can order us a bottle of wine. I say yes, of course, because wine is rarely a bad idea, and she disappears to go make it happen.

  “If you don’t like it, feel free to get whatever you want,” he says.

  I pick up the menu and scan the array of steaks and side dishes. There are no prices, so I lower the menu and look at him. “We d
idn’t have to go somewhere so…”

  “It’s the only place I could get reservations at,” he says with a gleam in his eye that says that’s not the case. “I’d be happy to order for you.”

  I tip the menu down again. “That’s okay.”

  He looks a bit sheepish. “Actually, if we split a steak and fish dish, it would be better for my diet. I love their steaks and usually reserve this place when I’m done with a fight, but this time I’m headed right back into training.”

  I lower my menu. Usually, I wouldn’t be cool with someone else ordering for me, but I intrigued. “Okay.”

  “Really?” His eyes widen.

  “Yeah. As long as it’s not juice.”

  He laughs and sets down his menu. “They’re actually good. I have some back at the suite. We’ll take it back to Sunrise Bay with us.”

  His sentence throws me for a moment. It’s almost as though we’re a real couple. As though we go everywhere together.

  I glance around the room. “Speaking of…”

  As I’m about to talk about the Linville house and the expectations of us pretending to be happily married, the server returns. She’s flirty with Logan, but I suspect that’s her normal personality. Plus, he’s not really mine, so I can’t be upset even if that’s a sharp stab of jealousy in my chest. He orders us the steak and tilapia with a side of vegetables and every potato they make.

  She leaves and I’m about to ask my question, but he beats me to it. “I wasn’t sure what potato you prefer.”

  “I’m assuming those aren’t on your diet?”

  He shrugs. “I’m going to cheat a bit today.” He lifts his glass. “To new beginnings.”

  I raise my glass and we clink them before each taking a sip.

  “So, the Linville house?” I ask.

  “Yeah, it really is amazing. The deck by the water—”

  “I’m curious, if we’re…” I look around, but we’re pretty secluded. Still, I lean in and lower my voice. “If we’re supposed to be a couple, won’t we have to live together?”

  “I assumed so. That’s why I gave the trainers and chef the guest quarters in the back. You can stay with me in the main house. But you’d have your own bedroom if you’d like.”

  He really has thought about everything. Although it’s slightly disappointing that I’m finally married and not reaping the rewards of regular sex with a man like him. “Perfect. I live with my sisters now, so we can move some of my stuff over when we get back.”

  He smiles and sips his wine again.

  “Is there anything else we need to discuss?” I ask, trying to tick off all the boxes.

  “How about we just enjoy the night? We can discuss any issues as they come up.”

  I don’t usually work that way. I prefer to do lists. Not that I’m super organized or anything, but I don’t like to leave balls in the air. Still, I can’t think of anything else to go over at the moment, so I let him turn the conversation to Alaska and how his trainers are excited to take him on some hikes and try some new things that will push his training to a new level.

  The food comes. Logan eats the majority of both meals, but there’s not a lot of room in my dress, so I’m okay with that.

  After dinner, he takes me to a Cirque du Soleil show where the final act is a man and a woman working with an aerial strap. The audience watches with bated breath as they rise and fall over the stage, suspended in the air as they twirl flawlessly.

  All I can think of is how much that woman trusts that man to make sure she doesn’t plummet to her death. I’m not sure I could ever accomplish that.

  The curtains draw closed, and the lights flicker on.

  Logan smiles at me in the mezzanine of our private viewing booth. “Did you enjoy it?”

  “I did.”

  He reaches forward and his thumb brushes across my cheek. I must look puzzled because he raises his thumb. His skin is wet.

  “Oh, sorry.” I swipe the tears away before he can try to do it again. “Is my makeup messed up?”

  He shakes his head. “You look beautiful.”

  Standing, he holds out his hand for me and I accept it. We walk out a back entrance and the SUV is already waiting there. The night feels almost magical, and I wish for a moment that our marriage was real. To relive this night over and over with him would be no hardship. But it’s not, and if we were really married, he’d never stare at me like he just did—as though I was the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. At least not for long. All men eventually tire of a woman’s beauty and go looking for the next one.

  My feet are killing me as we walk up to the penthouse. As soon as we’re inside, I slide off my heels and sit on the couch. Logan stands by the door for a second, his eyes on me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Just…” He shakes his head.

  “What?” I tuck my legs under my body on the couch.

  “Either it’s déjà vu or you did that after we got married.”

  Our gazes lock, and that pull I’ve felt all night between us grows stronger, as though someone is pulling the string between us from both ends. “Maybe you’re used to having a lot of girls up here and that’s where the mix-up is.”

  His smile falls. “I’m not the playboy you like to think I am.” He slides off his own shoes and joins me on the couch. “I know we ate, but you hardly ate a thing. Want some room service?”

  “Truffle fries?” I ask.

  “Sold.”

  He picks up the phone and orders. I’m certain we didn’t do this after we were married.

  Chapter Ten

  “Ah, I think I make good decisions when I drink tequila. Look at us now.”

  Logan

  “Here.” I bring out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt for Nikki. “They’ll be too big, but see what you can do.”

  “The embarrassing thing will be if they aren’t too big.” She picks them up and disappears into her bedroom.

  I check my emails on my phone for a minute and then Nikki walks out of her bedroom wearing my gray sweatpants that are rolled up at the bottom more than a few times. “They’ll work.”

  She sits on the couch and I realize—this is what I want. Someone to share my time with. I’m usually surrounded by people. Vince, the trainers, cooks, other fighters, you name it. But I wouldn’t mind someone being here because they want to be here, not because I’m paying them.

  Then again, if I think hard about it, Nikki’s only here because I swindled a deal with her.

  The knock at the door means the food is here. Perfect timing.

  I answer the door and two guys bring in two trays of food on carts. I ask if they’ll put them on the coffee table in the living area, and I sign the bill and they leave.

  Nikki leans forward and removes the lid off one of the plates. “Potato skins!”

  “I knew you didn’t eat enough at dinner.” I sit and take the lids off all the platters. There isn’t much nutrition in front of us, but I’ll suffer the consequences tomorrow.

  “That dress didn’t leave me any room.” She eats another bite while knocking a straw packaged in paper on the table to get it loose to put in her water.

  I sit back and watch her enjoying herself, but she notices.

  “Why aren’t you eating?” She chokes down the rest of her bite and covers her mouth with a napkin.

  “I am.” I slide to the edge of the couch. “How about we get to know one another?”

  She grabs a nacho and dips it in salsa. “What do you have in mind?”

  “If we’re gonna keep up the charade of our marriage, I need to know some important things.”

  That grabs her attention. “True.” Sitting back on the couch, she brings the plate of nacho chips to her lap. “You go first.”

  “Favorite color?” I grab a carrot off the veggie platter.

  “Seriously? I’m pigging out on nachos and potato skins and you’re going to graze vegetables like a rabbit?” She reaches for another potato skin. “Good
thing we’re already married.”

  I laugh. “I’m still full from dinner. If you want more, let me know. I’ll call room service again.”

  She sticks out her tongue at me then makes a show of biting into the potato skin.

  “So, favorite color?”

  “Black.”

  “Black?” I ask.

  “Just kidding. Red.”

  “The color of love? I thought you didn’t believe in love?” I take a sip from my water.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Am I wrong?” I’m probably venturing into territory I shouldn’t. Maybe I should’ve waited to ask her such a deep question, but in order for me to figure out how to win her over, I have to know what I’m up against. She’s already made it pretty clear she’s not a big believer in marriage.

  “You’re not wrong. I’m a product of divorce.” She moves the plate back onto the table and grabs a water. I hope I didn’t ruin her appetite.

  “That’s right. Kissing cousins.”

  She frowns, then shakes her head. “You have no idea how many times I’ve had to tell people that my mom and Hank are not cousins. Enough about me. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Black.”

  “Hardy har har. Really, what is it?”

  “Green.”

  “The color of money? I’m surprised red isn’t your favorite color.”

  I snap off a piece of celery. “Why’s that?”

  “It’s the color of blood.”

  “Is that payback for my kissing cousins remark?”

  She gives me a smirk. “No. I don’t play games.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “Next question?” She brings the platter of nachos back to her lap, which is a clear indication that talking about love or her parents’ divorce isn’t something she’s comfortable with.

  So I ask, “What’s your favorite food? Nachos or potato skins?”