The man rose up, and up, to his feet. The guy was huge, with broad shoulders and arms as big around as her waist. She took a few steps back toward Isla's apartment.
"Where you going, honey?" The man lumbered in her direction. "I can make it worth your time."
"I'm not a prostitute," she hissed, glancing over her shoulder at the empty sidewalk as she quickened her pace. Somehow, turning her back on that guy seemed like a bad idea.
He threw back his head and laughed, but when he met her gaze again, his expression was anything but friendly. "You think you're too good for me, princess? I've got everything you need right here." He grabbed his crotch and Bri spun and raced for Isla's apartment building as fast as she could.
She unlocked the door to the building, glancing back only once to see the man standing where she'd left him, his hand still on his crotch like he was waiting for her to change her mind. Her heart raced and her vision narrowed as she yanked the door open and pulled it shut behind her. She wasn't about to stand around waiting for the elevator. She raced up the stairs to Isla's apartment, unlocked the door, and sank to the floor inside, heart pounding, breath releasing in short pants.
She centered herself and pulled in deep breaths. She was okay. The man couldn't get her there. She was safe. She yanked out her phone and dialed Isla.
"Bri, honey, are you okay?" Isla asked when Bri could barely speak through her gasps for air.
"I'm fine." Her breath and heart calmed at the sound of Isla's voice. "I was going to go out, but some homeless guy next to the bus stop mistook me for a prostitute."
Isla laughed. "Larry. Yeah, he mistakes all the pretty girls for prostitutes, just in case he gets lucky someday and finds one who is both a prostitute and willing to accept the five bucks he can scrape together for a blow job."
"You know him?" Bri was glad to know she didn't actually look like a streetwalker.
"Sure. He's obnoxious, but harmless."
Maybe so, but there was no way Bri was going back out there to face him again. "Guess I'm going to change my plans and have a night in."
"Why? I mean, I wouldn't recommend taking the bus, since it only shows up every hour on weeknights and you definitely shouldn't walk, but you should ask Jude to send a car for you."
Bri was so shocked by the suggestion, it took her a few seconds to recover, but Isla knew her well enough to anticipate what she would have said.
"No matter how you feel about him, Bri, he won't want you going out alone. He has drivers on call twenty-four hours a day. It won't be a big deal."
Right. Not a big deal for his sister, but definitely a big deal for the woman he didn't trust enough to work on his casino floor.
"Maybe I'll call Raymond and see if he wants to go out."
"Great idea," Isla said. "I've only met him a few times, but he seems like a good guy. Jude can't stop saying nice things about him."
"How are you doing?"
"I'm wonderful. Now, quit worrying about me and get out of there. Go meet your billionaire and have an adventure."
She called Raymond, but he didn't answer. She sent him a quick text, but got no immediate response.
She paced the small apartment, considering her options. Unfortunately, she only had two, stay in for the night or ask Jude for help. Her skin crawled with the need to get out, to see the city, to live in a way she hadn't been able to for years.
She paced some more. Jude was her boss, but he'd been her friend once, more than a friend in a lot of ways. She hated him. Of course, she hated him. But they were going to have to work together, and it might be a good idea to get comfortable with him again so that she could work for him without wanting to pour coffee on his head.
Maybe she could finally hear his side of the story . . . The thought made her pause in her manic pacing and wrap her arms around herself. His side of the story. She'd wondered about it once, after Max had told her what Jude had done, after her anger had cooled enough that she regretted telling Jude never to call again when she'd picked up the phone and heard his voice. She'd wondered if maybe Max's version of the story wasn't the whole story, because she'd never thought Jude capable . . .
Now, though . . . Now she had a chance to find out what had really happened five years ago, to try and understand why Jude had cast her brother aside so quickly.
She paced some more. No. No, she couldn't ask him that. She had to work for him and if his version of the story was worse than Max's version she'd never be able to work for him. Not that she'd be able to trust anything he said, it had been years and he'd clearly changed, gotten harder, colder . . . Not to mention that she couldn't imagine any excuse that would truly excuse what he'd done to Max and to her family. No, she should let it lie, she should keep her distance.
She sat on the bed and kicked off her shoes. She'd just stay in. She'd be an adult and . . . Damn it, she was so sick of being an adult and she wanted . . . She just wanted . . . She didn't even know what she wanted, but she wasn't going to find it sitting alone in her room.
She'd wait at the glass door to the building until she saw the lights of the bus approaching and then she'd race for the stop. Isla had sounded certain that Larry was harmless.
First, though, she walked over to the window. Isla's room faced the front of the building and from the window, she could see farther down the street. If she really ran, she'd probably have a better shot of making it to the bus stop in time.
She pressed her right cheek to the cool glass, but the light inside the apartment interfered with her view of the street. She turned off the lights and went back to the window, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet and watching the cars pass in a mesmerizing frequency on the street below.
She must have fallen into a trance-like state, because a knock on her door startled her so much she shrieked and banged her forehead on the window. Had Larry found a way into the building? Was he not as harmless as Isla thought?
The pounding on her door sounded again and she dropped to the floor, as though it would make a difference to whoever was at the door that she couldn't be seen at the window.
She sucked in a breath and tried to pull it together. Larry couldn't get her unless she let him in.
"Brianne? It's Jude. Are you in there?"
She gasped in a breath that was a combination of relief and fear and choked herself. Coughing, she managed to get to her feet and to the door. She gave one last hard cough, patted her chest to assure herself she hadn't hacked up a lung, and opened the door.
Jude stared at her, his face lined with concern. "Are you alright?"
She waved a hand in the air and cleared her throat. "Swallowed wrong," she rasped out.
He continued to stare, his concern not lessening. "Were you about to go to bed? Isla called and said you were looking for transportation for the evening."
Oh, Isla. "Um, yes. I was going to go out, but I'm fine now. I'm just going to catch the bus and--"
"No," he said, his expression calm and even, except for a tiny indent over his left brow she only ever saw when he was frustrated or angry or thinking too hard. "If you want to go out, I'll go with you."
"Um, what? No, Jude. That . . . That is a terrible idea. You hate me and I--"
"I don't hate you," he said, his voice low, nothing but sincerity in his expression, that tiny indentation getting deeper. "I could never hate you. I won't hover or cramp your style, but Vegas can be a wild, dangerous city and I'd feel better if you weren't out alone."
"I appreciate your offer, but I'm sure you've got better ways to spend your evening. If you're really worried, you can just give me a ride to a suitable club. I'll get a taxi back home."
He straightened and that little indent vanished. He was no longer thinking hard. His decision had been made and she knew from experience there would be no changing his mind. "Maybe once you're more familiar with the city, but you've only been here a few days. Tonight, I'll take you out. I'll show my best friend's little sister my city."
So that's how
he wanted to play it? Like no time had passed? Like he hadn't betrayed her brother? "Ex."
His brow curled in what appeared to be sincere confusion. "What?"
"Ex-best friend, Jude. We can't just pretend like you never--"
"I'm sorry," he said, his words low but insistent and heartfelt enough to stop her cold. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, Brianne."
She pressed a hand to her chest because it felt tight and funny. "Jude, I . . ." But she had no idea what to say, wasn't quite sure how to catch her breath.
"I know we need to hash this all out, but for tonight, can we just be two old friends who want to spend a night out on the town?"
Any other time, she might have teased him about talking like an old man, but she wasn't in a teasing mood. She'd held onto her anger and her hate for him for so long, she wasn't sure how to let it go, even just for one night. "I don't think I can do that."
He nodded. "How about we say I'm an awkward friend who can't stand the thought of you going out alone and will watch over you like a hawk, but won't overstep the assigned boundaries?"
She considered her options and it took her only a few moments to decide she preferred his offer to the thought of facing Larry again. "Okay. Fine. Yeah, that might work."
He turned without another word and stalked toward the elevator. She sighed, grabbed her things, locked up, and followed him.
#
Jude watched Brianne slide into the car before taking a seat next to her. Philip closed the door behind him, but Jude's attention rested on Brianne, on the way her skirt had inched farther up her thigh and the earnest look on her face. "I don't want this to be awkward, Jude. I just . . ." She stared out the window as Philip pulled away from the curb and into traffic. When she turned to face him again, her expression had gone careful and closed. "It's been a long time since I've had a night out. Can we keep it light? No expectations, no grudges, just two strangers looking for a good time?"
"Friend is too farfetched?" he asked, bracing himself for the hit.
She gave him a sad smile. "The kind of friend who chooses money and power over friendship? I'm all full up on those kind of friends, Jude."
Her words hit him right between the eyes and set up a pulsating ache behind them. She'd finally answered the question he'd been wondering about since she'd arrived. She hated him because she viewed his firing of Max as a betrayal, as Jude choosing money over his best friend. He'd wondered that himself, in his lonelier moments.
If Max had asked for money, he'd have given him what he could, or at least he thought he would have. He'd fired his best friend, because Max had lied to him and betrayed him, and he'd shown no remorse. Max's actions had revealed a fundamental difference between the two men. To Max what he'd stolen had been money, something he wanted in infinite supply, but to Jude that money had been the seed they'd needed to build their dream. Max hadn't just stolen money, he'd nearly destroyed everything they'd both worked for.
Still, if Jude had asked more questions . . . If he'd given Max another chance . . . He rolled his shoulders and watched the casinos roll by. He couldn't change the past, but maybe . . . He looked over at Brianne, who had moved her attention to the phone on her lap, her shoulders hunched, her body tense. She didn't want to be his friend, not yet, but he was going to do everything he could to change her mind. "You remember what I said to you the last time I saw you?"
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening in the lights from the strip. "You said you'd always loved me, that you never saw me as a kid sister like Max said you did." She smiled and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "You reminded me that you and I are actually closer in age than you and Max. You said you knew I'd never seen you as more than an annoying brother type, but that you were going to change my mind. You said you were going to make something of yourself so that you could give me everything I deserved, and then you'd come back for me and you'd make me fall in love with you."
His chest tightened and he couldn't draw air into his lungs. She remembered almost word for word what he'd said to her on that New Year's Eve four years ago. Was that why she'd thought it okay to ask her brother to steal from him? Did she think she was only taking what he'd promised her? When Max's theft had been revealed, and Max had spun his story about stealing that money for Brianne, he hadn't believed it. He'd pressed Max on it, had threatened to call Brianne and ask her. Max hadn't backed down and Jude had known, with a sickening realization, that Brianne had never cared for him at all. Not if she could urge her brother to steal from him. Max and Brianne had always been close, and Max wouldn't have thrown her under the proverbial bus if it wasn't true. He'd fired Max and then he'd spent just about every waking moment for the next two years trying to save the business and build back enough capital to start the casino. He'd called Brianne once, in a weak moment, to give her a chance to explain herself, but she'd refused to speak to him.
Still, a part of him had hoped, until Isla had visited Brianne at college and come back crowing about the fancy house Brianne was renting and how much nicer it was than her own dorm. It had been enough for Jude. He'd been wrong about the woman he thought he'd known. He made Isla promise never to mention Brianne or Max again, and she'd agreed, though she'd never known and never would know the feelings he'd once had for Brianne.
He'd learned long ago that he couldn't undo the past. No matter how much money and power he gained, he couldn't fix what had already been done. And whatever Brianne thought of him, his choice hadn't been about money, it had been about loyalty and trust and being able to count on the people he cared about.
Still, he couldn't drum up the strength or the desire to ask Philip to take Brianne wherever she wanted to go and get out of that car. "I meant every word," he said. "I wish things had gone differently for us." He looked into her eyes, searching for answers, searching for hope. "I've often wondered if you shared my wish."
Brianne's eyes went wide and hurt flashed across them, before she jutted out her chin. "I thought you were so sweet and I . . ." She glanced out the window again, maybe looking for escape before facing him. "I waited for you, Jude. I didn't date anyone for more than a year after you said those words to me."
Hope flared and Jude leaned into it. She'd waited for him, she must have felt something for him. And, if she'd felt something for him before, she could feel it again. "I didn't expect you to wait for me."
"Well, I did. What you said meant a lot to me."
He wanted to ask her if his words still meant something to her or if their shared history had tainted them, but he wasn't sure he could handle her answer. If she gave him any more hope, he might not be able to take this slow and he understood that she needed slow, that slow was the only way to win her back to him. "I've never stopped thinking about you, Brianne. I've never stopped regretting the distance that's grown between us."
She sighed. "I don't need romantic promises or sweet words, Jude. The Brianne you loved doesn't exist anymore and the Brianne I am now, she just wants to not be sad or angry or lost for one night. She just wants to have some light-hearted, no-strings-attached fun." She turned to him, her eyes sparkling. She might say she'd changed, but in her eyes Jude saw the Brianne he'd known, in the twist of her lips, in the dare he heard in her words. She'd always been the risk-taker of the two of them, daring him to push past imagined limits and dream big.
Jude never ignored reason and logic, at least not since he'd become a casino owner. Reason and logic were the only things in the world he truly trusted, but in that moment, he didn't care about the risks or the small likelihood of him coming out of this with anything other than a broken heart. He wanted this night with her, he wanted to join her in her game of make-believe.
"Fine," he said. "One night to pretend."
Her grin and the way it made him willing to do anything on earth to see it again, should have been all the warning he needed to hold on tight to his heart, but he was already too far gone to heed the danger.
#
"Which casino would you like
to visit first?" Jude asked as Philip drove down the strip for the fourth time.
Bri sort of wanted to stay in that car with Jude, his warm body next to hers, as he pointed out casinos and told her stories about the strip, the drama and the hilarity. His eyes lit as he talked about the city he clearly loved, and she found herself watching his face more than the sights out the window.
Though she and Jude had been in different grades in school, Jude was only three months older than her. Her birthday just happened to fall late in the year, and she'd missed the cut-off for kindergarten. Even when he'd annoyed her most, with his bossiness and know-it-all attitude, she'd carried a small crush for him. Nothing that prevented her from dating other boys or telling him to stay out of her business when he needed to be put in his place, just a feeling that there could be more between them.
She'd understood Jude in a way Max never had. Jude needed his formal way of talking and his careful boundaries and rules, because his home life had been boundary-less. His parents worked long hours leaving Isla and Jude free to make their own rules. Bri had sometimes wondered what her care-free brother and the serious Jude could possibly have in common, other than their love of outlaws, but their differences never seemed to bother them. They'd been closer than brothers until they weren't.
"Bellagio," she said, realizing she'd been silent too long and naming the first casino she saw.
Jude passed the message to Philip and sat back, his gaze on making her skin tingle. She couldn't resist turning to look at him, his face lit by the multi-colored lights of the strip, his eyes almost as bright. Her stomach swooped and she bit her lip to stop herself from saying something idiotic, like how much she'd missed him. She wanted to touch him, to brush her fingers over the hard lines of his jaw, to feel the barely visible stubble, the warmth of his skin. It was as though something pulled at her from her center, urging her toward him, and she had to fight that pull, even if she wasn't sure why anymore.
How to Lasso a Billionaire Page 5
