by Jagger Cole
I groan to myself. That’s an image that’s going to keep me hard and feeling guilty for about a week.
“Lucia…”
“We’re going out, Dom. Why the hell do you think we just flew to Vegas? To sit in our hotel rooms?”
“A guy can hope.”
She smiles. “Put on something presentable. We’re leaving in five.” She steps away and closes the door. Shit.
I think about calling Vincent. But I stop myself. No, this job was given to me because I can be trusted. Because I get shit done. I don’t call home crying about some bratty twenty-one-year-old giving me attitude. She wants to go out? Fine. Whatever. We’re staying at the hotel under fake names anyways. And the local criminal elements are at least friendly-ish with the Scaliamis. Fuck it.
I throw on a suit, no tie, that I find in the suitcase. At least Vincent has decent fashion tastes, seeing as he packed for me. Three minutes later, there’s a knock on the door again.
“Ready?” She blinks. “Wow.”
“What?”
Lucia grins slyly. “Nothing, you just clean up better than I thought you would.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Here.” Lucia passes me a tiny little bottle of vodka.
“The hell is this?”
“From the mini bar.” She beams and raises a little bottle of her own. “Cheers!”
“Wait…”
“To Vegas, baby!” She knocks back the drink and makes a face. “Whew!” Her eyes drop to my hand. “Dom, you’re supposed to drink.”
“Yeah, I got that. But I’m working, Lucia. I’m here to protect you, not party with you.”
“Well, suit yourself.” She snatches the nip from my hand. She brings it up to drink and I frown.
“Whoa, whoa. Slow down.”
“In Vegas?” She gives me a coy smile and drinks the vodka down. “Well? Shall we?”
I groan. “Fine, lead the way.”
The Strip is like a living organism. There are people everywhere. Lights flash, and music throbs from a hundred nightclubs.
“Vegas!” Lucia yells at the night sky. Yeah, so much for a low fucking profile. We walk by a club when she suddenly grabs my arm. “Ooo! I heard this band is supposed to be amazing!”
I glance into the club. It’s fucking packed. “Let’s pick a different spot.”
“Let’s not.”
She lets go of my arm and waltzes towards the door. “Come on, Dom,” she says when I follow. “Let’s get drunk.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, let’s not.”
“Well, I am.”
“One drink. Then we’re leaving.”
The doorman pauses while checking our IDs. He shakes his head at me and jabs a thumb at a sign by the door that says, “two drink minimum.”
“What the hell is that?”
He shrugs. “Two drink minimum for the show.”
“Fuck that.”
He shrugs again. “Then stay outside, man.”
Lucia turns and grins at me. “Well? Coming, Dom? Just so you know, I’ll only be drinking at places like this all night.”
My jaw grinds. “Fine. I’ll drink soda.”
“There’s no soda,” the doorman grunts.
“You got fucking water?”
He smiles. “Sure. But it’s free. Doesn’t count for your two drinks.”
I roll my eyes. “Let me guess, just booze.”
“Just booze.”
“What if I’m sober?”
“Then I’d stay out here.”
Lucia suddenly darts inside. I groan. God fucking damnit. The bartender smirks as I push past him and into the club. I follow Lucia’s blonde hair through the crowd. There’s miraculously two empty stools by a side bar. She sits in one, and I slip into the one next to her as she gets the bartender’s attention.
“Four tequila shots, please?”
I turn and stare at her. “Seriously?”
“What?” She smirks. “Two for me, two for you. I thought you’d want to get through your drink minimum quickly.”
“By taking shots?”
“I did say quickly.”
The bartender slides four shot glasses of tequila and a plate of salt and lime wedges in front of us. Lucia grabs one and raises it. “To Vegas, Dom.”
I’m not doing fucking shots with this girl. The place has a two drink minimum. They mean buying at least two drinks. No one says I have to physically consume them. When I don’t raise my glass, Lucia groans.
“Oh my God, you are the lamest.” She takes her shot and reaches for the next. I frown.
“Slow it down,” I growl.
“No thanks, dad.”
She takes the second one and grimaces. “Oof, fuck.”
I groan to myself. There’s something about that dirty word from her sweet mouth that makes me want her even more.
“Are you drinking those or not?”
“Not.”
“Well, then don’t mind me.” Lucia reaches for one of my shots. I scowl and grab her hand away. “No.”
“Well, if you’re not going to…”
“Then neither are you.”
“Watch me.” She darts her free hand out and snatches one. Before she can drink it though, I grab it back. I bring it to my own lips and toss it back. Lucia grins. “See? Was that so bad?”
I sigh contentedly. No, it wasn’t. It was fucking needed is what it was. She reaches for my other shot, but I snatch that one back and drink it down too. She beams.
“Atta boy, Dom.” She turns back to our bartender. “Four more, please?”
“Whoa, whoa,” I shake my head. “Not a fucking chance.”
But the four shots hit the bar in front of us in seconds. Lucia turns and smirks at me. “So, are we going to play this game all night?”
“What game,” I grunt.
“The one where you make a big show of not drinking, I try and steal your drinks, and then you drink them to stop me from getting wasted?”
Yes. If that what the job mandates.
“Dom, how about instead, we just have some drinks together like normal people?”
“You know why not.”
“Then I’m just going to have to drink all of these,” she sighs dramatically. “Gee, I’d hate to be the one to tell my grandfather that you let me get alcohol poisoning in Las Vegas.” She makes a face. “Yikes.”
I glare at her. She smirks right back at me. Don’t do this, I want to tell myself. Don’t play her little fucking games. But I can’t say no. Whatever the hell magic she’s using on me, I can’t. I try and tell myself that it’s to make sure she doesn’t get blackout drunk. But it’s more than that.
I want to drink with her. I want to be sitting here with this gorgeous girl, with the whole fucking club seeing us and thinking she’s mine. I reach for a tequila. She does too.
“Cheers?” She grins.
“To Vegas,” I grunt.
“To Vegas.”
Our glasses clink. The shot goes down easy. Too easy. See reaches for her second one, and I frown.
“You need to slow down.”
“I’m fiiiine, Dom.”
Like hell she is. The girl is like hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. She already had two drinks before we left the hotel about half an hour ago. And now she’s had three shots of tequila. This is going to go downhill fast if she keeps it up. And like hell am I letting Don Salvestro’s fucking granddaughter end up in the ER getting her stomach pumped.
She reaches for her next shot again. Before she can, I grab it. I bring it to my lips and knock it back. Then I snag my own shot and drink that too. Lucia looks at me with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
“My my my,” she purrs.
“You’re not the only one who can play games.”
“And you’re more fun than you look.” She turns to the bartender and raises four fingers. “Four more please?”
I stare at her. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Having fun. This is my vacation, Dom.”
“Well, guess you better stop that from happening…” Four more shots hit the bar in front of us. Lucia grabs one. I grab another. “Cheers,” she winks.
“Bottoms up,” I groan. I knock mine back. Then I grab the last two and do those too. Shit, this is not a good pace. I open my eyes to see Lucia grinning at me like a cat again.
“You know what, grumpy?” She leans close. I hold back the growl. “If we’re not careful, you might just have some fun tonight.”
More drinks hit the bar in front of us. I keep stealing as many of them away from her as I can, but I can’t get them all. Pretty soon, it’s all a fuckin’ blur. I think we leave the bar, but I have no damn idea. All I see is long blonde hair and big blue eyes.
4
Lucia
When I wake, everything hurts.
The light is blinding. It feels like there’s a freaking ice pick being driven through my head. I wince. My stomach lurches. I realize I’m clinging to the bedsheets, like I might fly away if I don’t. I try and open my eyes, but the whole room spins. Nausea washes over me.
I take a breath. I turn over, away from the window. Slowly, I try and open my eyes again. My eyelids flutter. I groan when my head spins again. But finally, I open my eyes.
My heart stops, and I almost scream. Actually, I do, but my mouth is so parched that it just sounds like a rasping sound.
There, lying in bed right next to me with his eyes closed, is Dominic.
He’s fast asleep. He’s also got lipstick that looks an awful lot like my shade all over his neck. Oh, and he’s naked. I blink. My stomach lurches. Hang on, what? My eyes slide down to his bare chest. Then his bare abs. I look lower, but the tangled sheet is covering him down to the knees.
My heart races. I want to scream again, but I can barely breath. Slowly, I look down at myself. Then, I do scream again. Or at least I scream that dry rasping sound again. Dominic’s not the only one naked.
I am too. I gasp and yank the sheet up around myself. Dominic grunts in his sleep he turns over away from me and keeps on sleeping. I bolt from the bed, clutching the sheet around my body. My heart is racing. The whole freaking room spins, and I feel like I could throw up.
I stagger across the surging floor—past a suit that I remember Dominic wearing last night. Past my dress. My eyes spot something else, and I cringe. It’s my fucking bra, on the floor.
I grab ahold of a chair by the desk. I look up into the round decorative mirror. I look like hell. My hair is bedraggled. My eyeshadow is a mess. My skin is pale. I stare at myself: what the hell happened last night?
My mind flashes back to drinks. Lots of drinks. I groan and clutch the chair. Another wave of nausea hits me. I remember laughing my head off with him. I have a vague memory of watching the fountains at the Bellagio. And maybe kissing…
I shake my head. Good God, what the fuck did I…
I pale suddenly and freeze. Wait, I didn’t… I mean, I couldn’t have gotten so drunk that I did that… did I? I open the sheet. I glance down at myself and let out a breath. Oh, thank God. I’m wearing panties still. I mean, I know I still could have, but somehow, it’s comforting.
I mean I’d remember if I had sex, right? There’s no way I could get so drunk that I’d forget losing my virginity and then somehow putting just my panties back on. Plus, I mean, your first time is supposed to hurt, isn’t it? At least a little. At least enough that I’d be feeling it now, right?
I shake my head. No, there’s no way that happened. Thank God. Losing my virginity that way would be… unfortunate. Just the same, I’ve just woken up basically naked in bed with my freaking bodyguard. A little voice in my head wants to make a quip about him going above and beyond to “guard my body.” But it’s not funny.
I slowly turn around and gasp. Since I grabbed the sheet off the bed, I realize now Dom is totally uncovered. And I might be wearing panties at least. But he’s not wearing a freaking stitch of clothing. His back is to me, and I blush when my eyes slide down to his sculpted, perfect ass. I mean good lord that’s a nice butt.
I scowl and clutch the sheet tighter around myself. I haven’t been to church in years, but I cross myself anyways. What the fuck happened last night? And what the hell was I thinking?
I stagger across the room to the big balcony. I slide open the door and step out into the morning sunlight. It’s blinding. It also feels like a knife in my head. But it’s better than being in that bedroom with that man.
I wince and crank open the solar umbrella on the balcony table. I sink into a patio chair with a groan. I need to get the hell out of here. I should call a jet and just go back to Italy, right now. Forget the trip. Forget everything. I just need to leave this insane mess behind me and hope to God I can forget it ever happened.
“Morning.”
I scream. This time, my voice is more warmed up and a sound actually comes out. I whip my head around. The voice belongs to Dominic. I glare at him. He’s got a blanket wrapped around his waist. But beyond that, it’s not even fair. His voice is rough sounding. But where I look like total hungover shit, he somehow looks even hotter. His bed head is sexy as hell. The grit to his voice is even sexier. His muscled, tanned body, with the tattoos? I mean what the fuck? He looks like how a Dolce & Gabbana model would be photoshopped to look “hungover.”
But he does look as horrified as I am. He swallows and steps out onto the balcony. He winces at the light.
“Um… what…”
“I have no fucking idea,” he growls. He glances at me. “But we have a…” he frowns. “A problem.
“Oh, you think,” I spit back. “I woke up with you in my bed, Dominic!”
He frowns. “Yeah, it might be worse than that.”
“We didn’t—I mean, I don’t think we…”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think we did either.”
“Would you be able to tell?”
Shit. I blush when I say it. He frowns. “Uh, yeah? I mean I’m pretty sure I’d know.” He arches his brow and looks down. He opens the blanket a little. My blush grows deeper, and I suck in a breath.
“Pretty sure that’s a no on us fucking.”
“Thank God,” I whisper, closing my eyes.
“We’ve got a bigger problem than that, Lucia.”
I look at him again. “This situation couldn’t possibly get any worse—”
“Lucia…”
“Please don’t talk to me!” I snap. “Just… go to your own room and—”
“Lucia.”
I sigh in exasperation. “What?!”
Dom glares at me. Then his eyes drop to my hand clutching the sheet around myself. I frown and follow his gaze. Then my heart crawls into my freaking throat.
It’s huge. It’s glinting and dazzling blindingly in the sunlight. And it’s on my fucking ring finger.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
“What…” I can’t breathe. My eyes are blinking rapid fire. My heart is racing. “What the fuck…” My face feels white when I look up at him. “What the fuck did we do last night?” I whisper.
Dominic looks equally pale. He holds up his hand. On his finger is a silver band.
“You’re joking,” I choke out. “Fuck you, this isn’t funny.”
“I’m not fucking laughing,” he growls through clenched teeth.
“We...” I stare at him. “We got married?”
“It would seem so.”
I drop my head back and scream into the morning sky. “Fuck!”
5
Dominic
How the fuck did this happen?
I stagger through the connecting door to my own hotel room and shut it behind me. My heart is beating way too fast, and my stomach feels like it wants to empty everything I ate and drank yesterday. I mean seriously how the fucking hell does this even happen? This is like out of a bad fucking RomCom movie.
This doesn’t happen in real life. People don’t actually get acc
identally drunk married in Vegas. They just don’t. That’s not a fucking thing. There’s gotta be laws that stop dumb shit like that from happening. Except clearly, there isn’t, because clearly, we are.
I can’t actually remember if Lucia has just kicked me out of her room or if I just left. Either way, I had to get the fuck out of there. I stagger to the shower and kick it on as hot as it’ll go. The water scalds. I hiss in pain. But it also brings me halfway back to life. I dry off quickly and dress even quicker.
I’ve been on some benders in my day. But holy shit, what did I drink last night? I somehow stagger downstairs in a daze. I stumble into the hotel restaurant and ask for the darkest table as far from sunlight as I can get. That’s literally what I say to the hostess: “get me as far from sunlight as possible.”
“Oh my, do we have a vampire having breakfast with us this morning?” She jokes, way too loudly. I just groan. “Well, my name is Pam, and I’ll be taking care of you today, Mr. Dracula! We’ll be sure to cook those steak and eggs rare!” She cackles.
“That’s very funny,” I grunt and slump into the booth.
“Hold the garlic and mirrors!” She giggles.
“Coffee,” I croak. “Strong fucking coffee.”
“Side of virgin?” She grins. I grit my teeth. I don’t need comedy. I need fucking coffee before my fucking head explodes.
“Coffee,” I hiss. “Just. Fucking. Coffee—”
“Mimosa, please?”
I blink in shock when Lucia slips into the seat across from me in the booth. She’s wearing her dark sunglasses, and she looks showered. She actually looks amazing in this dazzling white sundress. It somehow holds the line between pretty and sultry. In spite of the hangover that’s trying to rip my head in two, my desire actually throbs a little deep inside.
“Mimosa coming right up!” Pam the comedian beams.
I stare at Lucia. “Are you shitting me?”
“What?”
“Really. You’re having a fucking mimosa?”
She frowns. “Oh, God, sorry. How rude of me.” She turns to Pam and smiles through her shades. “Two mimosas, please.”
