Page 47 of Lord of Vice

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind but only after we have a frothy cocktail in our hands.”

“Drinking and driving is illegal in this state.”

He laughed again. “I assure you that the food we consume will absorb it. And do not tell me you’re not hungry. I can hear your stomach growling even with the howling wind.”

I punched him in the gut, half choking. “You are an intolerable man. Yes, I’m hungry. Happy now?”

“Please don’t tell me you only eat salads.”

Now I snorted, an accidental gesture that I hated. My ex had called it reprehensible, disgusting. “No, I’ll have you know I would eat big, fat, juicy burgers topped with two kinds of cheese and grilled mushrooms along with a helping of crispy French fries every day of the week if I could. Okay, maybe I’d add in a slice of pizza now and again, but I think you get the point.”

He was laughing even harder, which made the heat from total embarrassment rush to my face. I wanted to slide under the seat, refusing to come out until it was the next century.

“Well, then I think you’re going to like my choice of restaurants.” When he pulled the car into the parking lot of Margaritaville, I squealed.

Another ridiculous trait.

“You are kidding me?”

“What?” he asked as if there was anything innocent about him.

“You donotlike this place? This is so not you. Have you ever been here?”

He kept the grin on his face. “It would seem you truly have me mistaken for a Neanderthal. I’ll have you know this is my private hideaway when I prefer chowing down on a burger and guzzling down a cold brew or two.”

“Well, shut my mouth. But I reserve the Neanderthal topic for now.”

When I issued the statement, he looked over, his thick eyebrows bunching up over the edge of his dark sunglasses.

Another wave of heat on my face. Great. I was one hot mess today. All because I’d fucked him. Or he’d fucked me. Whatever the technical term was.

“You are refreshing,” he said as he whipped into a parking spot. “It’s adorable when you think you have any control.”

“It was something my mother used to say when my daddy did something silly. That was before she died.” Why was I telling him anything personal about me?

He didn’t address what I’d said, merely continuing to chuckle when he eased the gear into park, cutting the engine almost immediately.

As with pretty much every restaurant on the glitzy section of Las Vegas, the outside of the restaurant appeared as if they could be a high dollar steak location, other than the parrot nestled beside the massive three-dimensional name.

I’d been to the one in Key West once, falling in love with it as so many thousands of other people. But I’d never walked into this one. It would bring back too many memories that shouldn’t surface.

“Come on, big pup. We’re in for the start of our adventure.” He was the one to grab Remington’s leash, helping my puppy from the backseat.

I didn’t remember the restaurant locations allowing pets, but somehow, I had a feeling a man like Kraven went by his own set of rules and nobody fucked with him.

As soon as we walked inside, it was exactly the same as the moment we’d walked into his hotel. The two stunning stick figures who stood behind the hostess desk had an expression that I wasn’t quite certain how to categorize. But given they were so freaking gorgeous and perfect, I felt less than adequate, even though the price tag had still been on the dress.

Four hundred seventy-two dollars for little more than a floral print on steroids? That was more than I made in, oh, I don’t know. A week anyway.

I pulled off my sunglasses just as he was doing, trying my best to act like I belonged here.

And with him.

The instantaneous feeling that if duels were allowed, I’d be forced into one hit me hard. It was silly, really, but after the day plus I’d had, nothing seemed weird to me any longer.

My core was throbbing and as they continued leering at him, I felt an intense roar of jealousy. Where in God’s name had that come from? Suddenly, the butterflies in my stomach were replaced with an entire hive of bumblebees. Next, I’d have a big band playing in my stomach.

“Mr. Sokolov. Would you like your usual table?”

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