Page 168 of Sin City Lights

Adam tipped the man, then passed him the flight bag and Rollaboard. With long, swift strides, he made his way toward the lounge, mind reeling.

Why hadn’t she just gone upstairs? She wasn’t ready, he guessed, but at least she wanted to talk. He’d take it. He’d gone over what he would say a hundred times and was sure he could be convincing.

Failure was not an option.

“Good evening, Mr. Larssen.”

“Myers.” Adam looked past the server’s shoulder, searching.“Miss Layton is here?”

The young man’s brows furrowed.“Miss Layton? I haven’t seen her, sir. But I just started my shift, so maybe…” He shrugged.

“Thanks, man. I’ll find her.”

“Is there anything I can get for you?”

“A smoked old fashioned sounds great.” He hadn’t had one in a while.

“You got it.” Myers stepped back with a curt nod.

Adam’s gaze drifted over the white leather sofas and chairs. Patrons packed the lobby lounge, their voices loud from alcohol and the excitement of a Friday night in Vegas. Not the best place for a talk, but perhaps he could persuade her to go up.

He made his way toward the back, chest getting tighter and tighter as he neared the bank of windows. His gaze cut from one table to another.

He glanced at his phone again. No new messages. He was about to give up and chalk it up to a wrong number when, at the very back, he spotted…

He halted in his tracks.

Well, I’ll be damned.

She sat there, elegantly sipping what looked like a cup of coffee, and instantly, he felt his breath catch, his hand tightening into a fist.

That delicate profile, that honey-blonde hair.

He hadn’t cared if he ever saw her again, yet here she was, wearing a short, low-cut black dress that perfectly showcased her willowy body.

She must have sensed his approach because she swiveled, immediately finding him, gray eyes fixing on his with an all-too-familiar disparaging look. But only for a moment because she quickly schooled her expression and smiled.

His jaw clenched. Somehow, he made his legs carry him to where she sat. “Hello, Ingrid.”

“Adam!Hvordan går det vennen?”

He almost laughed.“I’m doing very well…sweetheart,” he retorted, tossing the term of endearment right back at her.

She hadn’t changed. Not on the inside, anyway, always saccharine-sweetly addressing him that way, her dulcet tone and tender words belying her actions.

On the outside, she wasn’t that much different either. She was still as beautiful as she’d been on their wedding day, undeniably so. The careful makeup helped too.

But the smile she gave him didn’t reach her gray eyes.“You look…different.”

“Do I?”

Her gaze swept over him with an expression he had never seen. His mouth curled into a smirk as he recognized it: heat.

No, he was no longer wiry and underweight. After she left, he’d sworn he would never be vulnerable again, physically or otherwise.

She motioned with a manicured hand to the armchair across from her.“Sit.”

Adam ignored her curt command and remained standing.“What are you doing here?”

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