Page 3 of Devour

Since she refused to allow me to explain I’m not whoever she thinks I am, I might as well try to find out who she is and what brings her to Vegas. I clear my throat. “Are you checking in at The Red Château?”

“If I can ever get there, yes,” she says more to herself in a snarky tone.

“Well.” I quickly maneuver the car around the one in front of me and then begin to swerve through the traffic. She mumbles a few things as she clutches the armrest and plants one hand firmly on the dashboard. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.”

“If I get therealive,” she repeats, and I stifle a laugh. The gall of this woman. This is fun. It’s been years since anyone has dared to use this kind of tone with me.

“Been there before?” I ask as I zip through traffic.

“No. Can we not do the small talk? It’s been a rough couple of hours, and your driving is making me nervous. I’d rather you focus your attention on the road and obey traffic laws.”

“Why did you sit in the front?” I deadpan. She doesn’t answer, only gives me the side-eye. But seriously…What sociopath jumps in the front seat and doesn’t do conversation.

At the red light, I quickly shoot a text to have someone at the door to help her grandma when we arrive. As soon as the light changes color, I have a little fun and speed off. The elderly lady in the back giggles and cheers. My front seat passenger has those red lips in a straight line and is white knuckling her seat belt. The car bounces and tires squeal as I pull up to the front entrance of The Red Château. I slide out of the car and hand the keys to the valet driver who appears shocked to see me in the little sedan. Admittedly, it’s not my typical ride. I like fast luxury sports cars. My longtime friend, Journi, on the other hand, despite being alegend in the guitar world, is extremely humble. Wild as hell, but down to earth.

“Put this in VIP parking,” I tell him.

Two of my employees are already assisting the grandmother and about to escort her through the doors. The other valet is opening the door for…

Huh, I didn’t get her name. She places one foot out and smiles up at him.I didn’t get a smile like that. Rolling my shoulders, I shake off my annoyance. I went out of my way for this stranger and she gives the first person who opens her door a genuine, and pretty, smile.

“Thank you,” she tells him as she rises up, but her other foot is still in the car.

“Step. Step!” Of course she’s not listening to me, and she’s about to trip. I rush toward her, just as she’s leaning forward. The valet attendant and I each take one of her arms and help her regain her balance.

She’s a fucking disaster.

“God, that was embarrassing.” She laughs it off.

“Could’ve been worse,” I offer.

Our eyes connect and something within me stirs. Looking visibly uncomfortable, she jerks her arms free. “Sure.”

I’m not sure what shifted her mood to cold. Her eyes become glassy. I watch in horror as she wipes them, effectively smearing mascara everywhere. “What is wrong with me today? I just humiliated myself again. I learned a lot of valuable lessons today.”

Same. Don’t give rides to strangers. That’s today’s lesson.

“Oh, my purse!” As she spins around, the heel on one of her red pumps manages to land in probably the only slick spot and twists. Her ankle turns at a painful and odd angle, sending her plummeting to the ground. The air from the car’s vents blows her red dress up her back, revealing two perfect globes.

For the second time today, she’s caught me off guard. Did not expect her to be the type to travel without panties. Furthermore, that dress should be burned for hiding such a delicious ass.

“Fucking hell,” I grumble.

She quickly tries to cover herself, but she’s not fast enough. The biggest looking douchebag I’ve ever seen appears out of nowhere, bursting with laughter. “Maeve! Holy shit! You sure didblossomafter high school.”

The damsel in distress is up in no time. At first, she flinches and shifts the weight off her right leg. Her entire body turns red as her eyes take in the newcomers. She seems to make herself smaller, as if every part of her body is trying to curl into itself. The defeated and humiliated expression on her face has me seething.

“Maeve?Maeve Goodman.” Another woman walks up and makes a show of wrapping herself possessively around the dick. She smirks at, who I now know is, Maeve. “Oh, I guess you would be here for the wedding. How again are you related to the Goodman brothers?”

Goodman brothers?My ears perk up at hearing the name Goodman. Vincent Goodman’s wedding is booked here tonight. I was hoping to get an opportunity to chat with one of the brothers and possibly discuss a new business venture.

Though the question was meant as rhetorical and insulting, Maeve answers her anyways. “Cousins.”

“Down the line I’m sure,” she sneers.

“Or twice removed?” the dope next to her offers.

The she-devil turns to him with a mocking look. “Don’t forget you dated her.”

---