Page 89 of Vegas Daddies

Alice pouts in thought. “That’s odd.”

“Did you speak to him much when he took you?” I ask.

“No,” Alice replies.

“Didn’t get a look of his face?”

“No. How strange.”

“Not really,” Match says.

“What do you mean?” Alice searches his eyes.

“Look at you. You’re beautiful. It’s no wonder he threw fists at me. He was probably counting on you being single so he could swoop you away into a white chapel himself.”

Alice chuckles. “If that’s his intention, he’s probably just doing it for the green card.”

“Didn’t sound like he needed that.” Match takes the frozen peas from his eye.

“What? Why?” Alice asks.

“He was American.”

“An American Bratva?” Alice frowns. “Do those even exist?”

“Sure they do,” I say. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard about an American being swept under Bratva wings. Homeless guys tend to be better fighters, so Russians recruit them.”

Alice reclines further into the couch and follows the moving cars on the TV screen with vacant eyes. Oh, to know what’s spinning around that beautiful head of hers.

It’s terrible, the kidnapping, her lying father and everything in between, but god, her presence in my house pleases me in more ways than I can count. Her fresh, floral smell lingers everywhere. I smell it in the living room every time I step in, and in the shower cubicle too. She places her pink bottle of Bath and Body Works gel beside my Dior Sauvage in the caddy, and I find myself smiling every time I glimpse the two bottles paired together. It’s like aHisandHers. The same goes for her towel. She hangs it on the peg above mine, always lengthways, never width, and the it fills the bathroom with fragrance.

I haven’t even thought about how I’m gonna live without her presence in my house, simply because it’s never once crossed my mind until now as she curls her lip and looks down from the TV absentmindedly.

With a face likethat,she could have the world at her fingertips.

She could have anyone.

Could definitely get much better than three graying motorcyclists on the cusp of a midlife crisis.

“Maybe you should get some sleep, darling. It’s late.”

“I think I wanna see my dad again.”

“Oh?” Match raises an eyebrow.

God knows what will happen.

But whatever the consequences, Peter deserves it. I shoot Match a glare. Saw off my head in a gesture for him to keep quiet.

It’s her father at the end of the day. Our opinions are irrelevant.

“If that’s what you want, darling,” I say.

“It is,” she says.

“Okay.” Match flashes her a tight-lipped smile.

“I think I need a day away too”

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