Page 49 of Bloody Vows
The casino floor is packed,full of tourists eager to lose money and get drunk. I make my way to one of the private rooms, in a high-roller section where the bets are high and money is no object for anyone playing there.
I settle at a blackjack table, tapping my fingers against the felt as I watch the cards being dealt. The dealer is a blonde in her twenties, gorgeous and curvy, and as soon as she sees me, her eyes linger on me for a moment too long.
"You're new here," she says with a smile, her voice low and sultry. "I would have remembered you."
“Just here for a couple of nights.” I slide the cards toward me, tossing down my chips for the buy-in. Ten grand, to start.
She pushes her lower lip out slightly, her eyes teasing. Her mouth is deliciously full. “I could show you around, if you like,” she purrs, her voice low enough that only I can hear. Her gaze sweeps over me, and there’s hunger in it.
I should take the bait. Should let her show me exactly what Vegas has to offer. I can tell she’d give me a night to remember—her eyes promise that there’s probably nothing she wouldn’t do. But all I can think about is Simone, the way she looks at me with those dark eyes, the way she fights me even when her body is screaming for my touch.
“What can I get you to drink?” A cocktail waitress appears in a tight black dress, her cleavage practically spilling out of it, her eyes sweeping over me with that same look. She's beautiful, and clearly interested. Everything I should want.
“Whiskey,” I tell her, dropping a chip onto her tray for a tip. From my blunt tone, I know she can tell that a drink is all I’m interested in. Even though, if I wanted to, I’d bet all my chips I could convince her to take a ten-minute break and have her on her knees in a corner faster than I could win a hand at this game.
I watch her go, watch her hips sway in that tight dress, try to picture her riding me with it rucked up around her waist. It does nothing for me—except to make me think of Simone bent over that chair, her ass red from my belt, her pussy swollen and glossy with need.
My cock twitches instantly thickening as I turn my attention back to the cards.
I lose the next three hands in a row, my concentration shot. The dealer raises an eyebrow, pausing to see if I’m going to buy in again, but I throw down more chips, intent on staying at the table. I'm not here to win money. I'm here to prove a point, to myself if no one else.
But the point isn't being proven. If anything, I'm proving the opposite. That I'm completely and utterly obsessed with my wife, that no other woman exists for me anymore.
"Tough night?" The voice is smooth, feminine, with a slight accent I can't place. I look up to see a stunning brunette in a red dress that probably costs more than most people make in a month. She's the kind of woman I would have taken to bed without a second thought, before.
Before Simone completely obliterated anyone else for me.
"Something like that." I reach for my drink, standing up as I lose the hand. I might as well take a walk, I’ve just blown through sixty grand in a few minutes.
“Want some company?” She smiles at me, her gaze drifting down to my mouth. “I’m feeling like I need a little pick-me-up myself. Some time with a handsome man would do the trick.” She winks playfully, and it’s almost enough to pique my interest. She has a personality, at least, and I think she’d be fun in bed.
I should say yes. Should buy her a drink, take her upstairs to my suite. It's what the old me would have done. What the kind of man I’m supposed to be would do.
I can’t imagine it. Can’t feel so much as a shred of desire for this gorgeous woman who to me, now, seems like a faded comparison to Simone. I want mywifein my bed, begging for me, moaning for me. Not a woman I don’t know.
What the fuck has happened to me? It’s like in a week, I’ve become a different person. It’s alarming.
I clear my throat. "Actually, I was just leaving."
Her mouth twists in disappointment. "Well, if you change your mind, I'll be at the bar. For a little while, at least."
I nod before walking back to the elevator to head up to my suite, feeling a little drunk and a lot tired. I feel like I’m failing at something, though I can’t imagine what. It’s not as if I haven’t done well with the responsibilities I’ve been given so far, despite Simone’s distractions.
Back in my suite, I strip off my suit and toss it over a chair, collapsing into the plush, luxurious king-sized bed. My phone buzzes, and when I see that it’s my father, I pick it up, irritated.
“What?” I answer more sharply than I should, and his silence tells me everything that I need to know about how he feels about my disrespect. “What is it?” I say, moderating my tone. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Just checking in. Vitto called me and let me know that all is well at the estate.”
My jaw tightens. “Why is he reporting to you?”
“Because until I head back home, son, I’m responsible for ensuring that this transfer of power goes according to plan. And your wife’s behavior concerns me. I want to know that there aren’t any problems while you’re gone.”
“I’d tell you if there were.”
“Would you?” My father pauses. “Your attitude about your wife concerns me, Tristan. As does the fact that my security saw you go upstairs alone. Not enough beautiful women in Vegas to tempt you?”
“I’m tired.”And sick to death of being managed. But I can’t say that. My father manages everything in his life, including his sons, with a firm hand and a close eye. My brother has managed to prove that he doesn’t need such careful observation, but I’m sure there are men reporting back about him, too.
