Page 70 of My Million Dollar Secret

“Sounds like a plan.”

He pushes the button that allows him to speak to the driver. “Luke, take us back to the Caesar’s Palace.”

“Yes sir.”

Aaron clicks off the intercom and the car pulls out of the MGM Grand's circular drive, ferrying us to our destination. I look over at Aaron and arch an eyebrow at him.

“Back to the Bellagio? Were you there earlier?”

“I'm staying there,” he mentions with a chuckle.

“Staying there? While the rest of us are at the MGM Grand?” I respond and laugh. “Is this like your deal with the airplanes – you don't want to mix with the commoners?”

He laughs softly. “Hardly. I just want everybody to be as loose as possible and have as much fun as they can,” he explains. “I think that's more achievable if they don't fear their boss is looking over their shoulders.”

“That almost sounds noble.”

There's a mischievous glint in his eye as we pull into the Caesar’s Palace. “It's noble as hell. I mean, look at the sacrifice I'm making.”

I laugh as I slip out of the car. Aaron is right behind me. We stop for a minute to watch the fountain show at the Bellagio near Caesar’s. I know it's just water fountains set to music with pretty colored lights for effect, but there's always been something beautiful and entrancing about it to me anyway. Whenever I come to Vegas, I make a point of coming here to check out the show.

I draw in a sharp breath and have to stifle the gasp that threatens to boil over when Aaron takes my hand. The feel of his large, strong hand intertwined with mine is wonderful and definitely makes my pulse race. I feel Aaron and I growing closer. While the prospect of that terrifies me, it also leaves me breathless. It's exciting in a way I've never known before. And knowing now, that he feels the same way fills me with an unexpected rush of happiness.

Giving me a smile, Aaron leads me into the hotel and we head for the lounge.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Aaron

I stare at myself in the restroom mirror for a long moment, just kind of reflecting on everything happening right now. What's going on with Emily still borders on the surreal to me, but somehow, it doesn't feel wrong. On the contrary, it actually feels very right – a feeling both incredible and disconcerting.

I've never been very good at relationships. Every single one I've ever been in has been short. I don't think I've ever had a relationship last more than six months. When I get together with somebody, I go into it knowing there's a shelf life to it. An expiration date.

With Emily, it somehow just feels different. I can't quite put it into words, but something about being with her this time seems less – temporary. Not that I'm saying we'll be together forever or anything crazy like that, but there's just something about this connection between us that feels solid. It somehow feels more real than any other relationship I've ever had.

It's nothing I can explain or understand. It's simply a feeling inside of me – and as bad as I've been at relationships, I've been far worse at dealing with feelings.

I wash my hands and the attendant hands me a towel. I dry off and toss the towel into the small basket next to the sink. I fish some money out of my wallet and tip the attendant on my way out the door. As I walk back toward our booth, I see another guy standing there. He's probably a few years younger than I am, stylishly dressed, and in pretty good shape. He leans over the table, a smarmy look on his face, his cockiness more than apparent even from across the lounge. Emily is sitting back in the booth looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask as I step up beside him.

I look at Emily, who has her chin raised and her jaw clenched, an unmistakable look of defiance on her face. I can't help but notice the flash of relief in her eyes when she sees me though.

“Nope,” the guy says, his breath thick with alcohol. “Just having a chat with this pretty lady here.”

“Chat's over,” I tell him. “She's with me.”

The man turns and squares himself up to me. He looks me up and down, obviously taking my measure. I can tell by the look in his eye that he's pretty sure he can take me.

“You sure about that?” he asks me.

“Positive.”

The man takes another step toward me on unsteady legs but sets himself and glares at me. I can see Emily growing even more uneasy in her seat.

“Aaron, it's okay,” she says. “We should leave anyway.”

“Nah,” the guy tells her. “Aaron here can leave and you should stay.”

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