Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Her eyes widen. “You do remember.”
I’d continue singing, but won’t subject the people around us to that, so I chuckle. “It’s catchy.”
Sighing, she drops her gaze to my watch again. “Your dad gave you that on your eighteenth birthday, right?”
I nod.
Before I can say another word, her left hand lands on my wrist. “I’m sorry you lost him, Daniel. He was one of the best men I ever knew.”
He ranks as the best in my books, so I nod again.
“You said at dinner that you wanted to make every one of his wishes come true.” She pauses. “Was one of those wishes that you’d work in finance?”
That’s a broad term to explain how I earn a living, but Gina’s well aware of that. Her brother and I partnered with a mutual friend years ago to launch a firm that now handles the fortunes of many billionaire clients. Becoming a wealth manager was the smartest career move I ever made.
“He wanted me to make a lot of money doing something I love,” I clarify.
She mimes making a check mark in the air with her index finger. “Mission accomplished on that wish.”
I stare into her brown eyes, wishing I knew what to say to keep her in this spot for another minute or sixty.
I fail miserably when she slides off her bar stool. “Enjoy your shots, slow poke.”
Just as I reach for one, she picks it up and drinks it.
I laugh. “You’re welcome, Gina.”
Her tongue darts out to catch a drop of lingering liquor from her bottom lip. “You should be thanking me, Lawton.”
I drag my gaze from her lips to focus on her eyes again. “For what?”
She glances at the bartender. “Charge all of the shots to my room.”
He flashes her a broad smile. “No charge, Gina. Our Instagram follower count has jumped since you posted an hour ago. All of the shots are on the house.”
Almost twelve hours later, I walk into one of the hotel’s restaurants at precisely two minutes to eleven, wearing a pair of graphite gray pants and a white button-down shirt. I may be in Vegas for the weekend, but I’ve got a host of wealthy clients in Los Angeles and New York City who expect me to be on call for them twenty-four seven.
Two based in L.A. have already reached out this morning via video chat, even though that city moves at a slower pace than this one.
I glance around, hoping to see the dark-haired beauty who left me in the dust last night after she downed three shots in record time.
I’m disappointed when I spot the party of four waiting for me at a table with a view of a fountain that tourists flock to.
I’ve never understood the appeal of Vegas. I was lured here in my early twenties by the promise of riches and willing women. I enjoyed both, but every time I boarded a plane to head back to Manhattan, I was more than ready to leave this place and all the sins it offers behind.
This weekend is different. I’m here to celebrate my best friend and his bride-to-be, but beyond that, I’m enjoying being in the same city as Gina.
I look over my shoulder to the entrance of the restaurant, but she’s not in sight.
When I glance back toward Dominick, he’s beckoning me closer with a curl of his fingers.
With even steps, I walk toward him until I’m less than a foot away. “Hey!”
A chorus of greetings from Dominick, Arietta, Bella, and Barrett hit me simultaneously.
I smile in response before glancing down to see five table settings. I’m about to ask the obvious question, but Dominick jumps in to answer it without any prompting from me. “Gina had a work thing pop up that she needed to take care of. She sent mimosas and a massive bouquet of pink and red roses to our room this morning to make up for missing brunch.”
“She thinks of everything,” Arietta chimes in. “She’s a sweetheart, but she works too hard.”
Something tells me she’s working hard to avoid me, but I brush it off and sit on the vacant chair beside my best friend. “A mimosa sounds great. What does a guy need to do to score one of those?”
CHAPTER SIX
Gina
You have got to be kidding me.
I drag my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose to have an unobstructed view of the shirtless man heading my way.
He’s wearing light blue board shorts with a zigzagging pattern of white lines. It’s a brand I know well since I’m wearing a one-piece in the same color palette as his shorts.
“What the hell, Lawton?” I whisper under my breath as he nears me.
The slap of his leather sandals against the concrete next to the pool sounds through the air. The only other people here are three bikini-clad women immersed in a conversation about their plans for tonight. They’re on their second round of drinks. They invited me to join them, but I declined, telling them I had to make notes on my phone for work.