Beautiful Bombshell (Beautiful Bastard, #2.5)

“Should we wait for him or . . .?” Henry asked. “I could go out and kill a few minutes at one of the tables while we wait.”


I glanced down at my watch and groaned; the flimsy excuse Max had used about needing the bathroom was most definitely losing its credibility with each passing minute. And it wasn’t that I particularly cared if Max got busted—it’s possible that might actually improve my night—but if Max went down then so did I. We had the rest of the weekend with these guys, and Will would make it a living hell if he found out we’d been sneaking out to bang our girlfriends on Valentine’s Day.

And, truth be told, Will was the only single one here and was the most focused on hanging out with the guys. I felt a pang of guilt that, of the three of us who seemed to care more for women than gambling, he was the only one not getting laid this weekend.

“Sure he’ll be back any minute,” I said. “Must not have been feeling well.”

“What the hell did you two eat anyway?” Henry asked.

I tried to formulate an answer and remembered the waiter only when I heard him sigh. “I’ll give you gentlemen a few more minutes,” he said before stepping away.

Will narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, what is going on,” he said, words slurring together a little. “There’s no way a person could have this much diarrhea and survive.”

“Thank you for that very tasteful analysis.” I set my napkin on my plate and stood. “I’ll just step over there and see how much longer. You two go ahead and order for us. I’ll have the filet. Bloody.” I started to walk away and stopped, turning to face them again. “Oh, and get yourself a few more drinks,” I added with a smile. “It’s on me.”

The mood in the restaurant had changed as the night went on. Lights embedded in the ceiling and around the room had shifted from the soft white to warm gold, washing everything in rich color. The music was louder, not so loud that you couldn’t talk or make out individual conversations, but loud enough that you could feel it deep in your chest, a pounding like a second heartbeat. It felt more like a nightclub than a restaurant now and made it easier for me to step out unnoticed, to text Max.

Where the fuck are you?

I paced the glossy wood floors just outside, debating whether I could leave and get away with it. My phone vibrated with his incoming message less than a minute later.

Just pulling up. Two minutes.

We need to talk, I answered. I’ll meet you near valet.

With a glance over my shoulder to make sure Will or Henry hadn’t followed, I headed down to meet Max.

The casino floor was bustling. The sound of laughter and cheering floated up from one of the tables and a couple of police officers stood near the entrance, speaking to a group of valets.

Max stepped through the doors and stopped just in front of me, rebuttoning his suit jacket and straightening his tie. “Always so impatient,” he said, glancing twice at the police before gripping my arm. “Perhaps we could move just over here . . .” He guided us away from the area and out of their direct line of sight.

“Oh, that’s comforting. You’re dodging the police now? Jesus Christ, what is happening? I feel like an accomplice in some sort of crime spree,” I said, running a hand through my hair.

“The less you know, the better, mate. Trust me.”

“And the toilet, Max? Really? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“As if your excuse was any better? An ulcer? You’ve lost your touch, mate. The Ben I knew in uni would be ashamed. Love’s made you soft.”

I sighed, glancing behind me. “You’ve been gone for almost an hour. What the fuck took you so long?”

He gave me a wide, leering smile. He looked happy. Fuck, he looked downright giddy, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. I knew that expression; I’d been wearing it less than ten minutes ago.

“Just gave the lady friend a screaming orgasm, mate.”

“Okay, right. I did not need to know that.”

“You’re one to talk.” He stretched his neck, cracking it. “So how are the boys?”

“Replacing most of their blood with vodka and discussing the beauty of aged meats.”

“Shall we head up for dinner, then?”

He went to push by me but I reached for his arm, stopping him. “Look, you know what I’ve been doing and I know what you’ve been doing, let’s cut the bullshit. Back in New York, I’m lucky to get Chloe to myself for ten full minutes. They’re only here tonight. Let’s help each other out here.”

His expression seemed to sober and he nodded. “Am I the only one that finds it hilarious that it’s Valentine’s Day and we’re the ones behaving like idiots and chasing them rather than the other way ’round?”

“The thought may have occurred to me once or twice, yes,” I said with a shake of my head. These women made us insane. “We need a plan. It will be no problem to get our comrades lost in a meat coma but that won’t last all night. And Will is getting suspicious.”

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