Beautiful Bombshell (Beautiful Bastard, #2.5)

He had a point. “So what about Henry?” I asked, stopping at the stairs just outside the restaurant.

“Do you think he’ll be a problem?”

“I think if I shoved a thousand bucks in his pocket I wouldn’t see him again until Tuesday morning.”

“Brilliant. So we have a nice dinner, wait for Johnny to send someone over, and then find our girls. If all goes well I won’t see your ugly mug until the morning, when we can start this weekend properly.”

“Done.” We shook hands and made our way inside with a new sense of purpose.

Will and Henry were just where I’d left them and now surrounded by a mountain of bowls and platters. There were steaks and fish, salad with bacon, steaming dishes of vegetables and what had to be some of the biggest shellfish I’d ever seen.

“Wow,” Max said, looking over what had to be enough food to feed at least ten people. “Hungry?”

“We didn’t know what you’d want,” Henry said with a shrug. “Plus Ben’s picking up the bill so . . .”

“Feeling better?” Will asked Max skeptically.

“Much, thank you. And absolutely famished.”

We each took a seat and Max motioned to the waiter. “I’ll have another Macallan,” he said.

“And a Belvedere gimlet for me.” I pointed to Henry and Will across from me. “And bring them two of whatever they’re having.”

“So what did I miss?” Max asked, covering his plate in some sort of potatoes. “Did you two finally stop playing hard to get and decide to run off together? There’s a chapel just downstairs, I believe. In the casino.”

“Ha,” Will said. “We were actually discussing who would be next. I assured Henry here that the only possible answer was you.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Max said. “Never know what will happen with one of your sheduled booty calls.”

Will laughed.

“What about that, Stella? Think it’ll happen with you and Sara?” Henry asked.

Max smiled but it was the shielded smile that he wore whenever he spoke about Sara. “I haven’t had this conversation with her yet, I’m certainly not having it with you lot.”

“But you’ve considered it,” I found myself saying. I’d never seen Max fall for anyone like he had with Sara. I knew the feeling. He had to have at least considered it.

“Of course,” he answered. “But we’ve only been together for a short while. We’ve got time.”

Another round of drinks arrived and Max reached for his, holding it up for a toast. “To Bennett and Chloe. May your fights be rare, and if they aren’t—because who am I kidding—at least may they be followed by some wicked shagging.”

We all clinked glasses and drank deeply. The room seemed to expand and shrink, and I put my vodka down, reaching instead for my water.

“Well, I can’t wait to hit the tables,” Henry said, rubbing his palms together. “I spoke with a few of the dealers earlier. Kind of disappointed they have standard odds and no fire bet but hey, can’t win them all.”

“Wow. You sound like you’ve . . . really looked into this,” I said, wondering for a moment if I should be legitimately concerned.

He shrugged and cut into his steak. I made a mental promise that if he started talking about card counting or needing a spotter, I’d intervene. Who said I wasn’t a good brother?

We continued with dinner, Max and I sharing conspiratorial glances toward the door and back to each other. Just as Will excused himself to the restroom Max got a text.

“She’s here,” Max whispered. He typed something into his phone and pressed SEND. “Told Johnny what Will’s wearing and that he’ll be near the front of the restaurant. Showtime.”

“This is too easy,” I said, looking around, the tickle of uneasiness settling into my stomach. “Since meeting Chloe, nothing in my life is ever this easy.”

“Would you relax?” he said under his breath. “This isn’t insider trading, it’s finding a way for us to sneak off for a shag. Calm the fuck down.”

“Whoa.”

I looked up at the sound of Henry’s voice and followed his gaze across the room. A woman had stopped Will on his way back to the table. She was . . . beautiful, with miles of wavy red hair and makeup so skillfully applied she looked like a piece of art. She wore a short beaded dress that clung to her body and she smiled as she gazed at Will, her hand resting on his forearm.

But . . .

I nudged Max and pointed, sitting back when he looked up. “Is that the woman Johnny sent?”

His eyes widened before they narrowed slightly, as if he were trying to get a closer look, figure out what didn’t quite add up.

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