“After you, Sweet Cream.”
I laugh at his nickname. It’s just as ridiculous as Peaches, and he knows it. It feels as if on one level we’re playing a game, and on another it feels as if we’re intertwining our souls. How can the two happen at the same time? How can I feel as if I’m falling in love with a total stranger who’s said ten words to me?
I pick up the flute and hold it up in a toast. Antonio does the same, and I lean in a little to whisper. The waiter has since left, but I like the idea of sharing a secret with Antonio.
“I only drink champagne on two occasions. When I’m in love and when I’m not.”
Antonio laughs, and shakes his head. “Wrong Coco Chanel quote, Sweet Cream. You should have used ‘The best things in life are free. The second best things are very, very expensive.’”
He softly clinks his flute to mine, and I can’t help the wicked smile I give him. This man knew my quote and bested me on it. I like a challenge.
I take a sip of the champagne and close my eyes, swallowing and tasting the cold bubbly.
“So? Worth a small country?”
Opening my eyes and looking at him, I set the glass down and sit back in my seat. I raise my eyebrow at him, and he smiles, shaking his head.
“It’s not bad,” I finally admit, having to give in a little. It tastes like good champagne, but I’m not sure I’d want to order another bottle.
“Can I say that I’m a little disappointed that diamonds didn’t pour out of the bottle?”
I can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of me. He’s too adorable, and my cheeks hurt from smiling at him so much.
“Tell me about you, Peaches.”
“How about you tell me why you want me to call you Antonio when everyone calls you Don?” I retort, trying to deflect. Men love to talk about themselves. Just ask the right questions and you never have to say a single word about yourself all night. Most of them don’t even remember your name. It works for someone like me, someone who needs to get what she wants, but also needs to blend in.
“Antonio Cortez is my real name. Everyone calls me Don. You’re not everyone. Now tell me why you’re counting cards around Vegas.”
I’m surprised at how quickly he turns the conversation back to me.
“Do you want me to leave your casino?” I take another sip of my champagne, hoping this isn’t his polite way of kicking me out.
“No. I don’t care if you take the house. I just want you close.”
I nearly choke on the bubbles when I hear his blunt statement. After I swallow, I laugh a little. “You’re okay with me bankrupting the Golden Peacock?”
“Tell me your real name.”
“Don’t change the subject,” I deflect again, not wanting to talk about me.
“I will tell you anything you ever want to know about me, but I want to talk to you as you. Not as someone you pretend to be. I’ve lived long enough and made enough money that it all means nothing. It’s only money. But you, you’re real. And that I would never want to lose.”
His words shock me and make me warm all over. There’s a heat between us that is unexplainable, and his honesty about his feeling are fast and scary. I can feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest, and I lick my lips as I try to find the words to deny him what he wants.
In the end, I can’t do it. “Georgia,” I whisper, wanting to give him everything he asks for.
Feeling his warm fingers on mine, I look down at my hands. He opens his hand, palm down on the table, and I slide mine into his, looking at his tanned skin against my soft white. He has calluses I didn't expect, and I feel them as his big palm wraps around mine, the muscles of his wrist flexing.
It’s completely insane that the feel of his skin on my skin should feel so perfect. That the small touch has my whole body alive with passion I’ve never felt. Looking down at where we’re connected, it’s as if I’ve done this a thousand times, our bodies holding memories we can’t recall.
When I look up into his bright blue eyes, I see the softness there. I want to fall into them and never come out. I want to trust him and let him hold me so that I can finally stop pretending to be something I’m not.
“Georgia, you can have anything in this casino you want. Including me.”
I lick my lips, trying to find words to respond to him, but I can’t.
“I don’t know what this is, but I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve never felt this uncontrollable pull to anything.” I feel his fingertip brush across my wrist, feeling my pulse. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”
Taking a breath, I feel myself about to take the leap. To tell him something honest and real.
“Dinner is served,” the waiter says, breaking the spell.
I pull my hand away from Antonio's. My fingers are suddenly very cold. I look anywhere but into his bright blue eyes, not able to do it yet. I need to square my shoulders and put my game face back on.
I can do this. Be charming, be polite, be his fantasy. Just don’t let him touch me again. I don’t know that I’m strong enough to survive it.
5
Don