50
The day is tiring, and my hair has endlessly stuck to my face in this humidity. Vegas is hot and dusty, and I’m still grumpy and tired. We flew out here right after Sophie was taken away by the care worker and Jake’s mother, Sylvana Carrero, the beautiful, kind goddess with stunning green eyes who looks so alarmingly like her son but very feminine. I love her in every way; anytime I meet her, she has this easy charm and the ability to put one at ease, much like he does.
I fought back the tears when hugging Sophie goodbye; our time together was so short, yet she had come to mean so much to me. Jake bought her a new cell and pre-set both of our numbers and emails into it as a parting gift; we can always stay in touch, and she knows we will be there if she needs us. We have a bond like no other. We understand each other. We’ll be like her eternal guardian angels in life, and I know that I will always be in Sophie’s story from this day on.
“Want to try the casinos, tiny?” Jake’s voice comes up behind me as I empty my suitcase onto my bed, looking for a change of clothes, anything to relieve the stickiness of my suit. We arrived in such a rush that neither of us had unpacked yet; usually, housekeeping does such things in our absence, but this time they haven’t. I'm not too fond of incompetence in one’s job.
“I’m still tired. I think I’ll have a bubble bath and go to bed,” I sigh.
“First time in Vegas, and you want to go to bed? Bambina, no! You gotta live a little.” He sounds frustrated with me. By normal standards, it’s been a hell of a long week, and I’ve been freefalling for days. I can’t keep up the pace as he can. Jake has no sense of exhaustion …ever!
“Would you rather I stay out late with you then pout for the entire morning as I did on the plane?” I was probably the most irritated, grumpy person I have ever been on that flight, reeling with emotions about Sophie, my mother, and Ray Vanquis, not to mention trying to ignore memories of kissing my boss and going pie-eyed over him. Thankfully, I seem to have normalized a little in his presence again, the kiss not such a bright and burning memory as it had been, allowing me to detach a little from it.
“I’m sure I can have the hotel bring me a bag for your head so I don’t have to see it.” He grins, raising his eyebrow mischievously. We’re back to normal.
“Nice. Charming and understanding as always, Jacob!” I pout again, sighing.
“Less of the Jacob, or I’ll put you over my knee. Come out with me.” He’s in a boyish, pleading mode now, tugging at my hair to annoy me into a ‘yes.’
Bored, Jake, darling?
I don’t know where he gets his boundless energy; it’s after nine at night, and we’ve had a day of grueling appointments, boring meetings, and a late business dinner, and now he wants to go play. Has he no clue how much of an emotional roller coaster I have been on lately?
“Don’t you have any Vegas hotties lined up yet?” I sass him demurely. I guess being drop-dead gorgeous, built like an underwear model, and rich has its perks. With the vast number of women he has tucked at every port, I often wonder in awe how he manages to find half of them with minimal effort.
My suggestion for him to find a date grates on my nerves, rattling me inside. I have no idea why I even suggested it. A little jealousy raises its head, and I bite it back down.
“I don’t want a Vegas hottie tonight. I want my pouty PA to let her hair down and come kick back with me.” He moves in closer, his warmth radiating along the back of my neck, making my skin tingle. His familiar aftershave disturbingly surrounds me.
“I was under the impression I already did,” I say as I ruffle my loose hair to make the point; lately, I’ve been too tired to tie it up. Its length has been annoying me too, and I keep thinking I should get it cut shorter, maybe shoulder length.
“You know what I mean, sassy pants,” he mocks with a smile while playfully nudging me on the chin.
“You pay me to be bright and chipper at your meetings,” I respond with a wavering smile, turning to look at him over my shoulder as he walks away to lift his cell from the charging dock. I’m trying to express my tiredness as I flutter at him coquettishly.
“I pay you to do what I say. And right now, it’s to come out with me. I want to play, get drunk, and feel up my sexy PA.” He throws his charming wink over at me and walks back, cell in hand, moving close in behind me, the warmth of his presence invading through the thin material of my blouse. He’s almost touching me, his heat radiating alarmingly. Since our sleep kiss, I have been way more sensitive to him, and it’s been throwing me all out of whack, especially as he seems to be a lot more demonstrative and hands-on.
“We both know that’s not on the cards; besides, I didn’t bring anything to wear to a casino, Jake,” I lie, knowing there’s a black cocktail dress in my suitcase. I’m always under orders to carry a dress for an impromptu dinner or party when we travel. Like an eagle spotting prey at a distance, he leans past me and pulls the dress out, lifting it to let it hang in the air between us accusingly.
Hmmm, busted!
“Perfect! Sexy dress for little sexy Emma.” He drapes it over my shoulder and slaps my butt with a swift, sharp smack. I squeak in protest and throw him a haughty look. “Put it on; I’ll be five minutes max.”
I sigh heavily, ordered about by him again! In Jake's terms, he will be more like twenty minutes. I can’t even argue. I exhale again, more defeatedly this time, and sag knowing that he’s in his delightful, stubborn mode, and I’ll get no say; arguing is pointless. I am tired, and I want to go to bed. The last thing I need is a tight dress, alcohol, and the proximity of my boss in flirt mode when I’m struggling to control my hormones around him. I’ve made a habit of avoiding him in drunk mode ever since the kitchen kiss. Drunk Jake just makes me wary; he loses even more of his inhibitions if that’s even possible, and I have no idea how to deal with him if he gets a little romantic. Or I do.
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