Chapter 45

The casino is everything I imagined it would be; I’ve watched enough episodes of CSI to not be awed at the splendor of the vast red carpeted room, filled with machines and tables and noise. He tries his luck at a few tables and soon looks bored. He’s never been much of a gambler; he likes to have situations laid out in a way that he controls the players and always wins. It’s why he’s his father’s second in command with his inherited skills. Although after the Hunter merger, I’m beginning to think his skills surpass that of Senior, seeing he knew how to play him well.

“You want to hit a club instead of this?” he’s close to me and I can already tell he’s fed up with the casino. I glance at a couple of women appraising him up and down and am mildly irritated. Maybe I should point him in the direction of the two leggy blondes and go back to the room. Have my quiet night after all. Seeing them look him over like fresh meat I pout; I’m irritated by it again and I’m aware it’s unattractive. I glare and turn my attention back to him.

“Sure.” I decide defiantly as I catch blonde girl licking her lips and thrusting her boobs forward, readying herself to approach him from the corner of my eye.

No doubt the slutty pair don’t mind group sex.

He grins happily, unaware of the female attention he’s receiving. Impulsively, I slide my arm through his possessively, throwing back my hair and sending the “hoes” a signal.

Back off, he’s not interested.

* * *

The nightclub is dark and booming and we get in easily; they know who he is, even though we’re far away from home. A common Carrero curse. I spot some well-known faces and gush when I realize there are some celebrities here and even more so when a couple of them wave his way. He’s holding my hand and pulling me through the crowds. Jake is never wary of unfamiliar places, and new crowds, he feels at ease wherever we go.

I’m trying to go easy on the alcohol, but Jake’s a seasoned-drinker and frequents the bar for top ups faster than I can drink. He has me half-drunk already and I don’t know how many times he’s pulled me onto the dance floor; everything bumping and thumping around me. He’s a good dancer and even though we have danced close at times, I get the impression he’s trying to keep a gentlemanly distance. He’s still flirty and having the usual banter with me, but there’s a definite coolness in him now we’re here. He is also staying sober, considering the way I have seen him fall into hotel rooms after a night out.

We’re dancing to a high-tempo song and people he knows are around us. He seems to find acquaintances everywhere we go. The upside to having a famous face and travelers’ blood, I guess. We sit with them and share a few drinks before I get up to dance with a girl named Lolly, who can’t keep her eyes off Jake: it’s irritating as hell. It only makes me snarky and I find I have no warmth for the girl at all. I cut in a few times to dance in front of her with an invasive shimmy, in the name of saving him from her wandering hands anytime she gets too close to him. Jake seems amused and just pulls me close to let me dance against him. Oblivious.

He came out to have fun, not get mauled by some overbearing red head in a Wonderbra.

Jake doesn’t even seem to acknowledge it at all. Maybe this is why I avoid going out with him? This need to have women leave him be and let him enjoy his night. I suppose it’s the opposite of what he wants, but right now I don’t care. I’m not playing third wheel.

He leaves to go to the bar with one of the men that we have started to party with. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him on the big screen, but I’m too shy to ask and his posse all look a tad familiar. I’m wildly outside my comfort zone.

Hands move around me as a shady, sleazy, familiar face slides in behind me and tries some groin to butt hump dancing. I remove his fingers icily, aware of that rise of bile in my stomach at a male touch, and stumble to the bar feeling thoroughly cringe; looking for the one guy I feel safe with. I don’t want this creep’s hands on me, his breath on my neck. I want Jake’s presence and the security it offers from overly handy men.

Jake’s being served and hands me a colorful cocktail as soon as I appear beside him. It has a sparkly straw and umbrella and he grins as he places it in my hands. I’m sure there’s some sort of joke in it, but I’m thirsty and it tastes amazing. It reminds me of the drink he gave me in his office the first time I ever met him. He regards me weirdly and shakes his head in amusement, looking at the drink in my hand. I guess it’s the fact I’m holding a pink sparkly drink with a ménage of decorations that’s amusing, without argument, and obviously liking it; it’s not me. I kind of like it though and I like that it amuses him. That smile always makes me smile, while looking down at my pretty drink.

Again, a hand slides slowly over my ass, copping a feel with a firm suggestive squeeze, and I jerk my head up in shock.

What the hell is he doing?

Except, Jake is standing in front of me with a beer in one hand and his cell in the other, staring down at the illuminated screen; he clocks my reaction and looks past me, scowling.

“Hey, buddy … Hands off.” He glares, and the shady familiar face lifts his palms in mock apology. Still towering behind me a little too closely. I move nearer to Jake in a bid to put distance behind me.

“Jake, mate … You said she was just a friend,” he’s slurring, almost in my ear, he’s so close.

“I know what I said.” Jake moves forward, pulling me aside with a strong hand and places himself between me and sleazy. I’m not sure how to react so I sip my drink nervously. Glad of his powerful body shielding me; in this state I may just curl up and cry.

Where is feisty Emma?

The rear-view of Jake’s body towers in front of me and I can almost taste the tension emanating from him. I guess this is a hint at angry Jake coming out to play. He’s always quicker to temper tantrums when he’s drunk, or so Daniel implied when regaling drunken tales last time he stayed over. His stiff body and electric sparks crackling in the air, even from back here. Angry Jake is not much fun. Whatever sleazy is saying to him, he doesn’t seem to like it at all. I can’t hear their mumbled conversation over the music, so I look him up and down instead, enjoying the waves of drunkenness calming and pulling me into dreamy euphoria.

I like his back, it’s strong and sexy, especially in black tailored shirts; and those ass hugging black jeans. He has the nicest ass. He has the swooniest male body if I’m being honest, no matter what he wears. He’s still so cool and in control, regardless of his stance.

“Buddy” displays defeat, says something quietly and moves off with a frown. I can tell, even from behind, that Jake’s glowering at him. I saw his ears move. I had to suppress the giggle it pulls out of me, some vague drunken memory about his ears. I don’t know why that’s funny. I can only blame the copious amount of alcohol that Jake has kept throwing at me since our arrival.

“Jake?” I’m already tipsy and a bit unsteady on four-inch heels.

Damn Donna and her love of high shoes, and my weakness at seeing them. Damn me for not keeping track of how much I’ve drunk and letting him fuel me on cocktails this way.

I take stock of how much things are swaying around me, or maybe it’s me that’s swaying? He turns to me and there’s a look on his face that’s unfamiliar, scary in an attractive way. Possessive, dangerous, but then it’s gone and he’s all Mr. Smooth. smiles again and asking what’s wrong, with a look of concern.

I love his looks of concern; they make me all warm and gooey inside. Sexiness personified when he looks that way. I just love all of Jake’s looks, heck I love Jake’s face. I just love Jake.

“I think I’m too drunk.” I giggle, sloshing my drink over the glass and barely miss both of our shoes. He frowns down at where it went before a smile breaks across that charming face.

How the hell did that happen?

“I think you’re right, lightweight; I forgot how intolerant you are to liquor.” He takes the glass from me carefully and places it on the bar as I sway around. I can’t help but watch the way his upper arm bulges when he bends it.

Why does he have to be so muscly and hunky?

He always buys fitted clothes that only add to the effect and it’s really soul destroying. He should wear sack’s from now on, maybe that would help. I can picture him in a sack, it’s still a turn on and that alarms me. Life isn’t fair in any way.