“Yes, I’m sure. He’s been my driver my whole life. He could’ve tattled on me for all the trouble I got into as a teen, yet he never once did.”
“Or maybe Fluoridedidrat you out—but he’s such a useful spy, your dad couldn’t punish you, because he didn’t want to blow Fluoride’s cover.”
I giggled. “His name isFlorin!Not Fluoride!”
“Whatever his name is. You know I’m right.”
“Hm. Maybe you are,” I said, playing along. If he didn’t want to kiss me in front of Florin? Fine … I just had to get himawayfrom Florin. “If you’re so worried about spies, you could walk me up to my room?”
His smile reached his eyes, and he switched off the engine. “I would be glad to.”
“Yay,” I said, trying to sound understated, as if my heart wasn’t currently swelling with anticipation at the thought of his lips on mine.
I climbed out of the car. When Dakota wasn’t looking, I gave Florin a little wave, who responded with a head nod. Dakota climbed out, too, and led the way into the Grand Royale.
The hotel doors slid open, the evening air coming alive with an electrifying energy. Guests rushed about the bustling lobby in a flurry of activity, chatting, laughing, announcing their plans to win big at the adjoining casino.
Once we’d gotten lost in the crowd—and away from Florin’s prying eyes—Dakota felt comfortable enough to offer his arm to me.
I took it, but I couldn’t resist teasing him. “You do realize my dad owns this hotel, right?”
“Yeah, so what?”
I gave him a devious smirk. “Well, if hereallywanted to spy on us, all he’d have to do was check the security tapes and catch us together.”
“Are youtryingto get rid of me?” He grinned and gestured towards the exit. “Because hey, I can go, if you really want me to. Hell, it’d probably make my life a lot easier if I did—”
“Noo!” I laughed, holding onto his arm tighter. “Don’t go!”
He grinned. “Just kidding. I’m not going anywhere. So, uh, where are we headed?”
“Over there.” I gestured towards the elevators, and we made our way over.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked as we walked.
“Please, do.”
“I like your name,” he said. “Your real name. Not Jane, not Olivia, butOttavia. Ottavia is a sexy-ass name.”
I laughed. “Thank you. I think Dakota’s a sexy name, too.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty sexy,” he said cockily. “What does Ottavia mean?”
“It’s Italian for eight.”
“Eight? Why eight?”
“I was born on the eighth day of the eighth month.”
“August eighth, huh. That’s easy to remember. Maybe I’ll get you something for your birthday?”
“I know what you can get me!” I said, bumping him with my side. “You can give me those driving lessons you promised.”
“Nah. That’s sooner. That’ll be part of your payment for tonight.”
“Works for me,” I said, and pressed the elevator call button. “What’s Dakota mean?”
“I dunno. I never looked it up.”
