Chapter Ten
She said she’d meet me here, that she had something to do, but I’m damned if I can see her anywhere. I’ve scanned the casino at least three times finding nothing but the usual assortment of wealth and finery. It’s dull, monotonous. The same thing I’ve seen for the last twenty years of my life.
She’s far from that.
I tug a little at my collar, unused to the restriction around my neck after all this time not wearing one and signal the barkeep for another scotch. He does as they always do and brings it swiftly, so I stare into the glass rather than waste my energy on anything else here. It’s her I want to see. That’s all. I want that smile that comes when she hears this dirty mouth of mine, the slightly sleazy lift of her lips that does all kinds of things to me.
The flower rests beside me. Tahitian Gardenia. It’s as delicate as she is, yet smooth and tough at the edges, protecting itself somehow with an impenetrable outer layer. It makes me smile and I pull it towards me, fingering the white petals lightly as I take another slug of my drink and wait.
All day we’ve fucked around again, lounging with each other and smiling. Relaxing. It’s all we’ve done the entire time we’ve been here together, short of a few snapped comments. It’s like we’ve found the missing parts of ourselves in each other, certainly from my perspective, anyway. It’s annoying, confusing. It’s also making me consider that this is not simply a holiday fling.
Where the hell is she?
I snort at myself, amused with what I’ve become around her. Or maybe it’s just here, on this island, thousands of miles away from home and not giving one fuck for going back.
I’ve changed. I can feel it. I’m calmer, more relaxed. Less inclined to try calculating everything, and undeniably settled with the thought of just being.
A ruckus somewhere draws my head back up, neck twisting in case I need to be concerned. Fuck, old habits die hard. It’s just a bunch of dicks at the craps table, some of them pissed that their money’s gone to the house. I smile, remembering Quinn’s reaction every time that same thing happens in one of ours. He damn well loves it. Loves the loaded pockets, loves the power he holds over them all. It’s who he is, whether made that way or not. No one has survived his wrath. Not one person. I’ve watched him grow, backed him the entire way. Been there for him and waited until the right woman came along to change his perceptions. Hoped.
Who fucking knew it would be someone like Emily.
My head shakes as I think about her. She’s a good woman. I know that, but I can’t see her without seeing Josh. For the first time since it happened, though, and maybe because of this atmosphere, I’m less furious about it. I stare around the room again, watching the fakery present itself to the rest of the clientele. High end everything. Jewellery dripping off skin. Pretentious fucks. I’ve more than likely got more money in offshore accounts than these dicks have ever dreamt of.
I turn back to my drink again, less than enamoured with her timing. Patience is a learnt virtue in my line of work, and this island is bringing the old me right back to the forefront. Maybe I’m more like Quinn than I imagined.
Fuck this.
My legs have me standing up and walking the damn room to search for her again before I’ve considered my actions, flower in hand. I’m pacing the outer limits like a starved dog, weaving the tables, all the time watching for swindlers trying their luck to avoid my own feelings. They’re all about her.
I can feel them inside me, burning their way through what should be cold. I’m not like Quinn, though. Never have been. Not deep down. Something in me yearns for more than this barren landscape the Cane name creates. It searches for the good in people, hopes for connection and warmth even though it knows it shouldn’t. And she’s giving me that now. She’s finding the memories of my childish dreams with her attitude and flair. I’m smiling more. Laughing more. Christ, I’m even remembering the younger brother in me who tried to wind Quinn up all those years ago, the one who got to laugh and have fun.
Play.
I stand after a bit, mildly interested in a guy who’s not exactly playing by the house rules. He’s counting cards, aiming for a drunken fool who’s got more money than sense. I chuckle and keep watching, playing his odds right along with him. He’s doing well, and if it was my casino I’d have him lynched, but it’s not. Not this time.
I smile at my lack of responsibility and wander off again towards the roulette wheels.
And then I see the back of her, her chin slightly turned in my direction.
Fuck.
It’s no wonder I couldn’t find her. What the hell?
The vision is nothing like the Gabby I know. Tight damn everything—a full-length red dress clinging to every curve she’s got, stilettos making those legs longer than even my eyes can process, regardless of the fact I had them wrapped around my neck earlier today. Jesus. My dick twitches as I slowly move forward, enough so that I have to hitch the damn thing around as I wonder who the hell she is some more. She looks like she’s worth a fortune, owning the air around her just by standing still. The diamonds around her skin alone must be valued at more than the roulette table will make tonight. And the asshole talking to her needs to stop whatever he’s thinking of doing with his hand.
A guy knocks into me, his drink spilling on my black tux.
“Back the hell off,” I snarl out quietly, scowling at his interference in my vision.
He does, hands raised in the air by way of apology, and I’m thankful as fuck for that because I don’t think I can handle whatever damn jealousy is ripping me apart. I haven’t ever felt like this. Not once. It’s in my chest, boring away at me and increasing a heart rate that never gets above average.
My feet stall, part of me not knowing what to do. This shouldn’t be happening. Holiday fling. That’s all. It’s what both of us want. And there’s no way in hell I’m dragging someone as perfect as this into the world I have to go back to, irrespective of who she really is. This ends here. It ends when we both step back onto a plane and wave goodbye, happy to have fucked our way into oblivion for a few weeks. I should walk away now, back off before this damn feeling in my chest makes me do shit I should not do.
I don’t.
The walk to her is swift and pitiless to anyone in my way. A group of men block my route, all swaying with the amount of booze they’ve consumed. One is pushed, another barged by my shoulder until he reels backwards towards the tables. I scowl the moment he comes back at me, ready to prove his temper unusable. This accountant knows all about defending territory, regardless of the tuxedo.
My hands grab for her with more force than I intend, fingers synching around her waist to pull her back into me. She gasps a little, the jolt onto me proving a surprise.
