Gentleman Sinner

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  “Actually, no, I came to Vegas because I have some business to see to.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “What business?” What does he do, anyway?

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Excuse me?” I’m insulted, and it’s obvious. “You turn up here out of the blue, and you’re telling me it’s not—”

  “Hey! It’s the British girls!” The greeting doesn’t have time to register in my mind. Someone grabs me around the waist from behind and I startle, flying forward away from the touch, my heart jumping into my throat. “Shit, didn’t mean to scare you,” Denny says, holding his hands up in apology when I turn his way.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur, embarrassed, as Jess reaches for me and rubs my arm gently, seeing how mortified I am. I shake my head in despair as Denny and Kyle gleam at us, their bare chests slick with tanning oil, their board shorts low on their hips. When neither Jess nor I returns their smiles, they spend a few moments assessing the scene, both taken aback when they notice Theo, who’s moved a few steps away. “Whoa.” Denny laughs, seeing the mountain of man before him and realizing he’s with us. I mentally rewind. No, Theo’s not with us. He’s gate-crashing.

  I smile awkwardly, looking to my friend for help. She shrugs. She’s lost, too. Theo moves in closer to me, definitely possessive. I don’t know if I should be angered or appreciative. But I do know that I need to break this uncomfortable atmosphere. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell Jess as the waiter arrives with our drinks.

  She takes them but shakes her head discreetly, flicking a look at Theo, who has now removed his shades and has a death stare rooted on the two American guys we met last night. Denny’s hand lifts, reaching for Theo’s bicep. “Hey, man,” he says, but his intended friendly gesture of a light smack to Theo’s arm is dodged stealthily, Theo virtually bending backward to avoid it. Denny’s eyes widen at the fast move, and he steps back. And Theo’s death stare intensifies. “Sorry, man,” Denny says, nervous as shit. “Just a friendly hello.”

  “Then say it,” Theo growls. “Don’t touch me.”

  I recoil at his rudeness, as does everyone else in the group. This is horrible. I dip to get in Theo’s field of vision. “Can we talk?”

  “Yes,” he grates and indicates some tables and chairs set back from the pool. “I’ll get drinks.” He starts to head off, but pulls to a stop, giving each of my friends a moment of his eyes before looking at me. “And please, cover yourself up.” He carries on his way.

  Jess’s mouth drops and hits the rim of her plastic beaker. “Is he serious?”

  I ignore her rhetorical question and slip my caftan over my head, not because I’m obeying him, but because I feel exposed enough without being half-naked in his presence. “See you in a sec.” I walk away from Jess, hearing whispered questions as I go. I have a serious mental pep talk going on in my head, but as I get closer to the table at the far back that Theo has chosen for our talk, the sound of my determined, sensible voice gets drowned out by his growing closeness. I’m in trouble. So much fucking trouble.

  I slip on my sunglasses, hoping they will help offer some protection from his burning cobalt eyes, and take a seat on the opposite side of the table. He slides a glass across the table to me. “Water?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  On an inhale, I stop a waiter as he passes. “A vodka tonic, please,” I say confidently, returning my attention to Theo. “He’s paying.” His jaw is beyond tight, his eyes burning holes in me. “Be careful.” I smile sweetly. “You’ll burn this cover-up off with that filthy look, and we can’t have that, can we?”

  He reaches for my sunglasses, dragging them gently away from my face. I pull in a small hitch of breath, freezing in my chair, my sass shot down. “I want to see your eyes so I know what you’re thinking past this brave front.” He lays them gently on the table and places his own pair of shades down next to them.

  “Business?” I ask sardonically.

  “Yes, business. Why didn’t you tell me you were going on holiday?”

  “It’s none of your business.” I’m polite but straight, though bubbling on the inside with annoyance. “You’re just a man who asked me out for dinner. That’s it. I don’t owe you an explanation for my plans.”

  “I am not just a man, Izzy.”

  “You are to me,” I retort, knowing resistance is the best way forward, even though Theo’s flash of hurt actually bothers me. My vodka lands on the table, and I grasp it with both hands as Theo shoves a note at the waiter, not even looking at him. “I’m on holiday with a friend,” I say. “It’s been in the making for years, so I would be grateful if you didn’t ruin it.”

  “It’ll only be ruined if you let it be ruined.”

  I peek up through my lashes. “What do you mean?”

  He sits forward in his chair, coming closer. The seriousness on his face is a cause for concern. “I mean, I’ll promise not to bother you again. I’ll let you have your girlie break. But you have to promise me dinner.”

  I laugh at his cheekiness. “You’ll let me have my girlie holiday?”

  He nods, not seeing the hilarity of his statement.

  “Why thanks, stranger.”

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “No.”

  “I’ve come a long way. The least you can do is give me dinner in return.”

  Business my arse. “I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask you to pursue me like some weirdo. Jesus, Theo. Don’t you see how stalkerish this is?”

  His teeth sink into his bottom lip in contemplation as he studies me. “Stop playing games, Izzy. My patience is already stretched.”

  My jaw locks in an attempt to stop it from dropping in disbelief. “I’ll have dinner with you.” I stand, disgusted by his behavior, now just wanting to get away before that disgust transforms into something else that’s far less easy to cope with. Like lust. Like desire. Just like Theo’s approach to me, my feelings are contradictory. One second, I’m wary of him, the next I’m mentally stripping his clothes off. “I’ll call you when I’m home.” I pass him but get no farther than two steps. His hand shoots toward me, stopping me in my tracks, though he doesn’t actually make contact. I look down at it hovering a few inches from my wrist, and then look up to Theo.

  “I need to touch you,” he whispers, slowly reaching for me and seizing my wrist, wrapping his big fingers completely around it.

  I concentrate on taking deep breaths. His touch. Oh, God, his touch. It’s like an intense, deep warmth that starts in one spot before spreading in every direction across my skin like cracking glass. Need? He needs to touch me?

  Theo watches his hand on my arm, his face thoughtful, with a definite hint of intrigue. “Tonight at eight,” he says, his polite order leaving me no choice but to look at him. He’s gazing up at me, waiting, his blue eyes shining with…hope?

  “Here?” I ask. “You want me to have dinner with you here in Vegas?”

  “I’m staying at the Bellagio. Call me when you arrive, and I’ll have Callum meet you at reception.” He stands and moves in closer, dipping and kissing my cheek tenderly as his palm strokes over the curve of my arse. Tingles flutter across my skin, tickling me deliciously. It makes me panic, and I engage the muscles in my arms to lift and push him away. My hands come up, but they don’t connect with his torso. Theo catches my wrists, stopping me from touching him once again, predicting my move. “Don’t let me down, Izzy.”

  He turns and is strolling away from me before I can even think to object. I immediately have to sit down again to collect myself. The lingering feel of his soft bristle on my face and his breath spreading across my cheek resonates as I watch his long, thick legs take steady strides. He moves with effortless grace for such a huge man, weaving through the crowds without even a brush of contact to a single person.

  My heart is going loopy, my fingers clawed into the arms of the chair. It takes a good ten minutes of pulling myself togeth
er in my seat before I chance standing, lifting myself slowly to ensure my stability. He does this to me. He tosses me into ineptness, and no matter how hard I try to cling to my clear and stable frame of mind, I’m destined to fail each time. Theo has a hold of me and he hasn’t even really had a hold of me. Not a proper hold. Where will I be then, if my mind is already consumed by the thought of him all over me, making love to me, his mouth touching every inch of my body? It’s the most vivid fantasy I’ve ever had. And the most dangerous. What’s worse, I know it will be as mind-blowing as I’m imagining it to be—so intense and overwhelming. I don’t even know him…yet I feel like I do.

  I look down at my wrist, lost in my thoughts. He told me he needed to touch me. I like it when Theo touches me. I hate it, but I like it. I sigh, so confused by it all, and especially confused by the man who is the source of my muddle. Everyone around me seems intimidated by Theo Kane, and I can’t figure out why I’m not. Not in that way. For the first time in my life, I am desperate to be intimate with a man for no other reason than…to just be intimate. My need to prove myself that I’m not broken isn’t featuring in my thoughts at all.

  “Shit, Izzy,” I breathe as I collect my drink and head back over to our sun lounger, spotting Jess at the bar with Denny and Kyle, laughing and slurping. I catch her eye, and as she makes a move to break away from the boys, I hold up my hand in indication that I’ll come to her. One sec, I mouth, and she nods, returning to her drink.

  I sit on the edge of the bed and pull out my phone, loading up Google and quickly typing in his name. It takes a few seconds to give me the results, and when it does, there’s nothing connected to the strapping, handsome man who’s infiltrated my girlie holiday. Not. One. Thing.

  I frown and spin the phone in my hand, thinking. Everyone appears on Google somewhere these days. Okay, so I don’t, but that’s because I’ve made a point not to put myself on any social media platform that could lead to Google results. Only someone hiding something wouldn’t appear online. So what’s he hiding?

  “Izzy!” Jess calls, snapping me from my silent pondering and waving me over. I smile and throw my phone back in my bag, standing and pulling off my caftan and slinging it on the lounger. He told me to cover up and I did, but not because he told me to. It’s been a long time since I feared repercussions from a man. Theo Kane won’t change that.

  Chapter 6

  We hung out with the boys for the rest of the day, Jess getting progressively closer—literally—to Kyle, while Denny was happy to laugh and mess around with me after he’d picked my brain about who Theo was and whether he should be worried. I’d laughed it off, but he must have sensed my conflict because he didn’t make a pass or push his luck the whole time we chatted and laughed in the sun. I was grateful. So were the few girls sunbathing nearby who Denny gave the eye a few times. The fact that I wasn’t bothered spoke volumes. I couldn’t think beyond Theo’s summons to dinner and whether I would be going, but I kept my frustrating debate to myself. When Jess had asked what went down with him, I’d given her a condensed version of the truth, and I neglected to mention Theo’s dinner request. We’ve saved forever and waited just as long to have this holiday. I feel bad enough that Theo has showed up and interrupted it. I won’t give Jess reason to believe it will be ruined beyond that. No dinner.

  No.

  Dinner.

  I make a conscious effort not to get totally wasted, sipping sensibly for the rest of the day. I need to keep my wits about me. Jess, however, doesn’t take it so easy. She’s well and truly pissed as we wander through the casino floor, heading for the elevators that’ll take us up to our room. It’s six thirty p.m., and the atmosphere around us is pumping.

  “I had the best day,” Jess slurs, punching the call button for the elevator. “Let’s shower and head out.”

  I laugh as we enter the lift. “You sure you don’t need a power nap?” I’m hoping it’s a resounding yes, because I’m feeling sluggish after a hard day sunbathing, socializing, and pretending I’m not in internal turmoil.

  “Hell no.” The doors close and carry us up to the twelfth floor. “If I sit down, I won’t get up again. Power through.” She raises her arm to cheer herself on, and then staggers back. I catch her just before she hits the wall.

  “We’ll head out at midnight.” I try to reason with her. If we go out now, I’ll be carrying her home by eleven. “Denny said things only get going then, anyway. Have a nap.”

  “No.” She’s adamant, leading the way when the doors open, zigzagging down the corridor. “No one sleeps in Vegas.”

  I smile with an exasperated shake of my head and take the key card from her fumbling fingers when she fails after three attempts to get it in the slot. “There.” I push the door open and let her go first before following her in. “I’m going to jump straight in the shower,” I call.

  “I’m going to find the Red Bull.”

  I close the bathroom door behind me and turn the temperature dial of the shower to cool, quickly stripping down and hopping in. I groan, letting the water rain all over me for a few relaxing moments before I wash my hair, shave, and scrub.

  I jump out and grab a towel. “All yours,” I say as I leave the bathroom, coming to a stop at the sight of Jess sprawled on the bed. My shoulders drop, and I heave a deep sigh. She’s unconscious and snoring lightly. “No one sleeps in Vegas,” I say to myself, pulling in my towel and settling on my bed, annoyed that I’m now more than awake after my shower. I flick on the television and scroll through the channels a few times, hoping tiredness will return soon and I can join Jess for a few hours’ sleep before we head out.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m still wide awake and getting quite pissed off about it. “Jess.” I shake her and get a few snorts in return. “Wake up.”

  Nothing. She’s out for the count.

  I growl to myself and flip onto my front, burying my face in the pillow. This isn’t good. I have nothing to focus on except the images in my head. Of him. “Damn it,” I mutter, glancing at the clock. Seven o’clock. I roll over and stare up at the ceiling, my thoughts speeding into overdrive.

  Just do it, I tell myself. Open your mind. I have two choices. Meet him, or stay here and drive myself mad thinking about him. I sit up abruptly, my eyes darting around the dim room. This is crazy, but no matter how hard I try to push him away, the bottom line is, I want to see him. For my sins, I want to see Theo Kane. Test him. Try to figure him out. Explore the insanely deep effect we seem to have on each other.

  I jump up before I can change my mind, and fly to the wardrobe, flicking through the hangers of clothes. After too much deliberation, I settle on a cream—probably too tight—cap-sleeved dress and some muted gold sandals. Keeping my foundation light, my green eyes heavy with smudged gray eyeliner, and my lips bare, I scrunch my waves into a tousled mess and run fingers coated in serum though the ends, giving it extra shine. I stand back from the mirror, chewing my lip, nervous as shit. But I have to do this. I’m going around in circles and Theo is following closely behind. Bite the bullet. Dip a toe. See what happens.

  I scribble a note for Jess in case she wakes up, telling her to call me when she rouses from the dead, and leave it on the bedside before heading for the door. I’ll be two hours, tops. Hopefully she won’t wake within that time and I can sneak back in. She’ll never know I went anywhere, eliminating my need to explain my reasoning for going.

  I spend the entire cab ride to the Bellagio going over that reasoning, shaking like a leaf, butterflies erupting in my tummy and going wild. I wander into the lobby, gazing around at the marble interior in awe. Trying to absorb the palatial foyer, I hover near reception, keeping a lookout for Theo’s driver. The area is busy, a constant stream of people coming in and out, gambling machines dinging and players cheering.

  “Miss White?”

  I turn to find Callum behind me. He’s his usual suited, ominous self, his blond hair looking lighter today, maybe from the sun. “Hi.”

  “I’ll
take you to Mr. Kane.” He points across the way, and I look, seeing he’s indicating toward the elevators.

  “Where is he?” I thought I’d be put in a car and taken to a restaurant, or maybe just walked to one in the hotel.

  “If you’ll come this way.” He takes the lead when I fail to, getting a few steps ahead before stopping and looking back at me where I’m rooted to the marble, beginning to worry. “Miss White?”

  “You’re taking me to his room, aren’t you?”

  He looks at me with definite unease. He thinks I’m going to refuse and be difficult, and I can see he’s bracing himself for it. “Mr. Kane has a suite.”

  “A suite?”

  “Yes, a suite. Not a room, but many rooms.”

  If I didn’t know him better, I’d say he was laughing at me. Many rooms, including a bedroom. “I see.” I fiddle with my purse, glancing at the elevator again.

  “You’re having dinner with him in his private suite.”

  I ignore the fact that he’s just told me what I’m doing and look at him cautiously. “Private?”

  He nods, joining his hands in front of his big body. “Ready?”

  I raise my chin and straighten my back. “Yes.” I pass him, flicking him a curious look when he steps back, even though I’m making a point to keep a comfortable distance from him. I come to a stop at the collection of elevators. “Is there a written rule that says you have to be a huge motherfucker to work for Theo?” I ask as I step into a lift and peek up at him.

  There’s a definite curved lip threatening to break out as he presses the button to Theo’s floor. “We’re more friends than work associates.”

  “You are?” I ask, surprised. “I thought you were his driver. Or his bodyguard.”

  “I’m both of those, too.” He looks down at me. “But more the latter.”

  I tilt my head in question. “Why? Does someone want to hurt him?” I’m digging for information, and I’m not the least bit ashamed.