Jace tried stalling. He only needed a few more hours, and the negatives wouldn’t even exist. “I told you when we spoke last night no cameras would be allowed in the club when you’re expected.”
Stone waved that off, pacing the bungalow, which seemed small compared to his long strides. “Except he seems to believe someone took my picture from the roof of the hotel. Days ago. Did you know about this? Because Hayes here assures me you have it under control.”
Jace glanced at Hayes, whose name he’d forgotten again. Didn’t matter—he wouldn’t be working here much longer, not once Jace had those negatives and the situation was handled. Anger rushed through Jace like a bullet. This was far too sensitive a conversation for someone with a loose tongue. “Get out.”
The idiot kid lit out. Standing to his full height, Jace looked Stone head-on. “It’s true.”
Stone let out a string of curses, imaginative ones that would’ve left Jace impressed if the situation wasn’t so serious. “I guess you’d better tell me, Russell. All of it.”
Jace took a seat and waited until Stone stopped prowling the room and sat as well. After a second, Stone dug a twenty out of his wallet and held it up to his constant companion. “Go get some smokes, Rob.”
When they were alone, Jace explained about finding Layla on the roof and tracking her down. And that she’d inadvertently taken some compromising shots.
Stone pondered the—even to Jace—outlandish story for a moment. “Is she going to sell them? You should’ve come to me. It’ll take me a day or two to get money like that together.”
“No, she’s not publishing or selling.”
“I thought you said she got a good shot or two of me and Rob.”
That was the closest Jace had ever heard Stone come to admitting he was in a romantic relationship with his bodyguard. Jace knew, of course, but it just wasn’t something anyone spoke of. For the man to come out and say it indicated how desperate Stone felt the situation was.
“Tell me what she wants in exchange,” Stone demanded.
“I’ll have them tonight. I’ll bring the negatives, and you can destroy them yourself.”
“Why don’t you already have them if she’s willing to part with them and doesn’t want money? How can you be sure she isn’t stringing you along?”
Damn, Stone was smart for a celeb, and he was asking all the hard questions. “She needed a series of favors from me, which will be completed tonight. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Mr. Stone.”
“This is shit.” A vein pulsed in Stone’s forehead. God, Jace could kiss any future in Vegas goodbye, right now.
“I know. I wanted to handle it without you worrying.”
Stone began pacing the bungalow again—a few steps one way, a few the other, repeat. Finally, he said, “Where is she? I want to meet her.”
“No, that’s a bad idea.” First time in his career he’d spoken without weighing his words, and he waited for the fallout.
“It’s not a request, buddy. Not unless you want me to take this to your bosses.”
Jace almost choked on the relief. Stone would let him run with this, try to work it out. Then it dawned on him that the only way that happened was if he took Stone to see Layla. Who probably wanted to never see his stupid face again.
“All right.” Jace stood and checked to be sure he had his keys with the master in his jacket pocket. “But, listen, she’s a little upset with me.”
“You pissed her off? Are you trying to kill me here?”
“Of course not. It’s a complicated situation.”
“You shagged her? Come on, Russell.”
“No! It’s not that.”
“She wants you to shag her? Because I know your type is usually considered beautiful, but couldn’t you just grit your teeth? How different are they in the dark?”
Jace blinked at Stone, at a loss for words. He couldn’t believe the turn this had taken. “Let’s just leave it at complicated. But she’s got a temper, and I’m her least favorite person today.”
The two of them crossed through the lobby of the hotel, and Jace considered his options. Smart money would be on calling her first to let her know they were coming. Except she wasn’t speaking to him. Easier to take the master and try to talk sense to her. He’d stick Stone on the terrace while he convinced her how desperately he needed her to cooperate.
Layla awoke before the sun rose. She called down to room service—let Jace pay for it all, he was so willing—and ordered a pot of coffee and a Danish to be brought up. She removed the chair and answered the door with the warm blanket from the bed wrapped over her underclothes.
Once the bellhop had set the tray on the terrace as she requested, she apologized for not having any cash to tip him. “Can you put it on the room bill, caro?”
“As long as you sign for it, miss.” He indicated the ticket on her tray.
“Then I’m feeling very generous today, er…what’s your name?”
“Liam, miss.”
“Very generous, Liam. You have a good morning then.”
Liam backed away, all the way to the door, then scurried out. Layla carried some of the bed pillows out onto the terrace and piled them up to create a nest, of sorts, on the concrete. She sat down on the cool terrace, pulling the blanket around her, and lay back to watch the sky turn from black to purple to pink. Then she had her coffee and Danish, cuddled up on the floor as the sky tinted blue. She knew her heart would be wretchedly sad later; right now, she was too busy being mad. Ooh, the nerve of him, asking her to be his mistress.
She snorted at the idea. ‘A relationship,’ he’d said. What sort of relationship was that? An utterly one-sided one. As one-sided as their lovemaking last night. Oh, he was so smart. Pulling her in with his obvious caring, generous loving, and then proposing an affair in which he had all the power. She wasn’t the only one a little off-kilter in this “relationship.”
Just then the door handle to her suite jiggled. She pulled the blanket tighter around her and tried to decide what one should do if one’s hotel room was broken into. Especially in such scant clothing. Scream, she supposed.
Of course, Jace and his master key could be making a return. If that were the case, maybe he’d think she left early, and she could avoid him altogether. She’d stay quiet and see how it played out. When the door opened, Jace entered cautiously. Oh, he was unbelievable. He scanned the room, probably worried she’d throw something at him. A man in evening finery followed him into the suite. As he’d said last night, there was certainly no point in calling security.
Layla blinked and squinted her eyes for a better look. Oh, hell. That wasn’t just a man; he was the man from the photo-session on the roof. She couldn’t imagine what she’d possibly say to this poor guy who’d become a pawn in her bid to outwit her mother. Guilt washed over her like a great tidal wave. That poor man. All he’d done was passionately kiss someone he loved without ever thinking another person could be watching.
She’d caught them at the beginning of making love, putting her camera down once she realized what she was seeing. She’d been on the roof long enough to tell it was no random tryst. Wrapped in a blanket and stretched across the terrace floor, she knew they couldn’t see her. Maybe she wouldn’t have to come face-to-face with the man whose life she could ruin. She wouldn’t, but he didn’t know that, didn’t know the kind of person she was.
Her relief was short-lived when they headed her way, chatting in low voices. It wasn’t until Jace opened the glass door that she understood the gist of it.
“Just wait out here; let me talk to her. We had a little disagreement, and she’s really big. Like her emotions, her reactions—big,” Jace told Mr. Stone.
“You’re sure shagging her won’t solve the problem?”
Layla’s mouth gaped open at Mr. Stone’s suggestion. Who the hell did he think she was?
“Pretty sure,” Jace said.
“Maybe I can persuade her.” Fat chance after the shagging comment.
>
Jace put a reassuring hand on Mr. Stone’s shoulder. “She doesn’t need persuading. I told you, she gave me her word, and I trust her.”
Layla scooted up, leaning her back against the bars of the terrace, and watched them, just inside the room. She was beginning to wonder if they’d notice her at all. On one hand, she was sitting here in her panties and bra, wrapped in a blanket, and Jace had traipsed into her room with a famous Hollywood player. Plus, she still wanted to throw things at his head.
But on the other, he’d put his own reputation at stake—telling Mr. Stone, who obviously knew about the negatives, he trusted her. That went a long way in winning him some goodwill.
Mr. Stone apparently noticed her then because he stopped arguing with Jace and faced her. “The photographer, I presume.”
“Layla Rosas. I’d shake your hand, but I’m not entirely sure I can stand without flashing everyone.”
Jace looked between the two of them and muttered, “Oh, Jesus.”
Glaring at him, Layla said, “You should’ve called first.”
“You were so mad.”
“I’m still mad. And, sorry, ‘shagging me’ won’t help. That’s part of the problem.”
Mr. Stone sighed. “I knew sex came in somewhere. It always does.”
Gathering what little dignity she had left, she pulled her blanket tighter, ignored Jace, and spoke directly to Mr. Stone. “Mr. Russell may be a fessacchione, but he’s handled this with your best interests in mind the whole time. How can I make this go away for him?”
“Layla—” Jace began before she cut him off.
“Shut up. I still want to castrate you. I’m just doing what’s right.”
“He says you have compromising photos of me,” Mr. Stone said.
“Negatives. The photos were never developed.”
“Even better. How do I get those back?”
“You don’t.” She shook her head. “Mr. Russell has to continue his pretense as the love of my life until after dinner tonight. The negatives are his then, free and clear.”
With an appraising look, Mr. Stone asked Jace, “Are you up to this?” His gaze switched to Layla. “I could do it, love. I’ve been told my acting isn’t too bad.”
“My family would notice a last-minute replacement, unfortunately.”
“Come here.” He held a hand out to her, which in no way would help her rise gracefully. She ignored his hand, tightened the blanket, and hoped for the best as she struggled to stand.
Jace took her elbow and lifted her to her feet. She looked at his hand on her until he removed it. His touch made her remember her heart was hurt, and she couldn’t think about that until tomorrow.
Because the blanket wrapped around her to her ankles, Layla’s strides were awkward and short. It took her a moment to reach Mr. Stone. He engulfed her hands in his, forcing her to sort of clamp her arms down over the blanket, and studied her until she became uncomfortable. “You have a kind soul, Layla. I can trust you until tonight.”
“I hope you have more thorough methods of deciding who to trust. Take it from someone who has been taken advantage of—terrible people can be utterly believable.”
“You could’ve sold those negatives days ago. Made some decent money and ruined my life. I think my judgment is pretty on target here. Can I do anything to repay your kindness?”
“You owe me absolutely nothing. If you could continue to make sure Jace’s reputation for his discretion remains untarnished, I’d appreciate it.”
“Fair enough,” Mr. Stone said, then proceeded to kiss one hand, then the other, leaving Layla scrambling to keep her blanket in place. “I’ll leave you two alone. You seem to have unfinished affairs.”
“It was nice to meet you. Even without most of my clothing.”
Mr. Stone laughed, then showed himself out. Layla looked out at the desert, at the concrete floor—finally warming up—and at her half-empty coffee cup.
Jace cleared his throat. “I appreciate you going to bat for me, doll.”
“Go to hell.” Layla gathered her blanket and made her way inside. “I told you not to call me ‘doll.’” She had to stay mad, she just had to. If she didn’t, she’d talk herself into moving into that apartment, waiting for him to come see her. No way could that be good for her. She’d made herself a promise.
“I’m sorry about last night; I didn’t mean for what I said to come out that way.”
She searched the bathroom for her clothes and began pulling them on, ignoring the stinging in her hands. “You didn’t get my meaning. You misunderstood me. I heard you loud and clear.”
“Would you stop moving for a second? What did I misunderstand?”
“Oh, hell! Where are my shoes? When I said I wouldn’t let myself be used or hurt—”
“Stop for a minute.” Jace took her by the arms, holding her still. “I never want to hurt you. That’s what I’m trying to say. I wouldn’t see anyone else as long as we were together, and if I felt like I needed to, I’d tell you. Be completely honest. I’d make sure you were taken care of when we parted ways. But, Layla, I need you, and I’ve never needed anyone.”
Tears tickled her throat, and she swallowed several times before she let herself speak. “When I said those things, I meant I promised myself I wouldn’t take a lover again until he’d committed himself to love and honor me. Until we’re married. So, obviously, that won’t ever include you. Do you understand me now, tesoro?”
“You would throw this away because it doesn’t come with a goddamned ring? And why do you have to keep peppering your conversation with Italian? It’s infuriating.”
“Please let go of me.” When he removed his hands, she sat down on the bed where her shoes peeked out from under the sheets on the floor. She swiped a tear away while she pulled the sandals on. “I’ve been too hurt, too used, and too mistreated to settle for anything less and keep the self-respect I’ve worked so hard for. Are we done?”
Jace rubbed the back of his neck absently. “You’re asking for the one thing I can’t give.”
“Oh, I’m not asking. That’s just a bit of information because you need an explanation. I don’t want it if I have to beg for it.” Her words were so much tougher than she felt. She’d break soon, crying at best, who knew what else? She had to get him out of here. “Are we done?”
“Yeah,” he whispered before turning and leaving.
Layla pulled her legs up to hug them to her chest, rocking back and forth, and let the tears burst free.
12
Layla called down to the concierge service to ask them to bring her a brush, hairspray, toothbrush, lipstick and mascara, and some clean clothes. She knew it was excessive. She knew Jace would have to pay for it. She also knew that was both petty and satisfying.
There was no win for her in this situation. She might prevent her parents from putting her away, but she couldn’t ignore she’d foolishly, completely fallen for Jace. Even when he made her angry, she wanted to kiss him until the world settled into place again. If she failed, then she’d be institutionalized and heartbroken.
By the time she’d showered, done her face and hair, and dressed, it was close to noon. She called and asked for Jace’s office, and his secretary told her he was in. She took a few slow breaths to prepare herself to see him again.
A problem loomed large in Layla’s plans for dinner. Her father was much sharper than her mother and her mother’s friends. And in the last twenty-four hours, while she and Jace had done a lot of arguing and plenty of kissing and touching, they had not discussed the dinner with her family.
Now, she tossed her old clothes in the paper bag they’d brought all her things in and carried it with her down to Jace’s office.
Once again, she waited outside. After a brief moment, his secretary looked up at her. “You can go on in now, Ms. Rosas.”
She shut the door behind her and clutched the paper bag against her, like a shield. “This is becoming incredibly complicated.”
He ex
haled loudly. His eyes were bloodshot, and little lines had settled into his face. “What do you want?”
“You look tired.” Layla took a tentative step forward.
“That’s not what you want. What do you want?”
“I need to tell you about tonight.” He didn’t say anything, just continued to look at her. It almost seemed like he was looking through her, trying not to see her at all. She swallowed the lump in her throat and went on. “Well, dinner is at eight. Don’t be late, or you’ll get a lecture on respect from my father.”
He crossed his arms. “Have I ever been late? You’re the one who is perpetually unreliable.”
“Guess that’s why I know about the lecture. Um…wear a suit. Which, you always do that, too.” Layla put the brown bag on the floor and sat down in the chair across from his desk. “I guess I’m putting off the hard stuff. You’ll have to kiss me. Not a long, passionate kiss. He’d find it disrespectful. And not a peck. It would make him suspicious. A familiar, loving kiss. Do you know what I mean?”
“Sure.” He came around the desk, leaned down, and seized her mouth, but only for a few seconds. A brief, but clear, invitation for more. “That about right?”
She had to tamp down the love and desire, all tangled together now, that crashed through her in response. She’d thought she would have more time to prepare herself for his kisses. “Maybe a little less…fervor.”
Layla put her head down and stared at her lap. Everything in her wanted only him. He’d make her happy, she knew it. At least, until he got tired of her, and he’d already said he would. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she forced them back. No leaking. She had to be strong. When she looked up, he was leaning on his desk. She said, “We’ll have to hold hands or put your arm around me. It has to look natural. But respectful.
“He doesn’t have to just believe us. He has to approve of you. Be yourself, that will be fine, except don’t tell him your views on marriage. And he’s going to ask your intentions. Just tell him…that we’re very serious, and we’re discussing how to move forward. That way, when you disappear, I can tell him it didn’t work out.”
My Fake Vegas Boyfriend Page 10