by Reed, Autumn
I arrived at the casino lounge early enough to stake out a spot at the bar where I could easily watch my guests enter without being seen. Figuring a little liquid courage wouldn’t hurt, I ordered a drink and slipped the bartender a generous tip once she agreed to my plan. Now all I had to do was wait for them to show. Shane promised that all three would be there; I just hoped that no one decided to back out.
The minutes ticked by slowly, my tension rising every time someone walked through the door. Am I doing the right thing? I wondered. Maybe I should talk to them instead of making it into a production. But, then I thought about the chemistry that sparked between me and Cole whenever we looked at each other or our skin touched. I remembered that incredibly gentle, sensual kiss I shared with Nicholas and the way Shane somehow charmed me to my toes. Was it all a lie? I needed to know.
Catching sight of three tall figures in tailored suits being seated at the table I reserved, I took a deep breath. Showtime. I nodded at the bartender, and she peered at the table in question before giving me a wink. She quickly mixed three blood red cocktails, then placed them on a small tray and meandered over to Nicholas, Shane, and Cole.
I could only see Cole’s face from my vantage point and watched as his bright smile transformed to one of confusion. It was entirely possible that he wasn’t all that amused by the drink name I’d concocted. Personally, I thought Lying Bastards should be added to menus around the city. They would undoubtedly be popular with scorned women, and in Vegas, there were plenty of those.
When the bartender-turned-temporary waitress returned to her spot behind the bar, I stood and squared my shoulders, as if preparing for battle. I can do this, I breathed. As I stalked to the other side of the lounge, the other patrons seemed to fade away until all I could see was the three men I’d stupidly allowed myself to begin falling for. They looked polished and annoyingly handsome in their business suits, making my determination falter for a step or two before I recaptured my resolve.
This is it.
“Fancy running into you boys here,” I drawled with exaggerated politeness.
Three heads snapped up in such complete synchronicity that I almost laughed. I glanced at each of them, trying to catch their initial reactions to my presence. Cole’s face was comical, his eyes wide and mouth rounded in an O-shape. Nicholas looked pensive, his lips pressed together and brows drawn. And, Shane’s face was blank of all expression, like he had immediately withdrawn, shutting down his emotions.
I placed a hand on one hip and popped it to the side, hoping to accentuate my appearance as much as possible. Perhaps it was foolish, but I was relying on my perfectly executed makeup, hair, and clothing to give me enough confidence to get through this charade.
“Well, aren’t you going to invite me to join you?”
Cole jumped up and pulled out the empty chair. “Please.” He gave the other guys a nervous look. “We’re expecting someone, so I’m not sure how long—”
“No, we’re not,” Shane interrupted.
“What?” Cole asked.
“We’re not expecting anyone else. Are we, Miss Klein?”
I gave him an innocent smile. “Right you are, Mr. Oliver,” I replied in the same phony accent I’d used on the phone as Dark Angel’s assistant.
“Quite the setup you organized.” He gestured to the red cocktail in front of him. “I’m guessing the drinks are from you, as well?”
“Indeed. What do you think? Do I have a future career as a mixologist? It’s my own recipe.”
“Too sweet for me, I’m afraid.”
“Shoot. There goes my dream to capitalize on Lying Bastards.”
“Emma.” Nicholas’s voice was strained and his eyes pleading. “Whatever you think is going on—”
“Now, now. I can tell that you’re planning on lying to me, again. So, instead, why don’t I describe what I know is going on and you just nod that pretty head to let me know I’m right?”
Without giving him a chance to respond, I continued, every word spoken in a matter-of-fact tone. “The three of you were lounging around your fancy VIP room talking about how bored you are now that you’ve accomplished your goal of opening a successful club before turning twenty-five. So, you decided to make one of your notorious bets where the winner receives some totally extravagant prize. All you needed was a naive girl to work your magic on. Am I on the right track?”
I turned my attention to Cole, knowing he was the one most likely to give away his thoughts. His sheepish expression told me I was, indeed, on the right track.
“The only thing I’m unsure of is the terms of this bet. The first of you to kiss me? That can’t be it, since I’ve already kissed two-thirds of you. Oh, I know. The first one to convince me to accept a lavish gift. Wait, no, not that either.” I stared at each of them for a long moment before saying bluntly, “The first to fuck me?” Nicholas’s gaze fell to the table and Cole’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I relaxed slightly in my chair, relieved that I made it through the main points of the speech I’d prepared. Although I went into the confrontation believing that they had bet on who would be the first to get me in bed, I couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment washing over me. I hated that I liked them all so much and it was nothing but a farce.
“Will you give us a chance to explain?” Shane asked quietly.
“Go for it.”
“It was a stupid bet that went too far. We never meant to hurt you.”
Well, that wasn’t great as far as explanations or apologies went, but did I honestly expect anything more?
“Why me?” I asked in an almost-whisper.
“Are you kidding?” Cole responded immediately. “I meant what I said the night we met. You were, are, stunning.”
“He's right,” Shane agreed. “We don't even have the same taste in women, but none of us could take our eyes off you from the moment you walked into the club.”
“Still can't,” Nicholas murmured.
My pulse thrummed as I searched their eyes for deception, but all I found was sincerity. It doesn't matter, I told myself. I needed to get the hell out of there before I ended up surrendering to them once again.
Standing, I said, “Sorry, boys. You’ll have to find a new target for your little wager. Merry Christmas.”
I turned and walked away, my head held high. Cole Reid, Shane Oliver, and Nicholas Hayes would be tough acts to follow, but I didn’t deserve to be the subject of a bet, despite suspecting foul play all along. It was fun while it lasted, and now it was over. That was that.
“Emma! Emma!”
I hesitated, not wanting to face Nicholas but knowing I couldn’t outrun him, especially in these ridiculous heels.
“Yes?”
He blew out a loud breath. “I’m sorry. There’s no excuse, but we made the bet before getting to know you and we regret it now.”
The candor behind the words told me he meant them, and I couldn’t help but allow my lips to turn up a little in response. “Thank you. I appreciate that, but I want to go home now.”
He opened his mouth to argue but must have thought better of it, because he gave me a sad smile and nodded. “Merry Christmas, Cinderella.”
“Goodbye, Nicholas.”
Chapter 8
I checked the time on my e-reader, disappointed to see that the flight was coming to an end. Part of me wished I was flying to Australia instead. At least then I could avoid my mother for another, oh, sixteen hours or so.
Not that I needed all that time to keep obsessing over what happened two nights ago. Was I crazy for feeling a little guilty about how I left things? They were the ones who were using me, after all. On the other hand, I went into the dates knowing something suspicious was going on. Not to mention the whole dating three guys at the same time thing. Didn’t exactly leave me standing on high moral ground.
The vindictive voice inside my head urged me to publish a story exposing the three friends and somehow pretend that w
as my sole purpose for getting to know them all along. But, I knew I couldn’t go through with it. In spite of myself, I liked them way too much to pull that kind of bitchy move. And, thinking of the defeated look on Nicholas’s face when he tried to stop me from leaving the casino, I wondered if some of it was real, even for them.
When the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, I told myself, Enough. As soon as I landed in Indiana, I was putting Vegas behind me. I would focus all my energy on surviving my mother and forget all about my sexy not-quite-exes. Yeah, right. And Rudolph really leads Santa’s sleigh.
While I waited for my suitcase to appear in baggage claim, I felt someone tug on the back of my hair. I turned around to find my little brother grinning at me. Not that he was so little anymore, standing nearly six inches above my five-foot-five stature.
“Chris!” I said happily, looking behind him to search out our parents. When I didn’t find them, I gave him a wide smile and a hug. “Please tell me you’re alone.”
He laughed. “It’s your lucky day. Dad got caught up at work, and Mom had some kind of last-minute-Christmas-shopping emergency.”
“Thank god,” I replied, pulling my suitcase off the conveyor belt. All week, I had been dreading the hour-long drive trapped in the car with my mother. “Lead the way, chauffeur.”
“Does this mean you’re going to sit in the back and make me open doors for you?”
I stuck my nose in the air, adopting an imperious tone. “Of course. You may carry my bag as well.”
Chris grunted but easily picked up my heavy carry-on. “What do you have in here?” he whined. “You’re only going to be home for a few days.”
“Oh, you know, just my laptop and a few textbooks.”
“A few?” His tone sounded doubtful. “And, why? Your next semester doesn’t start for weeks.”
“It never hurts to work ahead.”
He shook his head sadly. “You have a problem.”
“Shut up.” I slapped his arm, surprised when my hand stung from the impact. “Sheesh, have you been working out or something?”
“Only for years now. If you came home more often, you might have noticed.”
I studied my brother and realized how much he truly had grown up. His blond hair, the exact shade as mine, was a little longer than the last time I saw him, but the cut was stylish and made him look more mature. His shoulders and chest had filled out, finally catching up to his height. Due to our four-year age difference, we’d never been particularly close. But, maybe it was time to remedy that.
Suddenly regretting my bad attitude about visiting Indiana, I said, “I could come home more often . . . or, you could visit me in Vegas now that you’re officially an adult. Spring break, perhaps?”
“Really?” His eyes lit up. “Will you help me get a fake ID?”
“Whoa, whoa. I’m not quite that cool. Plus, there are plenty of eighteen-and-over clubs.”
“Okay, fine, I accept,” Chris said as he loaded my luggage in his car. “Not that Mom will ever agree.”
“Let me worry about Mom.”
During the drive, Chris caught me up on the first half of his senior year, including a recent break-up and his plans to “play the field” for a while. When we reached the entrance to our parents’ subdivision, my anxiety kicked up a notch. Here goes nothing.
“Oh, yeah, I meant to tell you,” Chris said with a sympathetic smile as he pulled into the driveway. “I overheard Mom talking to Dad about you and Matt. It sounds like she’s determined to get the two of you back together.”
“Great,” I muttered. Not that I was surprised. Not. One. Bit.
“Emma!” My mother came out of the house to meet us looking perfectly put-together, as always, in neatly-pressed slacks and a festive green cardigan.
“Hello, Mom.”
She gave me a light hug, then looked me up and down, no doubt observing my jeans, hoodie, and sneakers with disgust. “That must have been quite an early flight. You look positively haggard.”
I rolled my eyes at Chris. “Only if you call getting up before five early.”
She ignored me and turned her attention to her son. “Christopher, bring your sister’s luggage into the house. Hopefully you remember where her room is, considering it’s been so long since she was home.”
Dig number two in less than a minute. Might be a new record.
“Come on,” she said to me. “Help put lunch on the table. Your father should be home any minute.”
I followed her into the house, letting the scent of evergreen and the sight of familiar decorations put me in the holiday spirit. As much as my mother irritated me, I still enjoyed the nostalgic feeling of being home for Christmas. The modest two-story home hadn’t changed much over the years, and I tried not to cringe at some of the framed family portraits on the wall leading up the stairs.
Surprisingly, the afternoon passed without Mom mentioning Matt or my plans after graduation. Instead, she asked questions about school and the paper and got Dad talking about his company’s annual holiday party. I was suspicious but grateful for the reprieve, even if it was temporary.
When I finally had a few minutes to myself, I checked my cell. There were missed calls from Cole and Nicholas and text messages from all three guys. I deleted the messages without reading them—as I’d done with every one they’d sent since the confrontation—then opened a text from Simone.
Simone: Hey, girl. You commit matricide yet?
Me: Not yet.
Simone: That’s a relief. You’re too pretty for prison.
Simone: Did the heat ever get turned back on in your apartment?
I flinched. It was time to come clean.
Me: Yeah, about that. I might have fibbed about my reason for needing your apartment.
Simone: If you had sex on my bed, you’re doing my laundry for a month.
I sputtered out a laugh. Only Simone.
Me: Um, no. It wasn’t that.
Simone: What, then? Spill!
Me: It’s a long story . . .
I had barely hit “send” when my phone started ringing. “Hi, Simone.”
“What’s going on?”
Might as well get this over with. “Do you remember that guy who invited us to the VIP room at Loft25?”
“Cole, right?”
“Yes. Then, there was the guy I told you about who stopped me when we were leaving.”
“Prince Charming?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Anyway, I didn’t tell you, but I met and danced with a third guy that night.”
“Damn, girl.”
“I know.”
I went on to explain everything that happened at Loft25, discovering the next day that Shane, Cole, and Nicholas owned the club, and the dates with each of them. And, then I described the scene at the casino lounge.
Simone whistled. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Which part?”
“Honestly, any of it, but especially posing as Dark Angel’s assistant . . . and the drinks. Lying bastards.” She laughed. “That was brilliant.”
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Thanks.”
“What now?”
“What do you mean? It’s over.”
“Are you sure about that?”
No. “Yes. I was a bet, Simone! It’s demeaning and kind of humiliating.”
“Calm down. I’m not disagreeing with you about that. But . . .”
“But?” I asked impatiently when her pause went on for too long.
“I think maybe you’re into these guys.”
“Well, yeah, they’re sexy as hell.”
“Nope, I’m not buying it. I’ve seen you get hit on by plenty of sexy guys and not even give them a second glance.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t think you’re okay with it being over.”
I groaned in frustration. “I only went on one date with each of them! It’s not like we were even really involved.”
“Yet, you had two of
the best kisses of your life—your words, not mine. Don’t you think that means something?”
“Did you not hear the sexy as hell part?”
“Fine, I’ll let it go for now. But, I’ll bet you my favorite Kate Spade clutch that it’s not over between you and the triple triple threats.”
“No! No more bets. And, ‘the triple triple threats’? Seriously?”
Simone laughed. “Yeah, one hot, smart, and rich guy times three. Gotta go. Love ya!”
I slumped back against my headboard. So much for leaving all thoughts of my sexy exes in Vegas.
* * *
“It’s nice to have you home, Em.” My dad hugged me to his side as we exited the grocery store, our last errand of the afternoon.
“Thanks, Dad. I missed you too.”
“Your mother’s not driving you crazy, is she?”
“So far so good, but I have a feeling she’s up to something.”
“That woman is almost always up to something,” he said, and we both laughed.
I tried to read Dad’s face for clues, but he merely shrugged in response. My dad, much as I loved him, always bent to her wishes. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like if he stuck up for me more.
Dad carried the groceries into the house while I attempted to slip upstairs unnoticed. My hand had just grazed the banister when my mother called my name. Maybe if I didn’t respond, she would give up and leave me alone for a little while?
“Emma,” she called again. So much for that idea, I thought.
“Did you need something?” I called.
“Come say hello to your guest,” she said cheerfully.
My guest? Please don’t be Matt. Please don’t be Matt. Please don’t be Matt, I chanted in my head, my agitation mounting with each step.
Rounding the corner to the kitchen, I came face-to-face with a scene I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams. Shane and my mother sat at the table drinking coffee, both appearing at ease. Am I hallucinating? Maybe that peppermint mocha I had earlier was laced with something?