Ruin Me: Vegas Knights

by Bella Love-Wins

  The three of us.

  Sharing a moment.

  We were a family whether the father wanted to be with us or not.

  I still couldn’t believe it was happening. Finally, I was speaking to Mac after months of trying to reach out to him. And to think he called me out of the blue like this. A text was what I thought I’d get from him first, to soften the blow of a live conversation. One that was sure to be strained, stressful and thoroughly unpredictable. But he called—finally. That was something in itself.

  Progress.

  “It’s Mac.” A statement rather than a question.

  His voice was unique and deep down, I knew exactly who was on the other end of the line before he identified himself.

  “Hello Mac,” I replied.

  “Angel. I just found out you’ve been trying to get a hold of me.” He paused a moment, then added, “I guess we should’ve exchanged phone numbers.”

  “Yes. I suppose so. I assume you read my letters?”

  We were being so polite. I didn’t want to be polite. There were moments where I was thinking, It took you long enough to call, you big jerk! Two months. Two whole frigging months since I sent him the first letter. Because for almost another two months on top of that, after learning I was pregnant, I wasn’t sure I’d reach out to him at all. I flip-flopped for a long time on whether or not to involve him. Because I was the one who had a wild night in Vegas and ended up knocked up by a guy I never thought I’d see again. But eventually, I decided he deserved to at least know I was pregnant by him. And he never replied—up until now.

  All this time, I just figured my letters went unanswered because of how I was forced to address them. I didn’t know his full name. Wild night, for real. All I had was Mac, and that he worked at the hotel. For all I knew, Mac wasn’t his real first name at all. But find out now that he received the letters and took two whole months to get back to me? That got my blood boiling.

  “Actually…” his voice sounded rueful and frustrated. “I’m just now getting your letters.”

  “What? Like today?”

  “Like fifteen minutes ago.” There was a hitch in his voice. “There was a mix-up. I’m sorry about that.”

  The honest emotion surprised me. “Really?”

  “The team around me is really protective. I’m sure you can understand. They held on to your letters without bringing me into the loop, and worked with my legal team to communicate with your lawyer. He’s the one your law firm has been dealing with. Trust me, I know. It’s unacceptable. I’m dealing with them.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “I’d like you to come to Las Vegas, if you’re able to. If not, I can come to you. It’ll just take a few weeks before I can arrange it. I’d say it’s time we talked. Face to face.”

  Seeing as how I was almost four months pregnant with his baby, yeah, talking seemed like a good idea. With Christmas break coming up, it was easy enough for me to arrange some time off.

  “Sure. I’ll fly to you after school lets out for the holidays.” That gave me up to three weeks to reconnect with the father of my child after this debacle.

  I wasn’t sure whether or not I’d end up spending the entire time there. Maybe he just wanted a face to face meeting to tie up loose ends and break the bad news that he wanted no part of this child’s life, and that was that. So, one day or three weeks really depended on the direction our first meeting would take.

  “Sounds great… How are you feeling?”

  Concern. That was promising. Though he could’ve just asked to be polite.

  “The first month or so was tough on me,” I admitted, a slight quiver of nervousness in my voice. “But I’m a lot better now. The baby’s healthy so far. Growing fast. And very active. She’s been kicking all day today. Or he. I still don’t know the baby’s gender. I think I want to keep it a surprise.”

  “Wow. Well, that’s great. I’m glad to hear she’s healthy. Or he.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So… do you need anything at all? From me? On the interim, I mean. We can talk about everything else when we meet in person.”

  “Of course. And no. I’m fine. We’re doing okay.”

  “Let me know if that changes.”

  “It won’t. But I will if something comes up from way out in left field.”

  “Thanks.”

  The line was silent for a few seconds. What else were we supposed to talk about? I couldn’t think of anything. “Well, if we’re going to meet, I should let you go now. I’m relieved that you called.”

  “Me too. Again, I’m sorry it had to take this long. The last thing I wanted was to leave you hanging like that.”

  “Thanks. Take care, Mac.”

  “See you soon.”

  I hung up the phone with almost as many questions as I had before I heard Mac’s voice. But at least we were talking. And he sounded sincere. That was something. Still, it was really just the beginning. So much was left for us to figure out.

  Then, of course, there was the issue of Mom and Dad. They were anxious for me to come home so we could repeat our Christmas tradition as usual.

  And I needed to tell them about the baby.

  Bump kicked again.

  “You need to calm down in there,” I whispered. “You’re going to meet your daddy after all. Well, you’ll be in the same room with him at least once in your prenatal life.”

  Then there was this job here in Mexico City.

  I knew several of the staff at the school had suspicions about what was going on although none of them had come right out and said anything to me. Lupita was the only one who knew for sure. They’d find out sooner or later.

  What I really needed was to have something to tell my parents.

  And I needed a plan.

  I could keep working until early May if all went smoothly with the pregnancy, but that was still a little over five months off. Essentially, I was due around the time school let out. Could I keep teaching right up until then? Did I want to continue in this job, in this country, right up until the very end of my term? Was it a good idea if, for some unexpected reason, Bump was born here instead of back in Canada?

  Up to this point, I had no idea.

  I was unsure about a lot of things, like what Mac wanted. The phone call was polite, amicable, but business-like. Sure, I wasn’t expecting him to drop everything and declare his undying love for me and Bump in our first phone call. Not after an unplanned pregnancy that came out of a one-night stand with a complete stranger, no matter how strong our connection was that night. But maybe I expected something. A sign, perhaps. Something to take away all the uncertainty I was dealing with on my own.

  I tried to calm my nerves. It was getting more difficult.

  Three Weeks Later

  I flew into LAX this morning.

  Thanks to the rather sleepless night I’d had, I was exhausted.

  Because I arrived at Mexico City International Airport a few hours ahead of schedule, I accepted the airline’s invitation to board an earlier than planned flight that had a few vacant seats. It was getting to the point in my pregnancy where I rather enjoyed sleeping, so I took them up on their offer to avoid sitting for hours in those punishing plastic seats at airports. I’d told Mac on my drive from LAX that it was fine if he wanted to meet with me later on in the day.

  The bellman dropped off my bags in the room I reserved, and after that, he led me up to Mac’s suite. Mac was out, but I was told to wait for him there, that he’d be up shortly. So, this extra wait time in his hotel was my doing—or rather, the airline’s.

  But now I couldn’t just fall asleep in his place. I wished he’d get here. To say I was going crazy inside these four walls was an understatement.

  Pausing beside a desk that looked like it had been carved from one huge chunk of granite, I picked up a decorative crystal ball knick knack and passed it from one hand to the other. It reflected the light back at me, mesmerizing me in a way. It reminded me of that thing David Bowie used in the movie wit
h the goblins and the girl. What was it called again? As I had time on my hands, I did a quick Google search on my phone. Oh, right. Labyrinth. When I was younger, that used to be one of my favorite movies.

  I rubbed my belly with one hand while still rotating the crystal ball in the other. “We’ll watch it together when you’re older,” I told Bump.

  I watched on as the second hand made another full revolution around the clock on the far wall. Eyes tired, I moved to the couch and sat down. Lyrics from one of the movie’s songs played in my head as I threw my legs up onto the soft cushions, staring into the ball and humming along.

  A poster on the wall caught my eye. I studied it while images of the movie danced through my mind. I don’t remember how long I was staring at it before something about it clicked.

  Devin X.

  11

  Angel

  He stood front and center on the life-sized poster with his hair hanging down past his shoulders, all dark silk and crazy curls. He had one eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his face that could be condescending, cruel…or turn into a gentle smile, just like that.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Shoving up off the couch, the crystal ball fell from my hand into the cushion, already forgotten. I stormed over to the poster and stared at it. From this angle, his head was nearly two feet above mine. I craned my neck, struggling to see him full on. He had only taken his sunglasses off for a short time when we’d been together, after I teased him…and again in the throes of wild, intense love-making. And in the shower.

  But now, there was no denying it.

  This picture.

  Devin X.

  Mac.

  It was him.

  Swearing, I grabbed a nearby chair and hauled it closer to scowl into the face of one of the world’s most famous magicians.

  And the best liar I’d ever met.

  Management, my ass.

  Security, bullshit.

  I had slept with Devin X?

  Devin X was Bump’s baby daddy?

  Mac was Devin X?

  I was so worried about this trip possibly getting him into trouble with his job, and he owned the damn hotel! I guess I should’ve known from the fact that he made me wait in this room. It was one level above the penthouses and presidential suites. This was no mid-level staff’s lodging.

  Christ.

  “You sneaky, lying, good for nothing son of a bitch,” I shrieked at the poster, pointing a terse index finger at the spot where it could easily hit his eye socket if he were really standing there.

  “That’s not totally fair, Angel,” a voice said calmly from behind me with no warning. “You never asked me who I was.”

  Startled, I spun around. The chair wobbled, and if Mac hadn’t sprung forward and caught me, I would’ve ended up crashing to the floor at an inconvenient angle.

  As it was, I still sort of fell. Right against him with his arms around my waist and the feel of his chest against my belly. My heart reacted, pounding in my chest as something small and sturdy down low in my belly thumped a demand for attention.

  Mac felt it, too. Something flickered in his eyes before he lowered me to the ground. “Well,” he said. He cleared his throat then offered, “Now I don’t have to ask if you’re sure you’re pregnant. He’s a wily one. Or she. I felt that.”

  “Of course, I’m pregnant,” I remarked without definitively addressing Bump’s gender. “You really believe I’d make up something like that? Trust me, I am. I’d know, after three pregnancy tests, one full month of morning sickness, one ultrasound, and two visits to my OB/GYN. Don’t even talk about the fact that I’ve grown out of Almost. All. My. Damn. Clothes.” Especially my bras. I didn’t mention that part out loud. Covering my belly with my hand, I gave him a fake smile. “No, I’m pretty damn certain I’m pregnant, Mac. Or Devin X. Or whoever you are!”

  “Mac.”

  His eyes shot with laser-like intensity to my belly, lingering there.

  As Bump thumped between us again, doing what felt like a double somersault, I forced another smile. “She’s excited. Probably because I’m shocked out of my skull as to what you hid from me in plain sight. Which makes me really curious about what else you’ve been hiding.” I looked down at my belly. “She usually isn’t quite this active.”

  “She.” His voice went soft and rough at the same time. “You found out it’s a girl?”

  “No,” I replied honestly. I had no idea why I’d started referring to Bump as female. “I still don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl. Saying ‘she’ just sort of slipped out. I’ve been calling the baby ‘Bump’.”

  His brows shot up, all but disappearing into his hairline. “Bump?”

  He still stood way, way too close for my rapidly eroding self-control. With my feet solidly on the ground now, I casually eased away, putting a couple of paces between us before saying another word.

  “Yes. Bump.” Standing so close still did bad, bad things to my body. My nipples were so hard, they hurt. And other parts of me were aching as well. Turning to face him, I framed the hard mound of my growing belly. “She goes bump, bump, bump all the time. And she’s…well, a bump. So…Bump.”

  To my surprise, he laughed. It was a low, husky chuckle and it sent shivers through me that I had to fight to suppress. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, a pensive expression on his face.

  “Can I...” Then he stopped, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

  It was pretty obvious what he was thinking to ask.

  “I don’t know how long she’s going to keep doing her somersaults. Baby gymnasts probably need more rest than most.” Holding out my hand, I waited for him to give me his. The expression on his face made my heart melt. Something in his eyes looked like wonder, a little awe and a whole lot of surprise when I placed his hand on my belly.

  We stood there while he felt the baby roll and twist for a few more seconds before she quieted down.

  “Is that normal? I mean, is everything okay with...?” His eyes shot up to meet mine, then dipped low, back down to where Bump seemed to have tuckered herself out.

  I nodded. “Completely normal, according to the obstetrician.”

  Awkwardness settled between us, and he slid his hand from mine before pulling away. “Thank you for that.”

  As he moved over to the window, staring outside, I braced myself. He hadn’t asked. I was tired of waiting for him to do it, so I was just going to put it out there. “Aren’t you going to ask me if she’s yours or not?”

  He shot me an irritated look. “I know she’s mine.”

  It was almost unsettling, the calm way in which he said those words.

  “Just like that? I was prepared for you to demand a DNA test or something.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to have friends riding my ass for not agreeing to one. Probably the lawyers too. But for me personally? I don’t need one. You’re not the type to lie.”

  “How would you know that?” I asked, angling my chin up, “I mean no, I’m not, but how do you know?”

  He closed the distance between us again and reached up. My breath caught as he feathered the tip of one finger across my eyebrow. “You can’t be in my line of work and not be a master at reading people. Now my friend LeVan is better at reading facial expressions. He’s the mentalist on our team. But I have a few tricks up my sleeve as well. And you lie about as easily as you fly.”

  “I can lie,” I countered mildly, to my defense. And my cheeks colored. I could feel the blood rushing straight to them.

  “Yes, so I see.” His fingers now moved down to brush over the roses that bloomed in my cheeks.

  He wasn’t mocking me. It was odd that he could say something so forward and not be making fun, but he was merely pointing it out. And then he was touching me, really touching me, as if the brief physical contact from those few light caresses made him yearn for more.

  It had certainly done that to me.

  As he swept one finger down the arch of my
neck, I said, “You really shouldn’t touch me. Not like that. I’m sure we need to talk, and your touching me does the same thing to me now that it did close to five months ago.”

  “And just what is that?” he asked, liquid heat pulsing in his voice, echoing in the very pit of my belly.

  Instead of answering, I just gave him a look.

  He returned it, shifting his hand so that his palm covered my neck from the base of his hand to the very tips of his fingers. I shivered, feeling the rough rasp of calluses before he dragged his hand lower. It slipped over the fine cotton of my blouse, and I suddenly hated the shirt. It was one of my favorites, one that still fit, probably the only one I’d brought along that flattered my figure.

  And just then I wanted to burn it.

  It was how he touched me. I couldn’t stand that much longer. Not without much, much more. Then, it wasn’t in the way quite so much, but rather, what his deft fingers were busy doing. Mac slipped open one button, then another, and another.

  “What exactly do you think you’re doing?” I asked, my voice rough.

  “Well,” he teased. “You might not have studied people the way I have, but you’re a smart lady, Angel Halliwell. I’ve noticed that about you. I’m sure you can figure this out. But since you asked…I’m unbuttoning your blouse.”

  “Why?” Christ, what was up with my voice, shaking like that?

  “Because I’ve done little else at night but dream about you. That’s why.”

  I opened my mouth and tried to find a fitting response. I had nothing.

  Mac continued with, “Ever since the last time I touched you, I’ve done little else but kick my own ass all day for not finding a way to track you down. All while my PA kept those letters a big fat secret from me. And now here you are, beautiful. You’re here. And you’re carrying my child. I’ll be damned if I let another moment slip by without getting my hands on you again.”

  The words were delivered in a raw, blunt voice that left my knees weak and shaking.

  Reaching up, I gripped his arm at my cleavage.

  “Spending the next thirty minutes naked isn’t going to do much to help us figure out how we’re going to handle this situation,” I pointed out.