Ruin Me: Vegas Knights

by Bella Love-Wins

  “But he’s a friend of yours.” She sighed, her laughter fading as she turned around to face me.

  “He is.” Brushing her hair back, I cupped her chin in my hand. “And he’ll probably be here soon. The man’s out of control. I’m sure if he shows, Leonard and LeVan will be with him, calming him down. Maybe even Thea, LeVan’s girl.”

  “That’s just great. No offense to your friends. It’s just…we haven’t accomplished much. You know what I mean. You and I. Talking. We need to discuss…all of it.” Her cheeks colored again.

  I pressed my lips to her forehead. “You came three times. I came twice. We can’t say nothing was accomplished. Besides…” I covered her belly with my hand. “Bump’s asleep. We bored her silly. Figuratively…I hope.”

  She surprised me with the warmest smile that stole my heart.

  Again.

  13

  Angel

  I met his people.

  Mac had this look the whole time.

  Of course, he could also play Jason Momoa’s doppelgänger any day of the week and twice on Sundays. So I didn’t question the expression on his face.

  His friend LeVan looked and sounded like one of Heaven’s angels, straight from the pages of some fantasy romance. His dark hair shot through with light strands of gold that matched his pale eyes. A long, muscular, yet lean body that held a dancer’s grace. A voice that sounded too beautiful to be real. He didn’t need a magician’s tricks to mesmerize people, I didn’t think. He just needed to talk.

  He was so mellow.

  And hopelessly in love with Thea, who I’d read was also sweet and lovable.

  Sly, though.

  Sly was a whole different kettle of fish. He was like LeVan’s foil. The hard, rigid ice to LeVan’s relaxed, golden fire. Which was strange, because Sly’s hair was gingery red, as were his eyebrows and even the tips of his lashes. If that wasn’t his real color, he went to a lot of trouble to fake it. His skin was a milky white, with not a single freckle—lucky bastard—and his eyes were a pale, glacial blue. I could see scrolling ink from tattoos on his neck. He wasn’t shy, at all, something I knew to be fact because he, unlike the other two, had been known to appear in photoshoots all but naked, and those tattoos were practically everywhere.

  I was sure women who liked his type found him irresistibly handsome. Roguishly pretty perhaps, the way his hairline crowned his face in a widow’s peak, which was echoed in the high arch of his eyebrows. The two features combined to give him a satirical, permanently skeptical look.

  The absolute contrast to LeVan’s sweet perma-smile.

  His body seemed wiry, but Sly was well-built. There was nothing soft or gentle about him, although he was just as beautiful as LeVan and Mac in his own way. Except, while LeVan’s beauty made me think of an angel’s court and Mac could’ve dominated in Hollywood, the only place Sly might feel at home would be if he was reigning in Hell.

  The ice-cold contempt gleaming in his eyes as we were introduced couldn’t be any more brazen. If he were trying to hide it, he was failing miserably. I tried not to let it get to me. Sly was a friend and partner to Mac. There had to be something in him worth liking. I was willing to work on finding it.

  “So, you’re the one,” he said to me in a level voice. He offered nothing else, not even his hand in greeting.

  I wasn’t used to such a dismissive stance. My cheeks flamed in response, making me glad I’d taken time to freshen up in Mac’s shower, including reapplying my makeup. It wouldn’t completely hide my blush, but it definitely softened it. Judging by the glint in his sharp blue eyes, he was looking to make me uncomfortable.

  And God, it was working.

  I really hated the effort I had to put in to make sure he knew I wasn’t going to accommodate him.

  Breezily, I replied, “It appears so. Lovely to meet you…it’s Sylvester O’Malley, right?”

  “The name’s Sly,” he corrected me, a muscle near his eye twitching.

  I’d hate hearing my name too if it were Sylvester O’Malley.

  “Oh.”

  I smiled sweetly. As mentioned, extra effort was expended in the process. “I thought that was just a stage name. For effect. Attention-getting and such. Sly, then.”

  And Mac said I couldn’t lie. Ha! I took the time to get to know at least a few details about the magicians who performed in this hotel—or something about them, at least. Tamika was crushing hard on all three, and went to shows for each of them twice. My best friend was close to ugly crying when she heard LeVan was getting married, but after reading a few feature articles about them, making them out to be star-crossed lovers who’d finally managed to reunite, she’d cried again. Happy, oh, that’s so beautiful, tears.

  Tamika also shared tidbits about each of them, including the one about Sly’s dislike of his given name.

  I planned to forgetfully call him Sylvester at least a few times on this visit. He’d already clearly made up his mind about me.

  LeVan.

  The third, quieter member of the trio nudged Sly out of the way none too gently, and I looked up—and up until I finally met his pair of pale gold eyes. The golden hew of LeVan’s irises was just a few shades lighter than his skin, echoed by the lighter flecks glittering around inside it.

  “I’m LeVan.” He glanced over at the side where Sly had taken up residence, leaning against Mac’s desk. “You’ll have to excuse him. He seems to think he’s our fearless leader and is therefore allowed to speak for all of us.” Then he held out his hand. “It’s great to meet you, Angel.”

  “Thank you.” I met his gaze and felt him sizing me up. He was subtle at it, though, so good. I wouldn’t have had a clue what he was doing if I hadn’t spent most of my life noticing people measure me up against all manner of standards, no thanks to our wealth and influence. “What exactly is a mentalist?”

  A wicked smile creased his face. “You haven’t seen my show yet?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “We’ll have to fix that.” The door opened and LeVan glanced away from me. In that second, everything about him subtly changed.

  How he held himself. How he stood. The smile on his face. It was…remarkable. The woman who stood in the door was stunning, too, despite the fact that she seemed flustered, on edge, and out of sorts. Her eyes bounced over to me, then to LeVan as she came inside.

  “Oh hi. I’m Thea… and this is my brother, Nicky.” The young man beside her bore a striking similarity to her, but still seemed different. He matched her pace beside her, his eyes focused on the ground, and his mouth set in a mutinous frown. “I can’t stay, LeVan. Nicky and I are having a bad day.”

  “I’m not having a bad day!” the man half-shouted, glaring at her back. “You are, and you’re mean.”

  “That doesn’t seem very nice,” I said without thinking.

  All eyes swung toward me, including the young man’s—Nicky, I assumed.

  He blinked at me, then frowned, cocking his head. “Who are you?”

  “Hi Nicky. My name’s Angel.” I’d read about him too.

  “No,” he said, voice truculent, hard even. “My name is Nick. I’m a man, and I want to be called Nick.”

  “That doesn’t seem like a hard thing to do.” Approaching him, I held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Nick.”

  A slow smile crept up on his face. “You got a baby in you. Men put babies in women. They use their penises. It’s called sex.”

  Blood rushed to my face, but I’d handled comments just as blunt—and innocent—before. Usually, they were from people younger than this, but this man’s innocence was no different from the children I’d worked with. That was evident.

  Thea covered her face and whispered, “Oh, dear Lord, please…patience…”

  I managed to nod at Nick. “You know what, you’re right. But there are some things people don’t really talk about in public.”

  Nick blinked at me. Then he looked around, slightly hunching his shoulders in as he took in
the atmosphere. Thea and I were the only ones embarrassed. I had the feeling the men—two of them at least, were trying not to react at all. They were doing an admirable job of it, to be honest.

  “Thea, weren’t you saying you needed to take Nicky home?” Sly said.

  “It’s Nick!”

  Just like that, Nick’s flaring temper resurged and he spun around to glare at Sly. “You don’t like it when people call you Sylvester! I heard you tell Thea that. She hates it when people call her Dorothea. Why can’t I decide what I want to be called, too?”

  “You can.” Thea stepped forward, arms crossed over her chest. “However, you can’t lash out at people and start yelling at them when you’ve made a decision like that and expect us to know automatically. Except for LeVan, nobody here claims to read minds.”

  “He doesn’t really read minds,” Nick said, mumbling now and thumping his fist on his leg. “He told me that.”

  “Nick…” LeVan approached. “Why don’t you, me and Thea go downstairs and hit the pastry shop?”

  “I don’t want to talk to Thea. She called me Nicky in front of a nice girl. It’s embarrassing. And the girl laughed at me and it’s all Thea’s fault.”

  The level of awkwardness shot up by about ten thousand.

  I felt like I was the one who needed to leave and it had nothing to do with how Sly was shooting me sideways glares that all but shouted, You’re in the way, blondie…

  The problem was resolved by Thea herself, though.

  She tossed her hair back and smiled brightly at me. “I’m going to use my own mentalist trick here and deduce that you’re Mac’s friend. Fascinating story you’ve got. And I really am craving a pastry—maybe you and I can have some coffee and get to know each other before you fly out?”

  “Sure. I’d love that. With you and Nick, if you’d like.”

  “Maybe. If he’s being nice.”

  I was honestly up for anything. With anyone. Whatever it took to get to know the people Mac called friends. Knowing them would help me understand him.

  And God, I really hoped Mac and I would get some time to talk about Bump. And the two of us.

  Later that evening

  “Mac looks at you like he wants to eat you up,” Thea announced as the elevator doors closed behind us.

  Mac seemed more than a little disgruntled as I declared to Thea that I’d love some coffee—and to get out of the mess of tension that was building up by the second. Nick, though, seemed to breathe easier too. I thought maybe guy talk was the cure he needed.

  “Mac is kind of…” I paused, searching my brain for a way to describe him that wouldn’t make it so obvious that I wanted to eat him up just as much if not more.

  “Intense? Delicious? He kind of has a Jason Momoa thing going on, doesn’t he? Like he could rock a woman’s world in the best kind of way?” Thea offered with a playful smile.

  Eyebrows shooting up, I teased her with, “Aren’t you with LeVan?”

  “I’m with him, yes. I’ve loved him since…well, forever.” She shrugged and grinned at me. “That doesn’t mean that I’m dead. I can appreciate a fine work of man art.”

  “Man art. I like that.” The elevator doors dinged opened and I hesitated, looking around. “I don’t think this is the lobby level.”

  “It’s not.” She stepped out breezily, one hand on the door to keep it from closing. “It’s ours. LeVan and I have the east tower penthouse—excuse the mess. We’re knocking a few walls down to expand our place and add an adjoining apartment for Nicky—well, Nick.” She grimaced and shot me a look. “How did you learn to deal with special needs folks so easily?”

  I walked alongside her to the massive doors ahead of us, sidestepping the plastic sheeting and tarps that lined the left side of the hall.

  “Nowhere, really. I deal with them like they’re people.”

  “I…” Thea stopped, frowning at me. She was mildly insulted. Maybe angry.

  Stopping as well, I met her gaze. “It sounds harsh, but Nick was just being honest. I don’t know what his diagnosis is, but I can tell he’s self-reliant. He can make his own decisions, at least to some extent.”

  Pausing, I raised a brow and waited. She gave a short nod, her mouth puckered in a frown. I hoped I wasn’t upsetting a potential friend, but there were certain things I was good at, certain things that I just…did. Advocating for people was up there.

  “Okay.”

  “Your brother knows what he likes and dislikes. He’s a person, too. If he voices an opinion about something, why not respect it? And if it won’t hurt him, why not?” I ended with a shrug.

  “It’s not that I…” Thea huffed out a breath as she unlocked the door and we stepped inside. She pulled out her smartphone and tapped at the screen for a few seconds before putting down both the phone and the key card she’d used on the door. “I’m not sure if I’m going to like you or not.” She laughed, gesturing down the hall so I’d follow her. “I’d decided I would because it looks like Sly hasn’t scared you off yet—and he would’ve tried, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t think he’s done trying.” Bump decided to tap against my belly at that moment. I rubbed my hand over the area soothingly. “It isn’t just me he took an instant dislike to?”

  “He’s…possessive of the boys.” She shrugged. “They’re tight, the three of them. Been friends for years. Like one another’s second family.”

  I bit back a smile at the thought of Mac being referred to as a boy in any way, but I nodded. I could understand it somewhat. I had friends I was possessive of, protective of. Tamika, for one. And she was the same way with me. Out of all of the people I cared about, she was the only one I’d confided in about being pregnant. Thinking of her now, I was sure she was chomping at the bit to find out how things were going out here in Vegas.

  “How does it feel?”

  I’d been rubbing my stomach, so at Thea’s soft question, I glanced at her, brows arched.

  She laughed. “Not the baby moving around in there, although that’s gotta feel crazy.” Her cheeks blushing a soft pink. “Lately, LeVan and I have been talking. With Nicky and everything, my life is already so complicated. But you look so happy, so satisfied. Have you and Mac already worked things out?”

  “What?” I laughed, then shook my head. “No. We haven’t worked out much of anything. But…yes. I’m happy. No matter what happens between Mac and me, I know what I’m doing. And I know what will happen whether or not we have a chat. In less than five months, I’ll be a mama. This little girl—or boy—will have a mother who loves and adores her, grandparents, an adopted aunt, people who will spoil her rotten. I’m hoping Mac wants to be a part of that, but…” Letting the words trail off, I looked away. “I can’t control what other people do or how they act.”

  “He seems pretty content with the whole idea.” Thea dropped down on a fat, overstuffed couch and kicked her feet up. “Have a seat. Tell me more about yourself, Angel.”

  14

  Mac

  LeVan was finally able to have a talk with Nicky. Nope. Not Nicky. The kid wanted to be called Nick now. He also wanted to ask out a girl at his independent living center. As much as I wished I could talk him out of it, I knew it was something he’d just have to figure out on his own.

  Sometimes, people just had to fall on their asses to learn, and that was one thing Thea didn’t let happen with her brother.

  I liked both of them, but I had to admit, I had a soft spot for Nick. There was something pure about him, innocent, and I understood why Thea wanted to protect him from the whole world. But the world was a big, mean, ugly place. It was impossible to protect anyone from it.

  Once LeVan talked Nick down, the two of them decided they should do what men did when they reached an amicable agreement.

  They went out for beers.

  Thea freaked out the first time Nick had tried one. He took a sip and spat it out just as fast. But LeVan convinced her it wasn’t going to hurt the kid to try regular adult th
ings as long as he was with people who had his back while he did it. I thought it wasn’t a bad idea. I also noticed that ever since Nick started trying normal adult things, he also wanted to act more like a normal adult.

  Thea had trouble with that.

  And that was something I couldn’t help either of them with. It wasn’t any of my business. Plus, I had my own personal stuff to think about. Like the fact that I could barely handle the idea of the stunning beauty being pregnant with my baby.

  My baby. Mouthing the words to myself, I tried to process how I felt about that. Doing so only fried my brain, so instead of trying to pursue that angle, I pushed it aside and focused on Angel.

  My Angel. That I could handle.

  I was told often enough that I was a calculating son of a bitch. The moment I heard her voice on the phone line when I finally reached out to her a few weeks ago, something in me began to plan. It wasn’t a stretch for me to know that I wanted her. Not just for a night or a few days. I wanted her.

  Her, the baby she was carrying, the whole deal.

  Maybe something that resembled normal. I’d never known such a thing, but it’d be nice to have a good, long look at it, wrap my hands around it, and take it for my own for once.

  Take her for my own.

  It’d take some doing, but I could make it happen. Other than my stage shows and the hotel business that LeVan, Sly and I were partners on, I had time. It wasn’t like I had a complicated life that required a lot of rearranging to fit her in. Some part of me felt like I’d been waiting for her to come along and fill this void that was my reality for far too long, but that was too romantic a thought for me. There wasn’t anything romantic in me.

  It was how we fit.

  We fit together, sexually. We even came from the same kind of world. When she talked about things, I understood what she meant. I talked about things that she got. We didn’t need much in the way of breaking things down or explaining. That would’ve irritated the hell out of me.