Ruin Me: Vegas Knights

by Bella Love-Wins

  Turning my face towards his, I kissed him lightly. “I once asked my dad to put a moat in. I was seven, and he asked what I wanted for my birthday—I told him a moat. As you can see, I didn’t get one.”

  “Princess Angel.” He tsked under his breath. “Are they going to lock you up in a tower while we’re here? Will I have to slay a dragon or something if I want to kiss you?”

  “No. My parents will figure that if you got me interested, you already conquered that dragon.” Wrinkling my nose at him, I added, “I’ve been known to be incredibly discriminating, even though you might think that’s hard to believe considering how we met, and that we’ve only spent…what, eight days together and I’m taking you home.”

  “I believe you. Trust me, I’ve been known to keep to myself too. There’s that saying. It’s less about quantity and more about quality.”

  “Hmm.” Smiling at him, I asked, “Are you ready to go in?”

  “Not really. This…meeting your parents thing is unnerving.” He gave me a pained look. “But if we stayed out here for too much longer we’d freeze. I know now that I don’t like the cold.”

  “I guess that means you won’t try one of those stunts where you go over the Falls in a barrel, or freeze yourself into a human-size block of ice just so you can escape it, or something crazy like that.” I reached for the door as Mac laughed.

  “I’ve done crazier. It usually involves fire and motorcycles. Not barrels. Definitely not ice. And never water.”

  “Why not?”

  A flicker of panic crossed his face for an instant before he smiled to mask it. “I’ll leave the water tricks to Sly. He’s way better at them.” He blew out a breath between his teeth. “I’m going to assume those are your folks.”

  I looked up and saw Mom and Dad at the open door, gleeful smiles on their faces as they peered through the snow that had just started to fall. “Yes, that’s them.”

  “Let’s go in. I’m looking forward to getting this part over and done with.”

  “I never would’ve noticed,” I said casually.

  “Tell us about yourself,” Mom said to Mac. The four of us were seated in the living room with canapés and wine.

  I had to decline on the alcohol, naturally. Mom offered to get me a bottle of the kind I liked, being well aware that my tastes ran a sharp 180 degrees from what she and Dad preferred. On her second offer, I turned her down again and she noticed.

  Mac glanced at me too. I could see a glint in his eyes, although I wasn’t sure if he was looking around for an escape route or silently hinting to me that now was a good time to announce my pregnancy. I already figured this was the main reason he was here to meet them in the first place.

  Well, I was curious to hear about him too. On the edge of my seat, to be honest. But if I was reading him right, he had a point. I needed to get to the punch line about Bump.

  “Mom, you’ll have to be nosy later. Don’t start the inquisition just yet. You’ll have time to get to know Mac.”

  I rubbed his shoulder, then got to my feet. Mom’s eyes flicked to my hand. My left hand, of course. It was pure coincidence that my left hand was on his shoulder. He was on my left. But I knew immediately what she was observing. Searching for. That look had less to do with our subtle intimacy and more to do with her hope to catch sight of something there with gold or platinum with a nice big diamond in it. When she didn’t find an engagement ring on my hand, I saw the disappointment that darkened her blue eyes. It was only there for a moment, then gone again just as quickly before she brightened her smile because we were entertaining a guest.

  I had a feeling I was about to make up for it, though. Maybe. Parents as loving as they were could only be thrilled about the conception of their first grandchild, right? Unplanned ones too? From a baby daddy I’d only known for all of two seconds?

  “So, Mom and Dad...Mac and I met back in the summer,” I said.

  They both sat up a little straighter.

  I picked my words carefully to steer clear of a glaring detail. They didn’t need to know about the one-night stand. Mom would do the math soon enough, once we told her who Mac was and where he spent most of his time while I was in Mexico City.

  I glanced at Mac. His face hadn’t changed much. He’d stayed stoically silent, but now, the polite smile on his face widened a fraction.

  I deliberately wore a loose shirt that camouflaged my belly. However, something clued my mother in. Maybe the shirt was pulled just right when I turned, or she had a flash of maternal intuition. I don’t know, but only a few seconds after I rose, she got to her feet too, clasping her hands over her mouth to muffle a squeal.

  A squeal. My mother squealed.

  “Mom…” Rolling my eyes I looked at her, shaking my head.

  “Oh, honey.” She waved a hand at me, laughing a little. The sound was watery, eliciting a quick look from my father. Her eyes were wet. “Please, do go on. Don’t mind me.”

  “You kind of ruined it now.” I glanced at Dad and he met my gaze, still puzzled about Mom’s behavior. I’d seen his quick check of my ring finger too, but with the conspicuous absence of a ring, he had apparently decided to withhold judgment.

  “At least I get to surprise one of you.” Shaking my head, I looked at my father, then down at my belly. “Dad, look.”

  With my hands, I drew the shirt tight.

  He glanced down then back at my face. I smiled when it took a few seconds for him to get the hint. Then I saw the surprise register, followed immediately by excitement and a rush of other emotions.

  Moments later, I was engulfed by my exuberant parents. From the corner of my eye, I happened to catch sight of Mac. He was looking the other way. There was a pulse ticking in his jaw. That jaw was as rigid and steely as anything I’d ever seen in my life.

  “I told my daughter I wouldn’t pry, so feel free to just change the subject if you don’t want to talk about it. But you sound French. Is that a bit of Louisiana in your voice?” Mom asked over dinner.

  Mac gave her a polite smile. “It is. I’m one hundred percent Cajun. I grew up there. I haven’t been back in years, though. Don’t really plan on changing that, either.”

  The firmness to his tone made it clear that while he didn’t mind answering that specific question, he wouldn’t elaborate on it. It was a neat trick. I’d have liked to learn that. It probably had something to do with being an entertainer.

  “I’ve seen your shows on TV before.” Dad held a glass of wine, admiration on his smiling face. “I can’t believe that Angel has known you for all those months but didn’t tell us. She knows how much I love magic. From a distance, of course. I’ve always had a fascination with illusions. Wait, did she tell you that my great-great-grandfather met the great Houdini in person?”

  I felt Mac’s interest flare immediately.

  Giving him my best look of complete and utter innocence, I said, “I’ve had other things on my mind, Dad.”

  “Yes, but it’s Harry Houdini,” he stressed in a mild voice, although the words carried a note of reverence.

  “Yeah, but…” I shrugged. “That’s your thing. I figured I’d let you tell him...you know, while we had other stuff going on.”

  “For all those months, you didn’t mention—” Dad persisted but went quiet when Mom poked him hard in his side.

  “Hush now, darling.” She raised her eyebrows. “Does it matter? Now you can tell him the story yourself.”

  I smiled my thanks at Mom as my father launched into the familiar story, telling Mac about my great-great-grandpa, an amateur magician who’d managed to meet the legend backstage after a show.

  “You know, once upon a time, I fancied the idea of pursuing the craft myself. But I was never good enough.” My father ended his story with that statement and a shrug. “You, however, are amazing. I’ve seen you, and your two partners. You men are fantastic.”

  “Dad,” I chided, hoping he’d get the hint that he was starting to sound a bit too fan-crazed.


  He smiled, eyes still on Mac. “I was good…for an amateur. But I didn’t want it enough. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice—and good magic is something that takes sacrifice, isn’t it, Mac?”

  Oh.

  Oh God.

  There was more to his storytelling than just fanfare. Dad was layering in his expectations. Jesus. Mac wasn’t about to take this well. Warning, warning… the voice in my head clicked on, but it was too late. Mom must have heard it, too, because she was already leaning over to murmur in Dad’s ear or find a way to kick him in the shin to stop him.

  Mac moved to speak first, leaning in so that he met my father’s gaze dead on. “Mr. Halliwell—”

  “Please.” My father waved a hand and casually cut him off. “Call me Phillip—or Phil. After all, you’re the father of my grandchild.”

  Mac nodded. “Phillip, I hope you don’t mind me just getting straight to the point here. I’ve never been one for beating around the bush. Something tells me you’d appreciate that.” He paused, a brow cocked.

  “Of course,” Dad said, waving a hand.

  “Yes, what I do takes a lot of sacrifices. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to skip out on my responsibilities to the baby.” His jaw went tight for the briefest second and I had a flashback of the expression I had seen on his face earlier. But it lasted only a second this time.

  And the smile he gave me then…

  I was swooning.

  My heart skipped a few beats before starting to race.

  “I’m going to be a good father. I’ll have to figure it out because I didn’t have much of an example myself. But this baby won’t be relegated to the sidelines. He or she will have my full attention whether I’m in between tours or working day in and day out.” He paused, then added, “Does that help put you at ease?”

  My father tipped his wine in Mac’s direction. “Son, I think I’m really going to like you.”

  18

  Angel

  I couldn’t decide if I appreciated the fact that my parents viewed themselves as modern and open-minded people, or if I was a little embarrassed.

  Instead of escorting us to my old room from when I lived here, they took us to a different section of the house entirely. It was definitely not the light blue princess in a castle theme that my childhood and teenage room had been.

  No, this was a lavish suite. A guest room that was in no way reflective of my life in this home.

  One suite for the both of us.

  Not two separate rooms.

  Done in shades of silvery gray and lavender, it was feminine without being fussy, and not so heavily decorated that a man would feel out of place. The large king bed was positioned underneath a massive window that looked out over the gardens. The shrubs and flowers were almost bare and snow-covered now, but still beautiful.

  “I hope you enjoy the room,” Mom said, smiling from Mac to me. “Mac, if you need anything, please, feel free to let Angel know. This is, after all, still her home in many ways.”

  Once they were gone I turned to him, but not before noticing that our bags had already been brought up. Amazing, that they assumed the friend I was bringing home wasn’t a male friend, but rather a boyfriend. And that was before they found out about the baby.

  Or maybe they spied us kissing out in the car.

  I gestured to the suitcases. “Lambert had our things brought up,” I pointed out needlessly. “He’s already hung our clothes, folded and put everything away. I hope you don’t mind. He takes his job quite seriously, even though I’ve told him many times that he didn’t need to do any of that for my guests.”

  “Lambert.” Mac gave it a slight French pronunciation, the way my mother always did. It sounded like Lam-bear. “Was that the big guy who hovered around in the background looking at me like he wanted to bring the pain? To me specifically?”

  I broke out in a laugh. “Yes. That would be him. He’s…um…well, he’s protective.”

  “He should be, considering what I plan on doing now that I’ve got you alone.” Mac caught me around the waist, his arms snug around the small of my back. His mouth lowered to nibble a path along my collarbone. “Is he hiding out somewhere around here, just waiting to pounce on me for touching you?”

  “Come on. Of course not.” I might have rolled my eyes, but he was too busy sapping the objection from me with his lips.

  As his tongue burned a heated path along my skin, I ran my fingers through his hair.

  It took him no time at all to get me naked. Even less time to get me on the bed, spread out under him. His mouth and hands gave truth to the popular claims that he was one of the greatest magicians of all time. There wasn’t a part of me he didn’t touch, and seemingly all at once.

  His tongue taunted and toyed with one nipple, while one hand cupped my other breast, and the other hand palmed my ass. Then he was stroking my calf and running a hand through my hair, angling my head up to meet a kiss that was almost bruising in its intensity.

  I was moaning, all but ready to cry and beg by the time he started to strip out of his clothes.

  The feel of his naked body brushing against mine was almost too much.

  His chest was devoid of any kind of body hair and rubbed against my nipples and I cried out, desperate to feel more of him. One heavy thigh pushed between mine. I groaned, gripping his shoulders and clutching him tighter. But he wasn’t close enough.

  “Stop teasing,” I demanded, and hooked one leg around his hips.

  “This isn’t teasing,” he said. He hovered over me as his pale eyes, a bright green with a ring of darker brown, met mine. “You don’t know what teasing is.”

  “Don’t even…”

  He caught my wrists and dragged them up over my head. “I’ll show you teasing, mon ange.”

  For one brief moment, he held my wrists pinned there. Then his hands were gone—but my wrists were still immobilized.

  I jerked and looked up, only to see his belt looped around my wrists—and underneath it was something pale blue—my panties. He had somehow managed to handcuff me using his belt and my panties, and I hadn’t noticed all the movement and maneuvering he’d need for that.

  Magic.

  “Mac,” I said warningly.

  “I’m giving you a demonstration.” His teeth flashed at me, white against the rich tan of his skin.

  “I don’t need one. Not right now...”

  “Come on. You’re going to see a master up close. Real close. Now…I’ve got to set the scene.”

  My breath caught as he got up, moving away from the bed, wearing his jeans slung low around his hips. He paused at the foot of the bed, looking around. After a few more seconds, he grinned back at me.

  “This’ll be easy.”

  “What?” I demanded.

  “Just close your eyes…or not. Your call.” He winked. “You won’t see anything, anyway.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Nerves tripped inside me. I was so busy watching him, though, I didn’t pay attention to anything else. He’d walked a path across the room as he spoke, pausing here and there, and now as he turned, meeting my gaze once more, he held a finger to his lips.

  A split second later, the room lit up with candle light. All at once, and he was feet away from all the little tealights and candles. My mom loved candles. Almost every room had a healthy scattering of them, including this one. But how he could’ve lit them all up at once from the center of the room…that had to be magic. He came to me, hands loose at his sides and bent down, his long hair falling around us, shielding us in.

  “Nothing’s up my sleeve, Angel.”

  I tugged at the belt. “Yeah. You took your shirt off. Hence, no sleeves.”

  How had he lit the candles?

  “True. I’ll make it a lot of fun for you to explain…” He straightened over the bed and held up empty hands. Then, as if reaching for something in midair, he made a circular flourish with his right hand. The sight of the rose in his grip caused my jaw to drop
open. It was a delicate, misty lavender shade of pinkish-purple. I’d never seen a rose that color. Flicking my eyes, I looked at the floral arrangement at the door. Okay, so it was a match, but when had he--

  “Stop trying to figure it out, Angel. It’s magic.”

  He traced the rose down my cheek, its petals velvety soft. I shivered as he trailed it lower, lower, along my neck, then across the slope of one shoulder, then down to my cleavage. The petals were incredibly fragile, smooth, a whisper of a touch when he made it down to one nipple. Then he swept the rose over to the other side. That peak had puckered tight in anticipation and excitement. The feel of that flower was akin to torment.

  “Mac, please…”

  “Shhh. It’s a lesson on how to endure my teasing, mon ange,” he murmured, before dipping his head to nip the skin at the top of my breast lightly.

  And he didn’t stop tormenting me with the rose. He slid it across my belly. Up, down, up, down, then back and forth in even lower strokes, until the petals were brushing against the trimmed bush between my thighs.

  He lifted his head then and braced a knee on the bed, eyes locked on the flower petals. “You’re as soft as this rose,” he mused. “Softer...and you smell even sweeter.”

  He caught my ankle and dragged my thighs apart, trailing the rose down my thigh before sliding it back up. I gasped as he slid the petals up, then down along my folds. “It’s too soft for the kind of pleasure I want to give you, this flower. But it’s perfect for playing.”

  He passed it over my clit.

  Whimpering, I jerked against the restraints. Mac bent back low over me and kissed me. “Feel that?”

  “Yes.” How could I not? He was rubbing the rose against me, and oh... His hand… He hadn’t moved the flower, but now he was massaging my clit through it. Thrashing back and forth on the bed, I cried out his name. But he silenced the sound a split second after I started, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that was just another tease. His tongue swept into my mouth, mimicking the motions I wanted to feel so bad just then, thrusting in, out, in out…a prelude to how his body would possess mine.