Reagan chuckles, and to my irritation, so does everyone else in the room.
“For now, I don’t know,” Reagan says. “It’s a process. A man like Dante Giovanetti doesn’t rise to power in a day so he won’t be dethroned in a day.”
“Then what’s the point of us being here,” I grumble. “If you don’t even have a strategy.”
Reagan gives me an exasperated look, and I glare right back. “We’re brainstorming,” he says calmly, in a tone that’s a little closer to patronizing than I really want to hear. “Dante’s a threat, obviously, but we have to outsmart him. We have to find a way to make him think we’re giving him what he wants…but find a way to screw him over in the fine print.”
“Bully for you,” I say, sour grapes deadening my tongue. “I could’ve figured that out on my own. How much did you pay for that law degree, anyway?”
The room falls silent as I cross my arms and cock my head to the side, grinning at Reagan.
“Excuse me,” Reagan says, his voice finally cracking under the pressure. “But you’re here because you need my help, right? So, if you’re just going to mock me, then I don’t know what you’re still doing here.”
His words punch me in the gut, and I have to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from sticking my tongue out. But I don’t regret baiting him. Or standing up for myself.
He started it.
“I’m here because Nixon told me you knew how to take care of Dante,” I spit. “And I trust Nixon and believe in our professional relationship. But right now, I can see that I’m obviously wasting my time.”
“Don’t write me off just yet,” Reagan says. He winks at me, and a shiver runs down my spine. “After all, it takes two to tango, doesn’t it?”
I glare daggers when what I really want to do is capture his lips in mine and kiss him senseless until he stops spewing a bunch of bullshit. I grab my bag and snatch out my favorite pen, the one with a ballerina design.
Just because you saw me naked, Jerry Seinfeld, doesn’t mean you get to treat me like your bouncing ball.
I bite my tongue and remain silent for the rest of the meeting, furiously taking notes in my planner. Hopefully, I’ll never have to see him again.
Chapter Five
Reagan
I can hardly sit still as Taryn stands up, grabs her bag, and saunters out of the room like she owns the damn place, the perfect globes of her ass swaying in her wake.
“What was that?” Nixon asks, turning, a frown taking up his face. All of the other execs and business owners took off, and I’m left with my older and very powerful brother. He seems to take up all the space in the room, and I wonder if there’s any left for me.
“I have no idea,” I say, shrugging. I guess someone doesn’t have a great sense of humor. If I’d had any idea whatsoever that Taryn would take such offense to my little jokes, I never would have said them. She always used to be the first to smile and laugh and had been a joker herself.
It’s strange, I can’t seem to reconcile the New Taryn with the Old Taryn. But then again, I’ve always used my thirst for all things funny whenever I feel embarrassed or inadequate. It isn’t fair of me to think she feels the same.
I remember that she hadn’t recognized me until she stepped into the room. That thought causes a frown to spread across my face. After all, she did call me mystery man. Is she angry with me because she thinks I deceived her?
Nixon hands me a sheaf of papers. I haven’t had the time to read through all of the documents. I make a mental note to fax everything back to New York and have my team of paralegals prepare a document for the group bulleted with some key points. Since I started practicing eight years ago, I’ve never worked on anything this big. I know that Nixon would never pressure me…but I can’t fuck this up, and it’s tightening my muscles. This is like FBI take down big, and I’m glad I get to share the experience with my big bro.
Thirty minutes later, I stand up and stretch, rubbing the feeling back into my neck with both hands. Back when Nixon first told me that he needed my help, I hadn’t imagined anything this…intimidating. I only have vague memories of Dante, mostly of my father railing on and on about him, but he’s a motherfucker – the kind of man who really needs to be put in his place.
And I have a feeling that I’m just the person who can get it done. Nixon’s got a fiery temper and Dante pushes every button. I’m calmer because I don’t have as much skin in the game
“How well do you know her?” I ask as Nixon, and I walk out of the conference room. I try to keep my tone light and casual.
“Who?”
“Taryn,” I say in a rush, giving myself away, but Nix ignores and indulges me all at the same time just like a loving older brother should. “She has a store in your casino, right?”
“Yup. She owns Strict Nécessaire, that high-end boutique on the Promenade. Why? Someone back in NYC that I should know about, little brother? Someone you want to buy a dress for?”
“Nah, no one special,” I say. “So, uh, you’re close, then? To…Taryn?”
Nixon gives me a weird look, and I realize with one more question, he’s going to start firing some of his own.
“Not close. I mean, she’s great to work with, but we’re not really friends outside of work. She does a great job managing and growing her business. Just got a fancy new contract with Ivory Clause. I’m betting it will bring the rich women in droves. Which is great for her business and great for my casino. After they shop, they can gamble then eat and drink.”
“Right.” I rub the tight muscles on the back of my neck. “So, she’s doing well then?”
“I’d say so. I’m proud of her. She really hit the ground running, and she’s very professional. Has a great personality, too. The perfect combination of sophistication, knowledge, and ass-kissing that shoppers with deep pockets want.”
An image of Tipsy Taryn, dancing and swaying with her naughty bits on display, fills my mind. I imagine her slender body twisting and turning to a rhythmic beat and to the catcalls of every horny, drunk douchebag inside Velvet.
“What?” Nixon stops dead in his tracks and cocks his head to the side, and I realize I’ve been fantasizing but also grinning like the village idiot. “I know you’re always the comedian, Reagan. What’s so funny this time?”
“Uh, nothing,” I lie. “Just thinking about college. Taryn and I were both at UNLV.”
“Yeah, I remember.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Our whole family graduated UNLV, so it isn’t a stretch. She was a real musical theater nerd, right? I’m kind of amazed she graduated. With honors, no less.”
“Do you know anything else about her?”
“Why?” Nixon raises an eyebrow, and with that slight movement, I’ve hit the wall. “She’s really under your skin, huh? You two have some kind of spat back in the day? Unresolved issues?”
“No.” I shake my head a little too hard. The question hit way too close to home, and I’m not going to admit anything to my brother who would just use it to ride my ass. “I just figured it would be a good idea to learn about all the players, gauge their skill sets. I can send the information about her to my paralegals. Probably better if my legal team knows as much about your business partners as we can. That way, we can leverage everyone’s talents to our advantage.”
Nixon snorts and stops cold. “That’s a new one,” he says, slapping me on the shoulder a little too hard. “Well, she paid off her small business loan in five years. That’s practically unheard of, especially around here. Her boutique has always done well, but I have a feeling that she rarely spends the money she earns, she puts most of it right back into the store.”
“Smart.”
“Yeah,” Nixon says. “That’s one of the reasons why I like working with her so much. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. A head for business.”
I know exactly where I’d like to put her head.
A sudden image of Taryn bent over my lap, with my cock in her perfect mouth fills my br
ain, and said cock throbs in my pants.
“You okay? You look red,” my brother says. “Need some air? I think you’ve gotten weak during your years in NYC. Your blood isn’t as thin anymore. The heat can be oppressive, remember?”
I loosen the tie around my throat and shake my head. “I’m fine. Just a little warm, that’s all. You’re right, not used to this desert weather.”
“Tell me about it,” Nix says. “I’ve been here forever, and I’m still not used to it. What are you doing tonight, anyway? You want to go out? I think Marcella would love it. With her college and my issues with Dante, we don’t get to go out nearly as often as we should as a couple. I feel bad. I know she spends a lot of nights alone.”
I nod my agreement. Everything in me is desperate for more information. I want Taryn, but I have a feeling that dating her, even for a short time, would involve a serious conflict of interest. After all, if I’m supposed to represent Nixon’s business partners, she falls square in that category. And everyone knows you don’t eat where you shit. For a lawyer, misconduct with a client can get you disbarred.
“She’s gotten even hotter since college,” I say, thinking of the way Taryn moaned and bucked when I sucked her clit deep into my mouth. “She’s really something.”
“Hey, that’s my fiancée you’re talking about,” Nixon teases. He punches me gently in the shoulder.
“Not Marcella,” I correct. “Taryn.”
Nixon turns to me and cocks his head. “You’re interested in someone who lives here? Besides, I thought we were talking about dinner plans – not Taryn.”
Before I can answer, a stunning brunette with thick, long hair down to her waistband walks toward us, my youngest brother in tow. Even though Linc’s using his braces, he strides almost as fast as Marcella. Linc’s got cerebral palsy – the doctors are pretty sure it came from his difficult birth – and since Marcella’s in college to be an occupational therapist, she works with him every day, something they both love.
When she sees Nixon, she grins and scampers over, kissing his cheek. When she and my brother first hooked up, it worried me, especially when he put his ten-million-dollar house in her name alone. Marcella was working as a hotel maid, and like much of Nixon’s female companionship, I thought she was nothing but a gold digger. But now that I’ve gotten to know her, I’ve come to realize that she’s not pretentious at all. Despite full access to Nixon’s wealth, Marcella has to be prodded and practically coerced into spending anything on herself. She’s a good woman.
“Hey, baby,” Nixon says. He gives her a brief squeeze, and I see the love in his eyes.
I want something like that. With Taryn? I frown. Maybe. Is it even possible after our disastrous official meeting today?
I lean down and envelop my baby brother in a huge hug, tousling his hair. Linc grins up at me, and I realize how much I’ve missed him. How much I’ve missed being part of a family.
“Hey,” Marcella says. She smiles when she sees me, and a certain warmth touches her brown eyes that I envy. “It’s good to see you, Reagan. How are you finding Las Vegas?”
“Different from New York.” Different in that I actually have access to the girl of my dreams. It’s not that I’m necessarily inexperienced with women…I’ve had a few girlfriends and more than a few one-night stands. But I’ve spent most of my life working hard on my career, and taking the time for anything over and above quality casual isn’t something I’ve ever prioritized. If I’m honest, a relationship isn’t something I’ve ever wanted.
Until now.
“It’s hot here, isn’t it, Reag?” Linc’s question snaps my head back in his direction.
“It sure is, buddy.”
“It is hotter than blazes right now,” Marcella adds with a smile that nearly blinds me. When she turns her happiness on you, it could light the entire room. “I’m so glad you’re here to help Nixon with his little challenge. I don’t think we’ve actually talked since the engagement party.”
“I think you’re right. I should, uh, really make an effort to keep up with my family more. Vegas isn’t a bad place to visit when you have to fly home.”
“I know you must be busy,” Marcella says, letting me off a hook I should still be hanging from since I’m bad at touching base. “It means so much to Nixon that you’re out here, helping with Dante. Is it wrong to say that I hate him,” she adds with a little frown, shaking her head. She looks down at Linc with worry in her expression. I don’t blame her. Dante’s a douche of epic proportions, but he actually killed Marcella’s folks. I’d never forgive or forget such an action from anyone, least of all Dante Giovanetti. “If anyone can bring him down, the Caldwell brothers can.”
Nixon smirks in that way he does when he’s about to lay the hammer down on me, and he doesn’t disappoint. “Reagan was just asking me about your friend, Taryn,” he says, raising an eyebrow.
“Taryn Mitchell? I love her boutique.” Marcella laughs and fans herself with a hand. “I think Nixon actually goes in there more than I do, but wow – too rich for my blood. I still can’t get used to this having more money than I know what to do with thing. I have no idea how Taryn manages to do all of that herself. It’s really impressive.”
“Yeah,” Nixon says. “She’s certainly impressive, isn’t she, Reagan?”
Inwardly, I groan as I fantasize about throat punching my own brother. I’m never going to hear the end of this. “Yeah,” I say through clenched teeth. “She certainly is.”
“Nix, can I talk to you for a second?” She jerks her head toward Linc, who wandered over to look at a gold statue of Chuck Berry. “It’s about your brother.”
“Sure thing.” Nixon turns to me. “You okay? Seemed like you were about to say something.”
I shake my head, trying to clear the image of Taryn from my mind. “No, I’m good. You go ahead.”
Nixon pulls me into a bro hug and then goes off, arm around Marcella. As I watch them walk toward Linc, giggling and cooing like the happy couple they are, something stirs inside of me. What I feel for Taryn – what I think I could feel, anyway – scares the living shit out of me.
It feels like a future.
There’s something about Taryn that really stands out from the crowd. She’s obviously brilliant. She’s beautiful, too, with looks that would make any red-blooded American male crazy with lust. But it’s not just that. There’s something…secret, something almost mysterious hidden under the surface. I can tell she’s a complicated woman, and I can’t deny I find that very sexy. She’s a package I want to unwrap to lay everything underneath the shiny exterior naked to my hungry gaze.
I know pursuing Taryn is a conflict of interest.
But I’m starting to wonder just how much I can make myself care.
Chapter Six
Taryn
“He acted like a complete asshat,” I spit, climbing up the ladder with a bunch of gold crepe clutched in one hand. “You wouldn’t believe it.”
Bailey smiles and clucks her tongue in the universal tone of bestie support. “Taryn, he did save you from getting kicked out of Velvet in disgrace. Imagine how that could have hurt this business if word got around that the owner’s a sexy dancing lush?”
I don’t deny the truth and irony in that statement. “Yeah, so he could get me alone and have his wicked way with me,” I say, sarcasm not lost on Bailey. “Hand me those balloons.”
Bailey hands me a cluster of pink metallic balloons, and I pin them into place, right under the gold crepe. Strict Nécessaire looks fabulous – we’re getting ready for a fashion show right on the Promenade. It’s the first time I’ve ever been in charge of such an event, but Nixon told me that he trusts me. After all, the show is a benefit for his charity – Helping Hands & Hearts, a cerebral palsy nonprofit he and Marcella started in honor of his brother, Lincoln.
Despite being successful, gorgeous, and rich, Nixon also manages to have a heart. He’s like the male triple threat. Now, his ignorant brother on the other hand...
the jury’s still out. How can one brother be so kind and the other such a first-class jerk? Anger blazes as I pin more clusters of crepe to the wall. It’s not fair, I mean, they did come from the same family.
“But he didn’t exactly take advantage of you,” Bailey says. “I mean, he at least waited until you’d sobered up. And from the way you tell it, you practically ripped your own panties off and begged him to lick you. Tell me again how a man that’s all about the woman and nothing about himself in a sexual situation is an asshole? Sounds to me he’s more like a unicorn.” She turns to me and shrugs. “I’ve never had a man service me and not expect anything in return. For all you know, he never thought he’d see you again.”
“Are you kidding?” I roll my eyes. “Besides, it shouldn’t even matter that he waited until I was sober before he put the moves on me.” My argument sounds logical but I know deep inside, I’m a liar. I wanted him. Plain and simple. And for once, I took what I wanted. “That’s like, basic human decency, Bails-of-hay. That shouldn’t even be a yardstick to measure a man on the asshole meter.”
Bailey laughs, but it falls flat between us. “For such a smart girl, you can be pretty dense sometimes. Tell me, how many guys in Vegas would do that? Most of them just want to hit it, quit it, blow their load, and board their airplane back to Topeka.”
I frown because I can’t believe we’re actually talking about a man servicing a woman. Especially when that woman is me. “Does it even matter that most men wouldn’t do it?”
“Taryn Louise Mitchell, of course it matters,” Bailey says. “Reagan seems like a nice guy who just has an awkward sense of humor. Some people use teasing to cover it up when they feel uncomfortable. Didn’t your mama ever tell you that actions speak louder than words? His actions have been impeccable. His words…not as stellar. But that doesn’t mean you should toss the baby out with the bathwater.” She purses her lips and sighs, but I love my Bails and her penchant for redneck euphemisms. She still watches Jeff Foxworthy on cable. “Besides, you have to admit, he’s nicer than some of the guys you’ve dated.”
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