by Addison Fox
Rafe laid a hand over hers, his fingers squeezing tight before he turned to the crowd. “I’m Rafe Stavros and my family owns this casino. I’d like to invite you to drinks and breakfast at the infinity pool.”
Gabe and a few guys she recognized from the security center began shuffling the crowd away and she heard a few bright comments amidst the grumbles. “Drinks aren’t so bad. Maybe some food.”
Once the crowd was managed, the last few men fading out of view, Gabe moved in beside them, his gaze on his brother. Evangeline caught the silent communication, even if Gabe’s words were at odds with the look. “Like lemmings to the edge of a cliff. Some free food. A few watered-down drinks. Disaster averted.”
When Rafe squeezed once more, Evangeline knew she needed to play along. “Seriously? That’s your plan? Stuff them with bacon and send them on their way? What kind of business are you two running?”
Approval lit Rafe’s gaze, but his tone remained as mocking as Gabe’s. “It worked, didn’t it? Besides, we already won all their money.”
“What little the slobs brought with them.”
“I don’t believe you two!” Evangeline added a hand to her hip for good measure. “You manipulated them.”
“Yes,” Gabe nodded, his grin wicked. “We did.”
That cruel, taunting breeze slithered in, wrapping around their legs before whispering along her nerve endings. She practically heard the purr, urging her to anger. To melancholy. To misery.
And it was that greedy push for just a bit more that made Chaos vulnerable. On some level, she didn’t understand, yet simply knew, he’d placed himself in danger.
With the slightest shake of her head to let them know she was ready, she gripped Rafe’s and Gabe’s hands. The moment they were connected, life-giving warmth wrapped around her, battling the anger of the wind.
The cool fingers that had tried to slide around her went to work once more, their firm hold tighter, the grip more desperate as it scrabbled for purchase. A hard, heavy manacle sheathed her wrist, determinedly pulling her from Gabe.
“Don’t let go!”
“I can’t...help it!” Evangeline fought to keep her hold on Gabe but the pressure on her wrist was too strong. The bite of those icy fingers was too deep—too desperate.
The moment her grip released from Gabe, the cold changed tactics. Rafe’s hand tightened on hers, even as the cold crept up her arm, latching itself around her neck.
“Hold on, Evangeline!”
“Rafe—” His name died on a strangled breath as those fingers closed around her. The world around her began to fade and all she could do was think about Rafe. About the warm hand that enveloped her.
And the slow, welcoming arms of the cold.
* * *
A vicious, primal scream echoed in his head as Rafe felt Evangeline’s body go slack. Gabe shouted orders from beside him but Rafe was beyond hearing.
This was his battle. His fight. His woman.
Without breaking contact, Rafe banked his fire and positioned himself to hold Evangeline’s fading form. Wrapping his free hand around her, he cradled her against his body, willing as much heat into her as he could.
That cold air slithered along his arms, the chill bone-deep as it continued to work on Evangeline.
And that gave Rafe an idea.
Fighting the urge to throw his body over her, Rafe stilled, allowing the cold to fill in the gaps. Blue tinged the edges of Evangeline’s features and he struggled with allowing Chaos even one more moment to touch Evangeline and harm her.
“Rafe?”
Gabe’s question faded, his brother’s understanding telegraphing over the top of Evangeline’s head. It was a move they’d played as children, tormenting their cousins with the play of their fire.
What had been a youthful prank suddenly took root as the answer to saving Evangeline.
To saving all of them.
Even though it killed him, Rafe stared down at her, allowing the cold to continue to spread. Blue lips extended into pale skin; her tan vanished under Chaos’s relentless work.
Rafe would give him his moment, for the extra effort would cost him.
It was only when Evangeline’s head fell to the side, her breath exhaling in one hard puff of air, that Rafe’s gaze met his brother’s. On Gabe’s whispered “now” Rafe pushed into him, his brother’s arms circling his neck in a scrum circle.
In unison, they drew on the fire that lived in the deepest part of each of them. It was their bond. Their past. And their legacy.
And in the tight circle they made around Evangeline, it was the life force that smothered whatever ground Chaos had managed to steal. Heat flooded his body, pounding through him like hoofbeats of the wildest mustangs, like flapping wings of the largest eagles. Relentless, he and Gabe pushed on and on, using what was inside of them to beat back the dark.
He knew the moment they won, the air around—and between them—changing. The cold vanished and Evangeline struggled in his arms. Still, Rafe held on, waiting for that lone moment when he heard Chaos’s subtle control snap.
And a great, gulping scream lit up the secondary plane in agony.
Gabe broke contact first, his hands falling to his sides and his head dropping to his chest. Rafe staggered back, Evangeline’s weight suddenly heavy against the adrenaline rapidly burning off in his system. He staggered against the wall, using the support to steady himself as he held her close.
“Rafe?” His name on her lips had him smiling as she slowly came back to herself. “What happened?”
“I’d say Chaos thought his prison bars allowed more freedom than they do. We pushed him back and likely did quite a bit of damage in the process.”
“Is it over?”
He stared down at her, the reality of her question not lost on him. “For now.”
But it wasn’t over. The battle he’d spent a life preparing for had begun and he didn’t know what was to come.
“I can stand.” The moment he had her steady, she pulled him against her, her arms tight bands around his waist. “You, too, Gabe.” She waved his brother over and pulled him close as well, the three of them leaning against each other for solace and support.
“You think this one’s going to make the news?” she asked, concerned about who saw their battle.
Gabe’s laugh was extra harsh. “No one saw us.”
She lifted her head at that. “No one? What good is having a hotel full of cameras if they don’t capture anything?”
“They capture what’s important.” Gabe leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead before turning on his heel. “Now I need to go see about buying breakfast for fifty.”
Gabe added one more hard hug for good measure before he headed for the casino at a swift clip.
Evangeline pulled Rafe close once more. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine. You’re the one who spent some time in Chaos’s proverbial freezer.”
“I knew I wouldn’t stay there.” Warmth filled the cheeks that had so recently been pale and lifeless and he’d have given anything to stay there and stare at her forever.
“Oh, no?”
“You had me. I knew you’d keep me safe.”
“But I didn’t. Not this morning.” He dropped his hands from where they caressed a path over her spine. “I hurt you this morning.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Aren’t you mad?”
“I was.” She pressed a kiss against his chin. “And then I realized I’d better get used to it. If you think a relationship between us isn’t going to be volatile and downright unpleasant at times, I figure we should both cut and run now.”
Rafe gazed down into the fathomless depths of her eyes. “You want to cut and run?”
“Nope.”
“Neither do I.”
Her smile shined up at him, a bright, warm benediction over their relationship. “I love you, Rafe.”
“I love you, too.”
He’d nearly had his lips on hers when her words stopped him. “Then come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“We have a tree to deal with.”
Rafe reached behind and hit the elevator button. “I don’t want to take it down.”
The doors slid open and Evangeline pulled him through them, her hands insistent and urgent as they played against his hips. “We’re not taking it down.”
“Then what are we doing with it?”
That warm, vibrant smile shifted, growing sexy as her eyes filled with all the secrets of the universe. “We’re going to have sex underneath it and get wrapped up in all that glitter you seem so determined to hate.”
Rafe pulled her against him, his lips pressed to hers. “I can’t think of a better way to spend the day.”
* * * * *
HEAT OF A HELIOS
Karen Whiddon
Dear Reader,
The lights and sounds of Vegas are familiar to me. It’s one of my favorite places to go for a long weekend. Being there, I can be someone I’m normally not. I stay up late and gamble my hard-earned money (okay, quarter slot machines are as high as I go, but still...). Over the years my husband and I have seen many shows there, eaten some fabulous, romantic dinners and come back with a lot less cash than we had when we left. Writing a story set in Las Vegas was a blast. Add in Christmas, my favorite time of the year, and I was in heaven, especially since we usually go in late November or early December.
The mythology of the Helios was new to me. Addison Fox and I exchanged a flurry of emails to decide what they were and did, and that was so much fun, as well. Greek men—tall, dark, handsome and mysterious—another yay! Plus I’ve always wanted to write a musical superstar, and the fact that she’s my hero’s opposite—okay, sworn enemy—made me laugh out loud. I loved writing this story and I’m grateful to the editor who challenged my own ideas and made them better—that’s Carly Silver.
I hope you enjoy the sizzling Heat of the Helios. And if you haven’t, visit Vegas. Just for the fun!
Karen Whiddon
Dedicated to Lonnie, my hubby and Las Vegas cohort. We’ve had a lot of fun there over the years, haven’t we?
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Excerpt from Immortal Billionaire by Jane Godman
Chapter 1
Meghan Frost. She’d been promised her name, surrounded by lights on one of the huge billboards on the Vegas Strip, her image flashing brightly so the throngs of tourists could stare. Though she’d reached the pinnacle of fame some time ago, this small thing had been something she’d always dreamed of and longed for. She couldn’t wait to see it, though right now all she wanted to do was pull her baseball cap a little lower over her eyes and pray no one recognized her once she landed.
Her new show, slated to start in a little over two weeks, would be thrilling. Every song, every move, had been perfected, practiced endlessly in a special studio in downtown Los Angeles. Now, she and her crew had time off for the holidays before rehearsal began again, this time on the actual stage at the Archangel.
The Archangel. The name made her shiver. If ever a place suited her image, the newest and edgiest casino and hotel on the Strip did. She’d been flattered when they’d offered her their first musical residency, and even more stunned when they hadn’t balked at her enormous fee.
Still, she hadn’t been entirely sure she wanted to do it. The mystery behind her enigmatic pop star image might peel away under the bright lights of Vegas.
Not so, her publicity people had argued. Even her agent, whom she trusted more than her own family, had advised her to take the three-month stint.
Now, contract signed, advance cashed and in the bank, she was flying in early to check out the hotel. The only one other than her own people who knew about her arrival was Gabriel Stavros, one of the two brothers who owned the Archangel.
He’d promised discretion. He’d also assured her that everything would be exactly as she’d stipulated. She’d thanked him, even though she had no idea what kind of ridiculous clauses her team might have put in her contract. Her two necessities, of course—a variety of tea bags and a teapot as well as a blender so she could make her protein shakes—and then whatever else Team Meghan thought appropriate for a musical superstar of her standing.
Whatever. In reality, she was the least diva-like of her peers. Of course her PR people might have asked for the moon made out of cream cheese, for all she knew.
Checking her watch, she glanced out the window of the private jet—sent by the Stavros brothers—and waited for her first sight of the lights of Sin City. While the loud flashiness of Vegas clashed with her innate quietness, she still found something magical in the way the Strip lit up at night. Performing was like that for her, too—the music and the energy of the audience lit her up from within.
There. Neon red and yellow, orange and blue, all competing with each other for attention. The Pyramid, one of the less brightly lit places, guarded one area, while the MGM Grand warred with the Bellagio, the Venetian and the Paris. A place for mindless fun, good to stay in for a few days, gambling and walking, eating and drinking, before heading back home to reality.
Smiling to herself, she watched as the jet approached the airport, her gaze fixed on the well-lit runway as they landed. Now on to the Archangel. Time to meet the Stavros brothers and check out her new, temporary home. She’d asked for a small Christmas tree, too, even though no one would see it but her.
Once more, the thought of being alone—again—at Christmas stung. Her family not only wasn’t big on human holidays, but even more important, there were certain times of the year when all they wanted to do was focus on the hunt.
December 21, the winter solstice, happened to be one of those times. Before Meghan had become famous, she’d let them drag her along, willing to participate in something she no longer believed in just to keep from being alone.
Now she used her career as an excuse, unable to keep from wishing, just once, that her family would choose being with her over the thrill of the ever-elusive hunt.
Not likely. Why should anything change now?
Stretching, she focused on preparing for the upcoming meeting. No sense in allowing herself a pity party, not when everything in her life had begun to come up roses.
This would be her first time meeting the Stavros brothers. All the details of her residency had been handled by her people and theirs. While she didn’t expect this to be much more than a few pleasantries and a handshake, since this entire thing was already a done deal, she still wanted to make a good impression.
So she’d chosen to wear something completely outside of her public and professional wheelhouse. No leather or lace; instead she wore a smoky-gray cowl-necked sweater and black leggings. She could only imagine the horrified reaction from her stylist if she were to find out. Luckily she wouldn’t. Meghan had given the other woman time off until after Christmas.
Finally disembarking the sleek jet, Meghan noted with relief the lack of a crowd. She’d asked that no press be made aware of her minivacation, even though she’d half expected her new employer to disregard that. The lack of flashbulbs going off in her face coaxed a second genuine smile
. She’d try to remember to thank the Stavros brothers for this small blessing.
It wasn’t that she abhorred publicity—she’d been around long enough to understand the necessity and the love/hate relationship most stars had with the press. But she’d been performing nonstop on a tour to promote her new album that had seemed endless, though it had only been three months. Right after the tour had ended, she’d plunged into rehearsals for this Vegas show, and she was thankful for the hard work of her team, especially the choreographers who’d put together an event worthy of all the hype.
Everyone had been sent home, told to enjoy the holidays and come back refreshed. Including Meghan. She’d need this time off to refill her creative well, to rebuild her energy so she could knock it out of the park on opening night.
And somehow during this time she had to figure out a way to keep from letting loneliness destroy her.
* * *
“Is everything ready?” Impatience riding him like banked embers about to burst into flame, Gabe Stavros made one last circuit to check the penthouse suite. He and his brother, Rafe, had been thrilled to offer the pop megastar Meghan Frost the first residency at the Archangel. She would be arriving that night, two weeks ahead of her show opening and just before the holidays. “Her people sent a list of her demands and I want to make sure we not only met them, but exceeded them.”
“Everything is in place,” Miguel Vargas, head of housekeeping, assured him. “Fresh flowers to be replenished daily. Her refrigerator is stocked, and we’ve made sure she has the requested blender and every variety of tea.”
Gabe nodded. He understood why Rafe had left the chore of greeting Meghan Frost to him. Of the two men, Rafe had less tolerance for spoiled, narcissistic women. Which, even though they’d never met her before, both men assumed Meghan Frost would be. She was a superstar, after all.
He checked his watch again, reining in his impatience. By now the private jet should have landed and Ms. Frost should be in the limousine on the way there.
Pacing, he strode to the balcony and slid open the doors. He just needed to exercise a little patience. Never one of his strong suits.