Shattered Dreams (Vegas Dreams Book 2) (8 page)

Gideon looked at Terrence. “What do you say we take them outside and teach them both a lesson?”

“Oh, come on man,” Short Stack One said. “We were just messin’ around. We didn’t mean anything.”

“Apologize to the ladies,” Gideon said. “Now.”

A half-hearted apology was offered, one which Terrence and Gideon both rejected. The Short Stacks tried again. The second time around, both boys mustered up all the sincerity they had in them. Apology delivered, they were ushered from the club, and banned from ever returning again.

It turned out Terrence Knight was also one of Gideon’s clients. And to make up for the mistreatment I’d received, we were all given unlimited rounds on the house. Unfortunately, it was late. Rae, Kenna, and Callie decided they’d seen enough action and called it a night.

“Sorry to steal her from you,” Rae said. “But it’s time for this one to go home too.”

“I don’t mind giving her a ride,” Gideon said.

They turned to me for a final verdict, but I’d only been half listening. “Go ahead. He can take me home.”

“Are you
sure
?” Rae asked.

“Yes, go. I’m fine.”

Rae whispered something into Gideon’s ear, then requested an Uber, leaving the two of us to cap off the night alone. I had one more drink, a concoction Terrence had suggested, then reclined back on one of the clubs sofas in a private back room. I looked at Gideon. “You talking to me or what? Let’s do this.”

I squeezed my eyes open and shut, realizing the room had started spinning.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yep,” I said. “Yes I am, and I’m ready to talk. Ready Freddie.”

He slung an arm around my shoulders. “How many drinks have you had tonight?”

I uttered the word “five,” but realized I was only holding up three fingers. Perhaps it wasn’t such a great time for a conversation, not the one I imagined he wanted to have anyway.

“Why don’t I take you home?” he suggested.

“I don’t want to go home yet.”

“What would you like to do then?”

I pressed a finger into his chest. “You. I want to go to your house.”

“How about I take you home, and you can come to my house tomorrow?”

“Not tomorrow,” I said. “Tonight.”

“This isn’t
your
house,” I blurted.

The house I found myself in wasn’t a house at all—it was a condo.

“Remember earlier when I told you I was staying at a place by my office?” Gideon spread his hands. “This is it.”

I didn’t remember. I nodded anyway.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked.

“What are my options?”

“Water.”

I laughed. Was he kidding?

He frowned. He wasn’t.

“Why would I want
water
?”

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” he said.

“I’ll thank you
now
.”

I couldn’t look at him without remembering how good it had felt to be in his arms earlier, his hands just starting to explore before we were interrupted. I unzipped the side of my dress, watched it slink to the ground. I kicked it to the side and tiptoed over to him.

“Why don’t you finish what you started earlier?” I teased.

I grabbed for his shirt, but it slipped through my fingers, like it had been coated in butter.

Gideon stepped back. “Sasha, hang on a minute. Okay?”

What was he doing?

Didn’t he want this?

No, no, no. I’m being rejected. I’m ACTUALLY being rejected.  

“I thought you wanted this,” I said.

“You’re all I want, all I think about, ever since the first day we met at the hospital.”

“I don’t get it then. What’s the problem?”

His eyes shifted downward, but he wasn’t focused on my chest. He was looking at my wounds, the scars that remained from Damon’s knife. He’d seen the photos used in court, but this was the first time he’d seen them in the flesh. Seeing them in real life probably made a difference. I felt embarrassed, like a dented car no one wanted when they could buy an undamaged one instead.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted.

“No, Sasha. You have nothing to be sorry for, and you don’t ever need to apologize to me.”

Too late.

I pressed the tips of my fingers onto the side of my face, wished my dress was still covering my body. “My head is throbbing. I don’t feel so good.”

A glass of water appeared in his hand like he’d pulled it out of thin air. He set it down on the dresser behind him. He reached into a dresser drawer, removed a shirt, bunched it up, and slipped it over my head. “Here, put this on.”

I was too tired to argue. He handed me a white pill. I didn’t bother asking what it was—I took it, swallowed several gulps of water, and resisted the urge to throw up. My feet were dangling in the air, and it occurred to me I was no longer standing on the ground. Gideon was carrying me in his arms. It was the first time any man had ever carried me that way. Damon had never bothered to do anything that made me feel special.

Looking back now, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

When it came to Damon, I’d always been alone.

I woke curled into the fetal position in a corner of a really big bed under about ten layers of blankets. The room I was in was sparse, to say the least. It had stark, tan walls, a single dresser, and the mattress I was on. Nothing else.

My head hurt. My eyes hurt. Hell, it
all
hurt. I looked around, tried to get my bearings, but I didn’t recognize the bedroom I was in. I peeled the covers back and looked down at the green, four-leaf-clover T-shirt I was wearing, and then I realized where I was—at Gideon’s place. I walked to the window, pushed the curtains aside, and looked out, finding myself on a very high level of a building, possibly a hotel.

I vaguely recalled a conversation I’d had with Rae the night before, sometime after I left Gideon’s house. I couldn’t recall the finer details, but visual images of Hollywood A-list actor Terrence Knight kept running through my mind.

Too afraid to tiptoe out of the bedroom I was in, I tried for answers a simpler way. I removed my cell phone from the bed and texted Rae. She responded within seconds, filling in the details from the previous night.

I tossed my phone to the side and looked around, now noticing a glass of water resting on top of the dresser, along with two pieces of toast. I walked over, tried a piece of the toast, soon realizing my body wasn’t ready for food just yet. From the other side of the bedroom door, I heard something. Breathing.

“I can hear you,” I stated.

“It’s Gideon.” He poked his head in. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you’re up.”

“I need to go home. My kids were having a sleepover last night, but they need to be picked up.”

He was dressed like he was due in court. “Now?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Rae picked up the kids already. She told me to tell you she’s taking them for a play date today, so there’s no rush.”

She did, did she?

“I’m not sure what happened last night, or how I ended up in what I assume is your shirt, but I’d like to forget it. All of it.”

“Everything? Are you sure?”

He stifled a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Do you even remember coming here last night?”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t, do you?”

“Why does it matter?” I laughed. “It’s not like we had sex or anything.”

I may have spoken too hastily. I considered the facts.

One, my clothes were nowhere in sight.

Two, I was wearing his shirt and nothing else.

One plus one did equal a possible escapade.

I covered my mouth with a hand. “Did we do anything last night?”

“It’s a good thing we didn’t,” he winked. “I might be offended if you didn’t remember.”

“It’s all a bit foggy. I’m not even sure how I got here.”

Gideon gave me the highlights, running down the last twelve hours.

“Why did you come to the club after I left your house?” I asked.

“You were angry when you left. I wanted to talk, clear the air if I could.”

“I don’t remember us talking about anything. Did we?”

“We did not.”

“Do you want to talk now?”

“I have a meeting, or I would.” He walked over, pressed a silver key into the palm of my hand. It dangled from a leather keychain that had the words “Porsche” embossed on it. “There’s a car parked out front. Use it to get home. I’ll arrange to have it picked up later. In the bottom drawer of the dresser, there are some gym shorts. They might drown you, but they’re all I have.”

He backed away.

“You’re leaving?” I asked. “Now?”

“I’m sorry. I’d like to stay. There is one thing you should take advantage of before you go though.”

“What?”

He held out his hand. “I’ll show you.”

We walked down a flight of stairs and into a bathroom tucked at the end of a long hall.

“The best thing about this place is the tub.”

What he called a tub looked to me like a miniature grotto. I reached out, running a hand over the rough, tan exterior. It felt like hardened sand. Gideon leaned down, pressed a button on the wall. Pale-blue light filtered down from the ceiling. “This button controls the lights, the other buttons control the jets. And you’re welcome to stay and soak in it as long as you like.”

I didn’t know exactly what to say, so I said, “Thanks.”

“My chef made your breakfast. It’s in the kitchen.”

“You’re leaving me here with your chef?”

“He came earlier. He’s not here anymore. You have the place to yourself. You won’t be bothered.”

Too bad.

I was breaking into a sweat just looking at Gideon.

“If you’re available tonight, I’d like to take you to dinner,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Six o’clock?”

“Okay.”

My nerves had taken over, making the word “okay” the only audible sound I seemed capable of making. It was time for him to leave, and all I could do was fantasize about how much better the bath would be with him in it.

I raised Gideon’s shirt over my head and dipped a toe into a little slice of piping-hot heaven. Sitting with my knees in a crisscross position in front of me, I submerged myself, remaining there until I was forced to pop my head above the surface to ingest a steamy breath of air.

I floated to the opposite end of the tub. Carved chairs made of stone flanked both sides. I scooted my body onto one and reclined back, finding a series of buttons to play with on the armrest. I pressed each one. The first two ignited jets, shooting water in all directions beneath the surface. The third showered water down from needle-sized holes in the ceiling. I basked in it, feeling like I was under a waterfall in a tropical rainforest. 

I glanced down at my scars, and it stirred up a memory I’d forgotten from the night before of me standing before Gideon. Naked. I gasped so loud it echoed throughout the room, and I was grateful no one had been there to hear me. The way I remembered it now, I’d thrown myself at someone who didn’t want me. I offered, and he refused. I imagined my scars repulsed him. He’d probably only been nice to me that morning out of pity for my situation and because he didn’t want to disappoint his pal and my friend’s boyfriend, Richard.