I turn back and find two sets of confused eyes on me. There are questions on Gabriella’s lips, but she doesn’t voice them, quickly turning away when my brows arch in challenge. I guess we’re still not talking.
The ride up is spent in an awkward silence that even the attendant seems to notice, shifting her feet nervously, casting a discomfited glance between Gabriella and me. Whenthe elevator doors finally open, she can’t seem to get out fast enough. I step out into a hallway that seems to stretch forever. The air is thick with expensive perfume and the faint hum of low music. We follow the attendant, footsteps echoing softly on the plush carpet as we make our way to our suite.
When she opens the door, I step in first to make sure it’s empty. The room is a masterpiece of modern luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the glittering Las Vegas Strip. The lights of the casinos and hotels stretch out before me in a dazzling wash of color and movement. I walk to the windows, drawn by the spectacle of the city below, a different kind of chaos from the one back home.
“Wow,” Gabriella says from behind me, and I turn around to find her taking it all in. Coming from someone born into incredible wealth, I find it amusing that she’s impressed by the minimalistic but modern and plush furnishings. I follow her eyes to the table, where a large bouquet of flowers sits, before they move slowly to the single king-sized bed that dominates the room. “There’s one bed.”
“Pardon?”
Gabriella whips around to the attendant. “There is one bed, but there are two of us,” she says with a hint of panic in her voice. “I called last week to book an extra room or be upgraded to a two-room suite.”
The attendant’s brows draw together, and I watch as she checks her iPad before shaking her head, finger hovering over the screen. “No, this is the correct room. The contest organizers were in charge of making the reservation, and this is the room they reserved. Let me see…nope. There was no update requesting another room.”
“W-what? But I made the call, and they assured me there was a room available,” she says, confused. “Can you check again? Or just book us another room now?.”
Silence descends as the attendant scrolls through her iPad, and part of me is hoping there isn’t a room available. The thought of being in another room away from Gabriella doesn’t sit right—neither does the thought of thefaceless man sneaking into her room, or her sneaking out to meet him. If there were another room, I’d be forced to camp outside hers all night anyway.
“I’m sorry, Miss Rossi. Unfortunately, we don’t have any rooms available,” the attendant says, her apology sounding genuine. “We have several major events happening this weekend, and the hotel, as well as most others in the city, are fully booked. I’m afraid you’re not going to find additional accommodation this weekend.”
Gabriella turns to me, panic clear on her face. I doubt she planned on sharing a room with me, and I manage to keep my elation off my face as I thank the attendant and usher her out before Gabriella can protest. I close the door, and when I turn back, I find her pacing the room, visibly distressed.
She’s gorgeous.
Gabriella Rossi is quite easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and as I watch her, the world seems to fade away, leaving only her in sharp focus. Her skin glows warm and soft, her lips full and inviting. Her dark hair swings around her shoulders as she paces, catching the evening light and shimmering as though it has a life of its own. It’s a shade that reminds me of rich, dark chocolate, and I find myself wanting to reach out and run my fingers through it. My eyes drop lower—a short denim skirt that hugs her curves perfectly and a white topthat traces her figure, from the swell of her breasts down to the dip of her waist.
And Christ, I want her.
On that bed, those long sexy legs wrapped around my hips, crying out my name as I drive my cock into her. I want to feel her lips against mine, her body trembling on my lap as it did two weeks ago. My name on her lips as I touch her in places the faceless man never will.
Mine.
“I’ll take the couch.” My voice comes out rough and low, stopping her in her tracks. I push my desire down and focus on the matter at hand. “I’ll be close enough to protect you, and the couch keeps you from feeling uncomfortable about sharing the bed.”
“Don’t be foolish, Nico. The couch is too small for someone of your size.”
“Then I will sleep on the floor, problem solved.”
“No, it’s not!” she argues, turning to the bed, and I see a flush color her cheeks. “There has got to be another solution. Maybe I could call Matteo and ask him to pull some strings. He must know people in this city who could get us an extra room.”
“I know everyone Matteo does,” I remind her. And while a single call from the official don of one of the largest Italian mafia families in New York City could set people scrambling to find us a room, that is not what I want. “Getting us a room would mean taking one from someone else.”
The truth of that has Gabriella biting her bottom lip. “Fine, I’ll figure something out,” she says, looking around. “Aha, I know just what to do!”
I lean against the wall and watch as Gabriella gathers spare pillows and uses them to build a barrier on the bed. I try and fail not to look when her skirt slides up those sexy legs to flash a hint of red underneath. My cock hardens instantly, my body flooding with desire. It takes everything in me not to walk to her, push the denim the rest of the way up, and touch her in all the ways I’ve been fantasizing about.
Goddamnit!
How can she not see how much I want her? How does she not realize that she seduces me just by existing? Even I don’t have that good of a poker face— especially not here, where it’s just the two of us, and every guard I have is down.
I only raise an eyebrow when she looks at me.
“We don’t have a choice, do we?” she says, working on her pillow fort, completely missing the heat in my eyes. “I don’t feel good about you sleeping on the floor or cramming yourself onto that tiny couch with a bed this big in the room.” It’s a dangerous idea but I don’t discourage her. I want to share a bed with Gabriella. I’m not convinced the pillow wall will hold, but I let her believe in it. When she’s done, she climbs off the bed to inspect her work, pleased with herself. “Yeah, that works.”
It doesn’t but I don’t say anything.
“You must be tired,” I say instead. “You can have the bathroom first, and I’ll order us dinner. I need to make a call.”
I wait until she’s in the bathroom to call Matteo and give him an update, choosing to omit the minor detail that his sister and I are going to be sharing a bed. I don’t imagine that would go over well. We chat about work, and I’m still on the call when Gabriella comes out of the bathroom in an oversized sleep shirt. I try not to stare or let my mind wander as she climbs into bed and starts tapping on her phone.