I have a feeling Damien has something else in mind.
I watch as Marcy stands by her luggage, her shoulders slumped.
A woman rushes by, bumping into her as she tries to roll an overnight case.
Marcy looks up, startled, as the woman grabs hold of her for balance. Then she pulls away and moves on down the drive.
“Wait,” I say. “Can you rewind that?”
“No need,” Damien says. “She slipped Marcy a note.”
“What’s it say?”
“When you get inside, use the ladies room.”
I frown—and I understand why Marcy, who is surreptitiously scanning the note, also looks confused.
“Now this,” Damien says, and we watch as one of the uniformed valet chiefs approaches Jay. “It turns out that Jay’s car has a flat tire. Very unfortunate timing,” he says, and I laugh. “So Jay and his companion will be invited to enjoy the hospitality in this VIP lounge while the tire is being changed.”
We watch as Jay and the valet have a heated conversation—well, heated from Jay’s side—and then the valet gestures toward the hotel. “That’s our cue,” Damien says. “Come on.”
“Our cue?” I ask, but I follow him to the back of the room and into the ladies lounge.
I lean against the wall and raise my eyebrows. “Really?”
He shrugs. “Trust me.”
I do. And less than two minutes later, Marcy steps through the door, her face flushed, obviously terrified that Jay is going to catch on.
“Nikki!” Her voice is a low, happy whisper, and she gives me a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. Everything you did for me, and I—”
“What happened?” I ask. “Why did you come back?”
She glances at Damien, then at me.
“Marcy, this is my husband, Damien Stark.”
“Oh! Well, thank you, too.”
“Nikki tells me she put you on the road to Texas. How did you end up back here?”
“He called,” she says. “And he said that if I didn’t get my fat ass back right that second—that’s a direct quote—he’d kill Chester.”
“Chester?” I ask.
“My dog,” she says. “He’s a rescued greyhound. Sweetest disposition, and such a hard life. And Jay just tossed that out there like—” She swallows and blinks back tears. “I had to come back.”
“Of course you did,” I say, though I’m secretly wishing that she would have called me. Damien could have easily sent someone to get the dog before Jay got home.
“I need to know if you want to leave again,” Damien says. “I can have someone go get your dog. Make sure he’s safe, and then get him to you in Texas.”
“You’d do that?”
“If it’s what you want.”
“Yes.” She nods, then takes a deep breath. “He—he hits me. I don’t want to ever see him again.”
Damien looks at her, his expression tender. Then he puts a hand on her shoulder. “Done.”
When we follow him back out to the lounge, I can see that Marcy is nervous. But Jay is nowhere to be found.
“Did the car get fixed?” I ask. “Did he leave?”
“He’s in one of the offices,” Damien says. “Having a chat with Ryan.”
“Oh.” I nod. “Good.”
“Come on,” he says to Marcy. “Let’s try this again.”
This time when her SUV disappears into the lights of the Strip, I don’t expect to see her again.
I stand for a moment with Damien’s arm around my waist, then I lean against his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he says.
He turns me, then kisses my forehead. “Go on back to your room,” he says. “Ryan and I will wrap this up.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to make sure he never bothers that girl again.”
I think of Damien, who works out so vigorously, and can still send a tennis ball hurtling over the net at incredible speeds.
And Ryan, with his mixed martial arts background that’s only been honed and refined during his years in private security.
I remember around Valentine’s Day when someone was threatening Jamie with racy photos. Ryan and Damien had tracked him down and put the fear of god in him. And more than a few bruises on him.
Yeah, I think, they’ll handle Jay just fine.
I nod. “Okay,” I say.
He brushes my cheek, then leans over to kiss me, soft and sweet. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promises, and though I am looking forward to being home with him, I can’t deny the weight of sadness that settles over me when I realize that I will not be seeing him tonight.
Chapter 10
I knock on Jamie’s bedroom door because I don’t want to be alone, but there is no answer. I wonder if she’s with Ryan, and the thought makes me a little jealous. Because right now I am most definitely not with Damien.
I consider calling the front desk to learn what room my husband is in, but I have a feeling that they have been instructed not to tell me. More than that, since he actually said goodbye, I can’t help but believe that our fantasy bubble has firmly shattered, and that he has returned to Los Angeles and our real life.
Which is fine. Great, actually. I love my life, and I want to go home.
I’d just been looking forward to tonight.
With a sigh, I decide to pack up my things. I’ll text Jamie and tell her to enjoy the limo on her own. Then I’ll take a taxi to the airport and grab the next flight back to LA. At least I’ll be able to spend the night with Damien in our bed.