Shaking off the strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, I finish changing out my bag then leave the room and make my way through the casino and into the lobby. Not finding Dillon inside, I head outside to the area the cabs and limos pick up and drop off, and spot him standing with a group of people. I’m not surprised he’s surrounded by a gaggle of women and a couple of men. He tends to draw attention wherever he goes, and it’s something else that annoys me. I hate being the center of attention, and I don’t really like people who need it to feel important. Needing a minute to get my head together, I stop a few feet away and tuck my clutch under my arm.
"Where you going, gorgeous? ‘Cause wherever it is, I’m there," a drunk guy, who can’t be much older than twenty-one, slurs, stumbling up to me. His clothes are rumpled, his hair in disarray, and if he wasn’t such a mess, he’d be cute. But sadly, sloppy drunk works for no one.
Ignoring him, I untuck my purse, open it, and pull out my cell phone, knowing better than to engage with men like him in his current state.
"So you’re to good for me?" he slurs, snatching my cell out of my hand, and my eyes fly up.
"Give me my phone," I say evenly, holding out my hand, and his eyes travel the length of me and his face scrunches up.
"Ho here thinks she’s too good for me."
"Mike, come on. Give her the phone and let’s go," someone says off to the side, but I keep my eyes on Mike, with my palm out toward him. My dad insisted I take martial arts with Jax when I was little. I hated it; I wanted to be a ballerina, not a ninja, but he was adamant about me being able to protect myself. Over the years, the skills I learned back then have come in handy, like now, when all I really want to do is kick the crap out of Mike but know better. One of the first things I was forced to learn was control, to never lose my temper. The second thing I learned was to keep my eyes on my enemy at all times. I was never really good at either, but I still got a black belt in the end.
"Mike," I say softly, taking a step toward him. "I’m going to ask you nicely, once, to give me my phone. If you don’t, I swear to God I will unleash the Kraken, kick your ass in front of your friends, and send you home crying to your mother."
Laughing, he looks around then his eyes widen as they move behind me. I really, really want to know what he’s looking at, but I refuse to turn my head and give in.
"Give her the phone." The deep rumble of Dillon’s voice sends a chill down my spine. I’ve only heard him pissed a few times, and I know he’s pissed right now without even looking at him.
"I… I… w-was just playin’ man," Mike stutters out, tossing my phone toward me. Missing my hands and causing my phone to crash to the ground, and my nostrils to flare as it shatters at my feet.
"Oh, shit. Oh, Christ. I’m sorry." He drops to his knees and begins gathering the pieces of what used to be my phone then tries to get up, but falls face forward into my crotch, causing me to stumble back.
"I can’t believe this shit," Dillon grumbles, catching me before I fall, then tugs me out of the way as Mike’s friends decide to finally step in and pick him up from the ground. "You had to wear that outfit."
"You can not be serious right now?" I hiss, swinging my head back and finding him glaring down at me.
"Deadly."
"Let me go." I try to get free, but his hand on my waist tightens as his eyes leave mine. Swinging my head in the other direction, I find one of Mike’s friends standing a few feet away with my phone, looking anywhere but at us, and Mike off to the side, puking in a trashcan.
"Let me go," I repeat, and his arm tightens for a moment before he finally lets me loose. I really want to scream or throw a fit, but instead, I calmly take my clutch and open it, holding it out toward the guy and letting him dump the now useless pieces inside. "You need to get him some Gatorade and toast," I tell him, nodding toward Mike.
"Um, yeah sure. Than…" his words taper off, and the smile that was forming on his lips slides away as he looks over my shoulder. Rolling my eyes, I watch him turn quickly and go to Mike to help carry him away, feeling Dillon get close once more.
"Limo’s waiting," he mutters, placing his hand against my lower back, making me tense.
"I’m not going." I try to step away, but his hand slides around my waist, bringing my side into his middle.
"You are."
"I’m not."
"You are," he growls, leaning forward, close… way too close.
"Fine, you want me there? I’ll go, but just so you know, I plan on getting completely wasted, so you have just become my chaperone for the evening."
"You’re not getting drunk."
"Wasted, not drunk. And you better make sure I don’t do anything stupid." I pat his chest, ignoring his flashing eyes. With that, I step out of his grasp and start toward the line of limos then turn to look over my shoulder at him, realizing I have no clue which one to go to.
Smirking, he crosses his arms over his chest and raises a brow. "What’s wrong, blondie? Confused?" His mocking tone and the look of triumph in his eyes does it. I turn on my heels and head to one of the limos with the driver standing outside leaning against it. The moment the driver spots me coming in his direction, his back leaves the car and his eyes rake over me, making my teeth snap together.
"Can I help you, Miss?"
"Ashlyn Mayson, get your ass back here," Dillon snarls behind me, making my palm itch to smack him.
"I’m sorry, pumpkin. I thought you said this was our limo." I fake pout, turning to look at him and tossing my head to the side for good measure.
"Christ, you drive me fucking insane." He walks to where I’m standing, tagging my hand, and then starts to drag me with him, grumbling under his breath.
"You know all I want in this whole wide world is to make you happy, pumpernickel," I whine, batting my lashes while watching his jaw tic.
Leading me toward another limo with a driver holding the back door open, he growls, "Behave."
"I swear I’ll be your good girl from now on if you don’t spank me," I stage-whisper, and his hand spasms in mine as a smirk forms on his lips.
"You don’t behave, I’ll bend you over and tan your ass right here." His words ring through my ears, making my insides liquid, and then I hear the sound of a male chuckle as I’m gently forced into the back seat of the dark limo before I can reply.
"You’re such a jerk," I hiss, adjusting my skirt as I move across the leather seats.
"You started the show we put on. I just ended it," he mutters, sitting down across from me and unbuttoning his suit jacket.
"You started it with the whole ‘blondie’ thing." I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.
"Can we not do this tonight? Can we get along for one damn evening?"
"You tell me. I’m not the one who’s bossy and annoying all the damn time."
"No, you’re just crazy."
"Crazy?" I snort, and his lips twitch ever so slightly. "I’m not crazy."
"Babe, you told that kid you were going to unleash the Kraken on him then went on to tell his friends to get him Gatorade and toast. You’re the definition of crazy."
He may have a point, but instead of agreeing with him, I turn my head to look out the window and watch the city of Las Vegas slide by.