LOVE AND HATE (A Billionaire Romance) (5 page)

What had I gotten myself into?

We cut through the masses of people like a targeted missile. The sun disappeared behind the mountains to the west, and the strip became beautiful in the dark. Thousands of voices, mostly laughing, rose to the sky. Color and flashing lights and sounds filled the night. The strip reminded me of our county fairs, but that was a fleeting, temporal thing, where in comparison Las Vegas was eternal. I lagged behind, admiring the Eiffel Tower at Paris and the Roman sculpture of Caesar’s palace. The temperature fell when the sun went down, and a pleasantly cool breeze blew over us. Scott reached for my hand, and I let him take it. I didn’t want to be separated from him in the masses of drunk, happy people. He slowed for me, looking around at the places I looked. I wished I didn’t like the intimacy, how special holding his hand felt. Dammit, he was business.

We cut between two of the casinos, heading back to the part of the city I’d mentioned earlier, where it’s not all pretty, flashy and tourist-ready, away from the façade of Las Vegas. I have to admit, nervousness filled me. Scott walked me to what looked like a warehouse, no sign, no advertising, and opened the door for me like a gentleman.

Muted, thumping music played inside the building. The bass was heavy. I imagined the dancers gyrating and pumping to the music. I hesitated in the cool night. I should probably go back to my room. Call it a night. I was pretty tired. It was one thing to keep this going for a few days to appease my boss, but a strip club? Then again, it had been my idea.

He sensed my hesitation. “You said you’d never been. This is the best club in Las Vegas. Maybe the world.” Scott chewed on the thought for a bit. “Yeah, the world. We’ll go in, have a drink, check it out, then we can hit the road.”

“Okay. Just a drink.”

“Honestly, if you want to bounce before then, let me know. Or if you don’t want to go in, that’s fine, too. Whatever you want, Mackenzie.” He wore such an earnest expression, I couldn’t help but smile at him.

“One drink will be fine.”

Beige carpet and a reception desk flanked by potted plants reminded me more of my local Penske rental office than what I’d imagined a strip club would look like. A modestly dressed but very attractive woman sat at the desk.

“Mr. Creed, good evening.” Jesus, the strippers knew my husband by name here. “And good evening to you, Miss.”

“How are you tonight, Ambrosia?” My husband knew the strippers by name, too. Awesome.

Ambrosia moved to a nondescript green door and opened it for us. Here was the strip club like I’d imagined: loud music, flashing lights, etc. I noticed Ambrosia’s shoes—her heels had to be about five inches high. I couldn’t even imagine. Next to her, so sleek and polished, I felt unbelievably frumpy. I couldn’t go in there and watch those beautiful women dancing.

“Scott…” my voice trailed off as Ambrosia studied me. I girded my loins and followed him into the dark room. He led me to a booth and slid in after me. My eyes felt as big as dinner plates as I looked around the room. Two girls danced on a stage, and I was surprised by the amount of clothing they wore. I mean, they were strippers, for sure, but everything was covered.

A girl in a bikini trotted up to our table and set a drink menu in front of us. I wasn’t super pumped to imbibe, but I needed it. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be staring at the monstrous globes of her breasts or not. Her bikini was lime green, glowing in the black lights. Straps covered her nipples, but not much else. “Tequila shot?” I asked.

Scott gave me a look. “Again?”

“Just the one. Corona chaser, please?”

“Make it two.”

“Sure thing!” She bounced away, so perky. The lime green G-string left nothing to the imagination.

“She’s not a stripper,” Scott said.

“She’s… not?”

“She’s a waitress. Different pay scale.”

“How can you tell them apart?”

“I know them all.”

“Is that weird?”

“Do you know your barista?”

I did know my barista. He was the best and always knew what I wanted before I ordered. I saw Scott’s point, but… “I don’t see my barista’s cock.”

“Would you like to?”

I blushed and hoped Scott didn’t notice. He reached out and touched my cheek. He totally noticed. Keenan, my barista, was about twenty-one and probably spent every second he wasn’t at Starbucks at the gym. There was a chance he might be gay, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes think about him when I spent some quality time with my bullet vibrator.

“This is a safe place to have all the sexy thoughts you want,” Scott murmured. “It’s okay if it makes you horny. Or not. Whatever you feel, goes.”

“Does it make you horny?”

“Honestly, at this point, it takes more than some tits in my face to get me fired up. I think the female form is beautiful, and I love to watch it, but I’m not like some of the guys here.” He paused a moment, swiveled his head to take in the scene. A few tables over, a beautiful blonde girl gyrated on a man wearing a cowboy hat. She plucked it from his head and put it on her own before pulling the string on her bikini top and setting her breasts free. “I think what would turn me on most tonight would be knowing you were enjoying yourself.”

On stage, the music changed, and one of the girls unbuttoned her top. The other one slapped her hand away and used her mouth to attack the buttons. It was only 9:30, so the club wasn’t busy. I could imagine the place packed, and there was room on the stage for a lot more women.

The shirt fell away to reveal a see-through, red lace bra, and Miss Green Bikini came back with our drinks.

“Cheers,” I said after she’d set them down and left.

Scott picked up his shot and groaned. “I’m too old for this shit.” He clinked the shot glass against mine, and we downed the liquor. It burned and sloshed in my stomach. Goosebumps popped up on my arms. I bit into my lime to subdue down the taste. The Corona washed it all down. But the tequila hit me harder and faster than I’d expected. Probably because I hadn’t eaten, well, anything today.

“Do you want a lap dance?” Scott asked.

“Um,” I said.

He waved over one of the girls. She was Asian, and her shiny black shoes made her incredibly tall.

“This lovely lady has never been to a strip club before. Can you give her a little something special?”

“Anything for you, Mr. Creed,” she teased. She wore a short denim skirt and a tight white t-shirt over bouncing, augmented breasts. I mean, they had to be fake, right? Her nipples were brown half dollars.

What did something special mean? I wasn’t sure I was ready for something special. Scott gently guided me out of the booth to a chair placed specifically for this purpose. The woman threw a leg over me. She was so close, I could smell her skin under her perfume.

“I’m Mackenzie.” It seemed only polite to introduce myself to the woman who straddled me. What would Lucas think of me being here?

“Jade.” Of course her name was Jade. I wondered what her real name was as she started to gyrate over me.

I’d be lying if I said the lap dance didn’t turn me on, but I was also super relieved when it ended. I’m sure I was the worst customer ever, sitting stock still with a deer-in-the-headlights expression as the shirt came off and her breasts rubbed against my face. I didn’t know if I was allowed to touch. Did I want to touch? I could feel her wetness on my leg through her thin panties. All sorts of thoughts battled and conflicted in my head. I liked it—did that mean I was a lesbian? No, surely being turned on by something in such a sexy environment was totally normal. Also, I had to wonder if Jade was here because she wanted to be, or was this her last stop before the poor house? Was there a little Jade at home who needed to eat? I hadn’t seen any stretch marks.

I was very, very aware that I was thinking way too much. I wished I was the kind of girl who could simply relax and get down with it. Counterpoint: if we’d done this last night with the amount I drank, I’d totally have been down. Last night, apparently, I was down for anything.

“Let’s get out of here,” Scott said.

“You’re not going to get one?”

“Nah. You look a little over-stimulated.” His voice was teasing, but he was right.

If only I was the kind of girl who could make friends with Jade, get her to open up, and maybe have her show me a few moves. Nope. I sat with the least sexy expression of stupefied wonder on my face.

Against my better judgement, I didn’t want to say goodnight to Scott. I was tired, though, and the thought of drinking anything else made me want to ralph. Again. “Where are we going?”

His genuine smile touched me more than I expected it to. I’d made him happy. “I don’t know about you, but I’m in the mood for someplace quiet. I can’t handle too much more of the crowds and the loud.”

“You read my mind.” Now I was smiling, too.

“Do you want to come back to my suite?”

Scott

Mackenzie hesitated. I’d blown it by asking her back to the room. I wanted her badly, which was a new sensation for me. Usually when I say jump, women bat their eyelashes, ask how high, and tell me how handsome and funny I am on the way up. Mackenzie wasn’t like that, which intoxicated me. Plus, watching her under Jade’s lap dance drove me wild. I debated ducking into the bathroom to relieve pressure, but it seemed crass. I had to suck it up and enjoy the blueness of my balls.

I consoled myself: The evening had gone far better than I thought it might, though neither one of us had acknowledged, out loud, that we were legally married. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to walk her back to Linq, tell her goodnight, and plan to meet her Monday to get the marriage annulled.

She took a deep breath, and I steeled myself for reality to come crashing back down. “Sure, I’ll come up for a bit.”

Whoa. I hadn’t expected that at all. I played it cool. “Great. Let’s bounce.”

“Don’t you have to settle up?”

“It’s all taken care of.” I was a VIP at the Pearl and hadn’t done anything tonight above and beyond my membership.

“Must be nice,” she murmured.

“What must be?”

“To never have to think about money.”

“It is.” I couldn’t lie. I dimly remembered my parents fighting about finances when I was a kid. Then dad struck gold—metaphorical gold, in the dot-com bubble—and sold at the right time. Our path was set from then on. “I mean, let me give you some context. I’m always thinking about money. I’m just not worried about running out of it. But it’s always on my mind. How to breed it, grow it, keep it.” And how to keep most of our fortune away from my sister, Serena.

We headed to the lobby and out past Ambrosia. She blew us a kiss, and I waved goodbye. The Pearl was her establishment, and she did her damnedest to make it a respectable place. A fine upstanding businesswoman, that one.

The little alley was dark and quiet, and I wondered what would happen if I tried to kiss Mackenzie here. She leaned against me as we walked, which seemed like a good sign. I didn’t want to do it out on the strip, in the sea of tourists. I didn’t worry that we’d be seen, fret about PDA, anything like that. I just wanted the kiss to be more special than that. Something between us. Then I’d get the ball rolling on the annulment. Once I got back in New York, I’d look up Giuliana.

I stopped her as we walked. She put her hands out dramatically, as though she were trying to keep her balance. She was funny.

“I would really like to kiss you right now,” I told her quietly.

The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile, and her cheeks flushed pink. She looked away, and without thinking, wet her hips with her tongue, which did not lessen my desire.

“Okay.”

I leaned in. We had kissed last night—probably at a church in front of a… minister? Justice of the peace? Who knew? We’d done a whole lot more than kiss, but I couldn’t remember any of it. So kissing Mackenzie Taylor in the alley outside the Pearl was essentially our first kiss.

She was stiff and nervous at first. Our lips met, and hers stayed closed. She kissed back, but I could tell she wasn’t into it. I pulled away.

Annulment, ho!

She reached out, caught the collar of my shirt, and pulled me back to her. Our lips met again, and I could feel warmth radiating from her. Her mouth stayed closed, but the kiss was like kindling with tiny flames of passion hungrily lapping at it. We broke apart, headed to the strip and back to the Bellagio. The fountain show was just starting as we arrived, so we lingered to watch the music, the lights, and the water.

“I can’t get enough of these fountains,” she confessed. “I feel like I could watch them forever.” She stood in front of me and leaned back against me. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. I could feel the swell of her breasts and hoped I didn’t get a hard-on against her back. It wouldn’t fit my dignified image at all.

Before the show ended, she took my hand and led me up the winding path towards the doors of the hotel. We cut through the swath of people. All kinds of people. Folks in my tax bracket stood shoulder to shoulder with people who probably couldn’t afford to be here. The fountains were beautiful, though, and it didn’t matter who you were or what your background was, you couldn’t help getting lost in them.