The Pact (Winslow Brothers #2)(6)

“I’m up five hundred.”

He jolts his head back. “You’re up five hundred on fucking slot machines?”

“Well, technically, I broke even on this addictive buffalo game, but apparently, I was so entertaining while playing, a random stranger gave me a five-hundred-dollar chip.”

“A random stranger?” he questions. “Girl, tell me he’s tall, dark, and handsome with a big cock and you got his number.”

“Technically, he was tall, medium-brown, and handsome. His hair was a little on the lighter side.”

“And the cock?”

“Shoot.” I snap my fingers. “I knew I forgot something. It totally slipped my mind to have him drop his pants so I could take a look.”

Damien grins. “Did you at least get his number? Any man who’s willing to cough up money because he thinks you’re entertaining shows some serious sugar-daddy potential.”

“Oh my God!” I exclaim on a giggle. “I don’t want a sugar daddy.”

“I do.”

“Damien, I hate to break it to you, but you are the sugar daddy.”

“You think Mateo is just using me for my money?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Dame, you’re handsome. But your boyfriend is a twenty-five-year-old Brazilian model with the prettiest face and tightest ass I’ve ever seen.”

He winks. “He has a big cock too.”

“TMI!” I cough on my own saliva. “TMI!”

“Don’t be such a prude, Dais.” Damien just laughs and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Now go get yourself a drink and enjoy the party.”

And then he’s off, doing his usual Damien-thing of schmoozing and impressing everyone in the room. I swear, I’ve never met anyone like him. Successful, hilarious, insanely fashionable, and sophisticated, yet he’s unapologetically himself.

It’s the kind of confidence and contentment that only come with age and wisdom and experience. I wish I could bottle it up and add it to my daily vitamin regimen.

The bar in my sights, I head on over and snag a glass of the complimentary champagne that sits out for everyone in attendance. Glass to my lips, I take a sip and enjoy the odd sensation of bubbles tickling my throat as it slides down into my belly.

“Daisy Diaz.” A familiar male voice fills my ears, and I turn to find Duncan Jones striding toward me with his signature smile etched across his lips. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

I lift my glass in the air and offer a neutral smile. “Well, I’m here.”

“And I’m glad.” He pulls me into a friendly hug, and it lingers about five seconds longer than I would deem appropriate. “I’m hoping you’ll finally let me take you to dinner this weekend.”

“Considering it’s already Saturday night, and Damien and Thomas have plenty planned for this evening and all day tomorrow, I’m thinking you’re going to have to take a rain check.”

Ever since Damien hired me, one of his most successful agents, Duncan Jones, has been heavy on the flirtation and charm in an attempt to get me to go out with him.

He’s not bad-looking or anything. Blond hair, blue eyes, and an attractive face, Duncan is incredibly eligible in his bachelordom, but dating isn’t something I’m focused on at the moment.

I’m open to the idea, but I’m not looking for just any guy to fill the time. I’m waiting for the guy who makes me make the time.

Some might say I’m too picky, but personally, I think it’s more about timing. And now isn’t the right time. I’m only twenty-nine, and my career goals are far more important to me than finding someone to settle down with.

Not to mention, several of my female coworkers let me know from day one that Duncan Jones is like this with all the women in the firm. Which, to me, only gives off red flags and stay-away vibes.

“Really? A rain check?” His lips crest into a confident smirk. “And when do I get to cash in my rain check?”

I shrug cheekily. “I don’t know.”

He grins and reaches out to slide a rogue piece of my hair behind my ear. “One day soon, you’re going to let me take you to dinner. And I promise, you won’t be dis—” He pauses midsentence when the sound of his cell ringing urges him to pull it out of his jacket pocket. One finger in the air toward me, he says, “Hold that thought. I need to take this real quick.”

I kind of want to roll my eyes at the obnoxiously oblivious contradiction between his rabid pursuit and his inability to finish even a sentence without prioritizing me behind his call, but I just offer a small smile and nod as Duncan steps away to a quieter spot in the crowd. Frankly, it’s a relief to be rid of him for a little while.

I make a point to wander away inconspicuously while he’s busy talking LA real estate with whoever is on the other end of the line, but I only get a few steps toward the table filled with appetizers when my phone vibrates in my purse and grabs my attention.

Gwen: How is Vegas, darling?

I’ve known Gwendolyn Ross since I was a fifteen-year-old lifer in the foster care system and she took me in. She’s pretty much the only family I have, but she’s more of a best friend than a mother figure. Still, I’m not entirely sure where I’d be without her.

Me: It’s fabulous. How’s your Saturday going?