Good Time(61)

“There are photos?”

“Yeah. I think they came with the package. Did they come with the package, Vince?” When I look at him I realize something. He called me Mrs Rossi. He looks like he wants to murder me, but he called me Mrs Rossi. He’s never called me that before.

“When did this happen?” Lydia asks.

“Um, sometime after the auction but before the next morning. Somewhere in there. Things got a little crazy. I don’t want to beat a dead horse about you missing it, but that night was a real good time.”

“So why are you avoiding Vince now?” she asks. “Vince, also known as your husband. Why are you avoiding him if you’re married?”

“Calm down. Everyone knows what happens in Vegas isn’t legally binding.” Just as soon as the judge signs off on that annulment it won’t be legally anything. It’ll just be undone.

“That’s not a thing that is true,” Lydia replies while Vince exhales and closes the remaining distance between us, placing a hand on my back in a very obvious attempt to physically hold onto me so I don’t take off again.

“Enough. We need to talk,” Vince says, and he doesn’t appear to be in the mood for me to reschedule our talk until tomorrow, so I guess we’re doing this now.

“Ugh. Talking is the worst.” I groan. Unless… unless he wants to call me Mrs Rossi again? I liked that, very much. But why did he call me Mrs Rossi if he’s not interested in being married? Just to get my attention? To remind me I’m only a temporary Mrs Rossi? Or is there something more going on here?





Chapter Thirty-One





Vince takes my hand, his grip firm as if he’s leaving no chance that I’ll snatch my hand away and disappear into the crowd. His tug is firm as well, as he moves through the crowd towards the hall pulling me along with him. I think we’re leaving, but he stops when we hit the casino floor. It’s less crowded here but just as noisy. The machines are blaring and people are mingling and talking.

So I’m caught off guard when Vince presses me against the side of a twenty-five-cent slot machine and kisses me. Really kisses me. Hands on the side of my face, tongue down my throat, knee between my thighs kind of kissing. He doesn’t even seem to care that we’re in public and missing an invisibility cloak.

When his lips break from mine he’s breathing heavily, his eyes locked on mine.

“Tell me again how it’s fine that you were served with annulment papers ending this.”

I guess he’s got a real fixation with the words ‘it’s fine.’

“Sure,” I reply. “As soon as you tell me how it’s fine that your ex-girlfriend filed the paperwork for you.”

His eyes widen and I want to yell ‘haha, take that, fucker,’ but I refrain.

“What do you know about Gwen?”

Exactly the response every woman wants to hear.

I tug myself out of his embrace and give him the dirtiest look I can muster for a woman who was just kissed in a way that she thought was leading to an orgasm, not a fight.

“I know she’s your ex-girlfriend. I know she works for you. I know she prepared the annulment paperwork.”

“Okay.” His brows rise in surprise, then he blows out a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can see how this looks to you.”

“Yup.” I pop the ‘p’ and cross my arms, glaring. Wait. “How does this look to me?” I ask just to make sure we’re on the same page.

“Yes, Gwen and I used to date. Years ago, Payton. It’s been over for years and it was barely anything to begin with. And yes, she works at my firm. And yes, I asked her to prepare the annulment paperwork for me because that’s her speciality and I was drowning on prep for the case this week. But I can see how utterly stupid that was. Thoughtless. Inconsiderate.”

“You can?” God, he’s hard to argue with.

“I can. I’m sorry, Payton. I thought that was what you wanted when you ran out on me on Sunday. But by Tuesday it wasn’t what I wanted, so I sent an email asking her not to file it while I figured it out. While I figured you out.”

“You did?” Oh, God. He wants to figure me out. He does love me and this feels like hope blossoming in my chest.

“I did.”

“So what happened? Does Gwen secretly still harbor feelings for you and she filed that paperwork anyway in a desperate attempt to break us up?” My eyes are wide as I visualize the scene.

“No, she went into labor.” Vince is frowning at me like I’m nuts.

“Labor?”

“Not mine,” he quickly interjects. “Before your overactive imagination flies off into Neverland. Not my kid. She married a tax attorney two years ago. I hadn’t realized she was that close to maternity leave or I’d not have asked her to to deal with it in the first place. I honestly…” He pauses as if this is going to sound so bad he needs to mull the words over before he says them out loud. “I don’t really pay that much attention to her. My firm is fairly large, I’ve got a lot of employees, between there and the club.”

“You have a very nice website,” I offer.

“You were stalking me on my website?” He smiles.

“Maybe. And I apologize for running out on you last Sunday. I really did have a meeting though.”