Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes #3)(133)

The wheel turns—8 Black.

He has won a hundred thousand. I place my hand on his. I know how casinos work. The smart player never stays. The longer you stay, the more unlikely you will walk away with anything. ‘Shouldn’t you stop now? You’ve won so much.’

He looks at me, a strange expression on his face. ‘Remember what I told you, Lil? I’m lucky. I’m always lucky.’

He puts the entire winnings, a hundred thousand dollars, on 34 Red. The crowd behind us gasps. It’s straight up betting. Pays thirty-five to one but the chances of winning are so small.

I touch his sleeve, my eyes confused. I can’t understand what he is up to. Why abandon his earlier winning and more careful strategy? ‘Why?’

‘Lucky at games and unlucky in love. If I win then I am unlucky in love and if I lose it means I am lucky in love. What do you say, Lily? Is a hundred thousand dollars worth it?’

The woman spins the wheel. I stare at the wheel in bewilderment. Then I put my chips behind his.

‘No more bets,’ the woman says.

I look at his face and he is staring at me, totally unperturbed. He has no interest in the outcome of his bet. There is a disappointed hush. Hazily, I hear the words, ‘Fourteen Red.’ All the chips are swept away.


‘They don’t call it The Strip for nothing,’ he murmurs. He is strangely calm.

He slips his hand into his pocket and comes up with a small velvet box. I stare at it in shock. He opens the box.

A huge, glittering diamond solitaire stares back at me. I am shaken out of my daze by a commotion at my side. I lift my head and see the award-winning Blue Man Group! Their shiny blue painted heads bob and they widen their eyes and start to turn placards around that read:

Will

You

Marry

Me,

Lily

Hart?

My mouth drops open. The people around us ‘Oh,’ and ‘Ah.’ What the hell is going on? The whole thing is so unreal I almost can’t believe my eyes. I glance at Jake and he is grinning at me. The men start pantomiming beating hearts in their own inimitable way. They then produce a bottle of Cristal champagne and pop that open. Two flutes appear from somewhere and get filled. One is handed to me. Utterly bemused I take it and turn toward Jake. My mind is a total blank.

‘Will you?’ Jake asks softly.

‘Was this your high roller request?’ I whisper.

‘Part of it. It’s not finished yet.’

My brain can’t get into gear. The cocktails have made it sluggish. It has all happened so fast. I don’t know what I would have done in different circumstances, but with no time for thought or reflection, this moment seems like the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me. It is the most romantic and certainly the most dramatic. And all these people are waiting for me to say yes.

Caught in the moment my voice is a whisper. ‘Yes. Yes, I will.’

With a triumphant smile he slips the ring onto my finger. It is a perfect fit and the crowd starts clapping and congratulating us.

‘Come,’ he says, and we go out to the pool area. It has been turned into a magical wonderland full of flowers, balloons and lights. There is an altar and a priest is waiting for us.

‘What the hell?’ People are clapping, laughing, and cheering us on.

‘Feel like becoming my wife tonight?’

‘Tonight?’ I squeak. ‘It’s nearly midnight.’

‘Why not? This is Las Vegas—the land of dreams and twenty-four hour marriage ceremonies.’

I suddenly remember Mills and what he would say. Shit. What the f*ck am I doing? This is not part of the plan. A feeling of uneasiness slithers down my spine, cold and restless. I want to say, ‘We should wait. This is all too fast,’ but I am unable to. He has gone to so much trouble and everyone is looking at me with a mixture of envy and awe. I look up at him.

A warm gust of wind ripples through his hair, as if it is teasing fingers. He looks down at me, reckless and intense. I stare at him, mesmerized. He is as gorgeous as a technicolor dream. I am the luckiest girl here.

I open my mouth and words tumble out. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’



With a smile the priest announces, ‘You may kiss your bride.’

As if in a dream I watch Jake drift closer, his eyes flashing, triumphant. Daring me? Daring me to what? Then I feel his mouth come down on me and drown out every thought in my head. My legs go weak. I’m married. I’m married to Jake Eden. Without my parents or grandmother. A sharp guilt pierces me.

What the hell have I done?

But everybody is shouting. There is glitter and noise. A photographer and videographer appear. Hotel staff are congratulating us. And there is a pink cake to cut. A small piece is put into my mouth. It feels soft, but I don’t taste it. It must have been sweet.

Then Jake is pulling me by the hand. He pulls me into the elevator. I look up at him, still dazed, unable to believe: I’m married. We just got married. In the confines of the lift I can’t look into his eyes. I look down at my ring. Wow! I’m married. I’m really married. A tendril of happiness touches my heart.

We start kissing in the lift. He pulls me out and we stumble through the doors, our lips glued. Suddenly he breaks away and, putting his hand under my knees, lifts me up.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Carrying you over the threshold.’