Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(63)

“I want to see you again,” she says, so assured that I don’t even ask if she’s certain.

“I’ll text you a time and location for tonight.”

She starts smiling off my smile. “Okay.” Fear lowers her lips, but I squeeze her hand one more time before I let go entirely.

Then I rise to my feet. I have trouble tearing my gaze off of hers, all the way to the door. I push outside, people meandering down the Vegas strip.

Cars honking.

Life moving quickly.

I look left and right down the long stretch of sidewalk. No Corporate in my view. And I text Baylee as I leave.

All clear. 10 p.m. Meet me in the lobby at Two Kings Hotel. See you later, krasavitsa.





Act Twenty-Three

Baylee Wright




Stuck in an agonizingly slow cab, I check the time on my phone again. Two minutes past 10 p.m.—casually late.

That’s not bad, right? I’ll start panicking when it hits fifteen minutes.

My curls hang loosely against my chest, and I fix the buckle to my red high heels that match the prettiest and newest dress I own: a rose-red strapless cocktail number. The fabric hugs my hips and pushes up what little cleavage I have.

Luka never said if this was fancy or a really laidback outing, but we can barely find a moment to spare outside of the Masquerade together. At least not without being interrupted. So I’m taking advantage of the moment and dressing up for once.

The cab halts by a curb, and the rich, glittering purple words 2 Kings stands out amongst surrounding neon signage and flashing billboards. I’ve never been here, but I’m sure Luka has casino-hopped with Timo before.

10:12 p.m.

I pay my fare, exit the cab, and carry my silver clutch as I push through the revolving doors. The lobby is the casino floor, boisterous with multicolored slots and gamblers. Packed tight.

I’m not out of place. The average age is young. About twenties to mid-thirties, and most are dressed like they’re ready to hit the nightclubs.

I look up as I walk further inside, thousands of crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Modern with a regal touch—it’s breathtaking.

“Baylee.”

My gaze falls, straight ahead, just as Luka rises off a velvet bar stool. My lips part at how utterly gorgeous he is in formalwear.

Black slacks fit him perfectly, and his white button-down contrasts his dark hair but brings out his emotive gray eyes. His hair is slightly wet. Like he didn’t have time to dry the strands.

His hot gaze travels down my body in an intoxicating once-over, his desire so apparent. My neck instantly heats.

I can’t contain a smile as we near one another, my pulse pounding. “Hey,” I say, my voice more breathy than I intend.

He clutches my hip and whispers, “You look gorgeous.”

Butterflies. I feel them tenfold. “Funny,” I say seriously, “I was going to say the same about you.”

“Gorgeous?” His lips stretch.

I go off of impulse. Feeling. I touch his cheek with a tender hand, and our gazes devour one another. My fingers trace the hard, dominant line of his shaven jaw, and I intake the soft, virtuousness around his eyes.

“Yeah,” I breathe, “gorgeous.”

Luka shifts my hand towards his lips, places a warm kiss on my palm, and then threads our fingers together. He nods towards the elevators. “You can say no, but I got us a room for the night.”

My new overwhelming smile, I try to tame a bit more. “I’m not going to say no.” There’s no practice tomorrow. It’s our one free day this week, and I already texted Brenden I was going to Netflix and chill alone tonight.

I’m ready for Luka to really touch me. So ready that I’m wearing pink lacy underwear instead of my usual cotton.

Luka smiles a captivating, panty-dropping smile. “This way.” He takes charge, guiding me to the elevators, our hands never separating.

We slide into an elevator that quickly compacts with other twenty-somethings, chatting loudly. He pushes the 25 button and slips further back with me. As the doors shut, I scoot closer to Luka, and he leans his arm against the wall-mirror.

He catches me staring at him, and the corners of his lips lift again.

“Your hair is wet,” I say. “Did you leave fast?”

He sighs at a recent memory. “You don’t want to know.”

“Now I really do.” The elevator jerks to a stop, letting off only one person on the fourth floor. This may take a while. Now that I’m with him, I don’t mind at all.

“I couldn’t get in the bathroom until ten minutes before I left.”

“Why?”

He lowers his voice. “Dimitri was jerking off.”

I cringe, not wanting to picture Dimitri masturbating.

“Exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“You didn’t see him, did you?” I wonder, too curious not to ask.

“No. I have seen too much of my cousins, but that’s not something I’ve ever stumbled in on.”

Tenth floor. His hand slips around my waist, to my lower back. I’m nervously stiff, so I try to bring up casual conversation again. “Have you ever walked in on someone having sex?”

“Oh yeah.”

My mouth falls. This must be a Vegas thing because it never happened to him in New York. “Who?”