Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)(18)
“For being in love?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.
“For wanting to be with someone who’s going to be really far away.”
Thomas shrugged happily. “Nah, love is good. Chase it. Embrace it. You’re focused and driven in other areas of life, and now you’re that way about her.”
He’d do everything he could to help Michael follow the girl. He’d help him go to college abroad if he could pull it off. Help him see her more. A love like that, you didn’t throw away. Especially with Annalise. She was a special girl; she’d do right by his son. It was a long shot, a Hail Mary pass, but maybe Michael could nab a scholarship at a university in Europe, find some study program for Americans, and learn the French language.
But even if he landed financial aid, they’d need money for airfare and lots of new expenses. Ergo, Thomas needed a new job badly. Being a limo driver only got you so far. Sure, it was a step up from driving cabs, which he’d done for years, but he’d have to reach higher.
“How would we ever be able to pay for it?” his son asked him as he picked up his fork and dug into the steak.
Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s a promotion opening up at work. Think I’m going to apply for it.”
“You are?”
“Can you see me being a desk jockey? Instead of a driver?” he said with a wry smile.
“Sure. Why not? You already have to wear a suit and tie.”
Thomas wanted that job. Wanted it badly. Wanted the bigger salary to help fund his kids’ dreams.
That night at class, he focused on how to apply his newfound math skills to the job application, and when he returned home he told his wife about an upcoming work party.
“We should go. I think it’ll help as I try to get a new job. Get to know the people in the other departments,” he said as he took off his jacket.
She glanced up from her sewing machine, her green eyes eager for once. He was happy to see that look in them. Lately she’d been so far away.
“Will there be piano again?” she asked, her tone strangely breathless.
He shrugged. “I think so. You mean like at that other party?”
He’d taken her to a holiday party last year, and she’d been transfixed by the Christmas tunes some local musician had tapped out on the piano.
“Yes.”
“Pretty sure there will be piano.”
“I’ll go,” she said, and she seemed happy.
That was a relief.
At least she wasn’t giving him a hard time about money. She used to do that a lot. Too much. Always nagging him about their finances. She wanted him to make more, wanted to have more. But that had slowed lately, and he was glad of it.
Glad, too, that something so simple would make her smile. They hadn’t had the easiest time all these years, but maybe, just maybe, things were changing.
CHAPTER NINE
A half-dozen beautiful women lounged by the Venus pool at Caesars, closed for a few hours for the shoot. One rested elegantly on a lounge chair, small scraps of bathing-suit fabric covering her long, tanned legs. Another leaned provocatively against the Roman column in the center of the secluded pool, water lapping at her feet, her face tilted toward the sun. A leggy blonde was perched on the edge of the pool, absently splashing the crystal blue waters.
Around them fanned a sea of people. Women in black jeans and tanks stood by with makeup cases, ready to powder a shiny nose at a moment’s notice. Attendants carried towels and robes on their fingertips, poised to cover the models the second the camera stopped clicking. A man with a trim beard and skinny plaid pants seemed to preside over the shoot.
The pools at Caesars Palace were lush with palm trees, and rich with stately Roman architecture and statuary. The Venus pool was the most exclusive of all—it was topless, though today all boobs were covered.
Barely.
The whole scene was such a stark contrast to Michael’s morning. After his run, he’d met with Curtis, who operated a gentlemen’s club that Michael’s company handled security for. Curtis wanted to beef up the services, given the increased gang activity across town. That was something Michael had been hearing from many clients these days. Even his brother Colin had recently helped to strengthen security around the community center where he volunteered and his girlfriend worked. Caution was the new watchword, as the Royal Sinners and their crimes made businesses wary. After Michael’s meeting with Curtis, he’d finished a walk-through of a bank that had hired more protection in light of some recent robberies.
Funny how he’d gone from armed guards in aviator shades to perfect tens soaking in the rays.
He was liking the way the afternoon was shaping up to be much better.
He’d told the intern—at least, he guessed the young woman with purple hipster glasses, jet-black hair, and a clipboard, who’d done her best impression of a sentry at the pool area door, was an intern—that he was here to see Annalise. The gatekeeper checked the list, found his name, and waved him in. Michael picked a potted palm tree on the terrace, out of the way of the models and the photographic entourage. He could have stared at the blonde, let his eyes travel across the wispy brunette, or roamed his gaze over the chestnut-haired beauty floating on a gold raft.
Nope. His eyes were fixed on the redhead, watching her work. Such a familiar image—Annalise viewing the world through her lens, snap, snap, snapping. Strong arms raised her camera, hands working the shutter, her eye capturing the women in repose. She wore jeans and a black tank top. Her red hair was swept high on her head, some sort of chopstick stabbed through it.