“So are you going to be a silent grump the whole trip?”
I turn. Lucia is curled in the seat facing me in the luxurious jet. A small glint of sunlight comes through the window. It illuminates her hair and the side of her face. For a minute, I’m almost caught off guard with just how damn gorgeous she is. But I frown. I shake that shit away.
I can’t think of her like that. Not a fucking chance. I’m barely going to survive this train wreck of a job as is. Desiring her isn’t going to help one fucking bit. And besides that, this girl has princess written all over her.
Rich, pampered, spoiled rotten. Vincent caught me up to speed before we left for the airport. She’s not just Salvestro’s granddaughter. She’s his everything. His only son, Nestor, went and married an American model. She died when Lucia was two. Then Nestor, a semi-famous actress, and a large quantity of cocaine wrapped themselves around a telephone poll in a Lamborghini when Lucia was nine. So, she’s Grampa Salvestro’s whole world.
Even if she wasn’t a Scalimi. Even if she had no connection to my boss’s boss. She’s still trouble. She might be hot as hell. But I don’t play games. Fuck that. No matter how gorgeous a girl is, no one’s worth jumping through hoops for.
“Well?” she needles.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
Lucia grins. “Are you still freaking out that you told your boss’s darling little granddaughter to go fuck herself?”
I grit my teeth. Lucia smiles like a cat.
“You could just apologize. I swear, I’m perfectly willing to let it go. Bygones be bygones and all that.” She smiles sweetly at me. But it’s dripping with brattiness.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
I resist the urge to linger on her frown. I turn away instead to hide my own smug grin. She wasn’t expecting that. I bet this girl is used to guys fawning over her. She’s used to “the help” falling over backwards to make her every whim a reality. She wants to play mind games? She can go right on ahead.
The stewardess steps into the main cabin with a smile and walks over. “Can I get you two anything?”
“Champagne?”
She smiles at Lucia’s request. “Of course, miss. Sir?”
“Water, thanks.”
Lucia rolls her eyes. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. It’s like three in the afternoon.”
“And we’re on a luxury private jet going to Vegas,” she sighs heavily. “My God, did they seriously pick the wettest blanket they could find to be my shadow?”
“That’s Mr. Wet Blanket to you, thanks,” I grunt. I look up at the stewardess. “You know what, let’s go wild.”
Lucia’s frown fades into an eager grin. “See, I knew you had it in—”
“I’ll take some lemon slices with that water. And you know what? Let’s make it sparkling.” I turn to smile at Lucia. “It’s Vegas, after all.”
She rolls her eyes as the stewardess walks away. “So lame.”
“I’m working.”
“Well, work on taking that stick out of your ass.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” I close my eyes. Fuck. The lack of sleep is about to catch up with me hard.
“Wait, are you sleeping?”
“Trying to,” I grunt.
“Well, wake up!”
“No.”
Lucia sighs heavily. “Look, I don’t get many breaks or vacations like this, okay?”
I snort. “Yeah, I bet it’s tough being a mob princess without a care in the world.”
She glares at me. “You could try being a little nicer, you know.”
“I could.”
Her glare hardens. “I could try telling my grandfather what a massive dick you are, and we could see where that gets you.”
I frown. Lucia smiles sweetly.
“Let’s get something straight, princess,” I grunt. “My job is to protect you. It’s not to humor or amuse you. It’s not to gab with you or drink champagne with you. If the stewardess tries to kidnap you for ransom, I’m all over it. Barring that, I haven’t slept in thirty-something hours, and I need to fucking sleep. Do you mind?”
Lucia sucks her plump lip between her teeth. Her eyes narrow. “Fine,” she finally huffs. “Fine, take a nap. Old man.”
“Enjoy your champagne.”
I close my eyes. I’m out before the stewardess gets back with the sparkling water.
The limo takes us from the airport to the hotel on the strip. Unlike whatever insane living arrangement we’ve got waiting in New York, here, we’ve got separate spaces. I’m in the room next door though, with a door between the rooms just in case.
About eighteen seconds after I’ve set my bag down, there’s a knock at the connecting door.
“What?”
“Open up!”
“No,” I grunt. All I want is some goddamn peace and quiet. I want some space from the very tempting, but very, very off-limits little brat next door. I want a drink, and I want my goddamn real phone so I can hop on Connect and see what BabyBella99 is up to.
“Help, help, I’m being kidnapped, Dom,” Lucia says in a totally bland voice. I roll my eyes and walk over. I swing it open and instantly suck in a breath.
She looks good. Fuck, she looks too good. She’s in a shimmering silver club dress with strappy black stilettos. My eyes drink her in. I groan and try and stop the automatic response of my cock surging in my pants.
“Oh yay, you saved me,” she deadpans.
“What do you want, Lucia?”
“To go out.”
I shake my head. “No.”
She frowns. “Excuse me?”
“I said no. Way too many variables. And we don’t have a team, just me.”
“It wasn’t a request, Dom,” she mutters. “I’m going out.”
“No, you’re—”
“What are you going to do, tie me to the bed?”
I groan to myself. That’s an image that’s going to keep me hard and feeling guilty for about a week.
“Lucia…”
“We’re going out, Dom. Why the hell do you think we just flew to Vegas? To sit in our hotel rooms?”
“A guy can hope.”
She smiles. “Put on something presentable. We’re leaving in five.” She steps away and closes the door. Shit.
I think about calling Vincent. But I stop myself. No, this job was given to me because I can be trusted. Because I get shit done. I don’t call home crying about some bratty twenty-one-year-old giving me attitude. She wants to go out? Fine. Whatever. We’re staying at the hotel under fake names anyways. And the local criminal elements are at least friendly-ish with the Scaliamis. Fuck it.
I throw on a suit, no tie, that I find in the suitcase. At least Vincent has decent fashion tastes, seeing as he packed for me. Three minutes later, there’s a knock on the door again.
“Ready?” She blinks. “Wow.”
“What?”
Lucia grins slyly. “Nothing, you just clean up better than I thought you would.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Here.” Lucia passes me a tiny little bottle of vodka.