Sofia pulled the rental car up in front of the casino. The vast properties owned by Whitby amazed her.
A valet appeared. "Miss, are you checking in?"
"Yes. Thank you."
She stepped out and stretched after the long drive. She spent too much time thinking of dancing with Monty. If only she belonged in his arms.
"We'll bring your luggage to your room."
She liked the service and would have to make a note. She entered the glamorous lobby with gold accents and a large crystal chandelier.
When she tried to check in, she was told Mr. Hoffman had already checked in. She wondered why Gray was checking up on her.
"He did?"
"Yes, I believe he said he'd be at a roulette table."
She smiled, imagining the large man intimidating the other players. She stepped into the casino and experienced sensory overload. The lights and sounds were like the midway at the arcade. Scanning table after table, her eyes stopped when they met the caramel pair she had thought about all day.
She watched as he lifted a glass to his mouth. In the year she'd known him, she learned he only drank when upset. Gray went to great lengths to stop him. She didn't bother to look around. Mr. Hoffman may have checked in, but he wasn't in Las Vegas. If he were, Monty wouldn't be drinking. Obviously, her cover would be blown if he had checked in as Montgomery Whitby. It was just like when Gray made dinner reservations.
Sofia wanted to tell him she knew Trista Montgomery's identity but feared he would freak out. Holding her head high, she walked across the room in one of Sage's discarded dresses like the model she wanted to be.
He smiled at her. "I'm glad you made it. Surprise!"
She took his glass and took a sip, foolishly thinking it would be less for him to drink. It burned going down her throat.
"How long have you been here?"
"An hour or two."
It was then she noticed the pile of chips in front of him. If those were his winnings, he would soon attract unwanted attention.
She leaned into his ear, taking in his amazing scent mixed with scotch. He wore a tight tee with his tattoo showing. "I'm starving. Come, eat with me."
"One more."
He put a pile of chips on number fourteen. Sofia found it odd he picked her birthday. As if the goddess of luck was on his shoulder, the wheel stopped on fourteen.
He smiled. "You're lucky, beautiful."
Her belly flipped at his words. "How many drinks have you had?"
"Not as many as I want."
"Come on. I'm not going to punch you, but you can tell me what's bothering you, triste. Bring your loot. You can cash it later."
He didn't fight her as she led him to the elevator. As soon as the elevator doors shut, he laced his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. His hot breath on her neck sent waves through her body.
"You are so beautiful."
As much as she had dreamed about an elevator scene, she knew it was a fantasy. "You're drunk."
"I'm buzzed but not drunk."
She felt the length of his muscular body against her. Her knees wobbled as she watched the numbers climb towards the twentieth floor.
Resisting the urge to turn in his arms, she reminded herself something had upset him. It was the scotch which tricked him into wanting her. He would never love her.
The elevator dinged, and he stepped back as the door opened. With pressure on her back, he led her to the right down the hall.
"What number?"
"Twenty-ten."
She stopped at the door and stepped aside so he could open it with the key card. Inside, the room was spacious with one enormous bed.
Monty turned toward the minibar, and she jumped in front of him.
"How are you going to stop me?"
"I won't punch you."
"You have a problem then because unless you can distract me, I'm going to drink."
"Tell me why?" She pleaded, still standing firm.
"I will while I drink."
He grabbed her under the arms to lift her. As he did, she could only think of one way to distract him. She pressed her lips to his. He immediately loosened his grip under her arms, but secured his hand on the back of her head which successfully kept her lips attached to his as he took over in a demanding tantalizing kiss.
If she had to write a report on the kiss, he started out slightly inept, but he warmed up as his lips and tongue gained confidence. Sofia was convinced the kiss continued for ten minutes.
When they finally parted, he panted. "That was the best kiss I've had in over twelve years. It's the only real kiss I've had in that long."
She pulled back and looked into his face. "What? Are you telling me you haven't been with a woman since..."
He smiled. "I've been with women. I just never kiss on the lips."
She blushed, imagining all the places he may have kissed the faceless women. "Why?"
"Kissing is personal, and I never felt the desire to be personal."
She looked down. "I shouldn't have kissed you then."
He tilted her chin. "I wanted to kiss you when we danced. We're personal."
His lips captured hers and he held her flush. She felt the hardness in his jeans press into her. His hands dug into her hips, pulling her closer. She tilted her pelvis to meet him. She may regret it, but she needed to live out her fantasies. As his hands wandered, she deepened their kiss.
When his lips left her to capture her neck, he moaned. "I want you so much."
She pulled at his shirt, trying to lift it. He stopped to help her. After he shed his shirt, he unzipped her dress and let it fall. Then, as if she were weightless, he lifted her and dropped her on the bed. He proved his lips had experience on other sensitive areas.
Sofia was certain she had never been made love to so thoroughly. For her, it wasn't sex. She had been in love with him for too long.
Her hand rested on his chest. She softly caressed the area over his heart. A year before he told her he had a black heart.
Afraid to upset him, but caring too deeply, she said, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Montgomery Whitby."
"Your father."
"He was caught with another guest on Saturday night. Everyone knows. I walked in on my mother laying into him. She was only angry because he wasn't discreet."
"With who?"
"Jessica Hayes."
"Julio and Rosa don't like her. She's married. Rosa said you and her have a thing."
"We've been friends. Since we're both hated."
"You aren't hated."
"She came on to me."
Sofia felt a surge of jealousy. "You had sex with her?"
"No. She was on her knees. She offered, and I was weak. I feel fucked up because she must have done the same to my old man."
His father was old. "Yeah. That's gross."
"In their argument my mother let it slip that their marriage was arranged or never about love."
"Those things happen?"
"Money makes a lot of things happen. I overheard my father once say, the only reason he had me was for an heir. He never loved me and called me weak for being emotionally screwed up."
Sofia hated to listen to how his father had hurt him. She lifted her head so she could see his face. "You are not screwed up. You have self-made success. You are talented and people love you."
"What are you talking about?"
She smiled. "The clues were there for me to put together. Did you freak when I gave you your nickname?"
"What nickname?" His eyes twinkled, daring her.
"Triste Monty. Trista. Need I say it. You and Gray and your travels. The way you go out to eat. I read Beantown magazine for your reviews. I remember when I read the Thai restaurant review. Then you ruined it so my parents can't get a table at their favorite restaurant."
He sat up. "Who have you told?"
"No one! I would never. Trust me."
His voice calmed. "I do, or I wouldn't have told you about my father."
"I'm glad you did. Our trust started on New Year's Eve and has only strengthened. I trust you and you can trust me."
His lips silenced her. He pulled her on top of him. She wished she trusted herself to tell him the truth. The words played in her head.
I love you.