𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 // 𝐇.𝐒.

29.

Chapter 29

________

Sin City.

I've never been to Las Vegas before. It's a place Matt and I had planned to go to for my twenty-first birthday, but it never happened. I was afraid of what August would say to me if I told her I'd be celebrating my birthday with my boyfriend instead of with her.

In the backseat of Harry's car, I scoot forward and wrap my arms around the headrest of the passenger's seat. I peek out the windshield then glance over at the dashboard.

He's going ninety-almost-a-hundred miles per hour.

"Harry, we have to go back home," I say. I don't think this is the time to go to Las Vegas at all.

"We can't."

I frown, watching him bring a cigarette to his mouth. "Harry, please... First, you said we shouldn't call the cops-"

"Just trust me." He meets my eyes in his rearview mirror. I see his frown furrow soon enough. "And sit back and put your damn seatbelt on."

I sigh, staying put because at this moment in time I don't care for a seatbelt. I let my chin rest on the chair I hug. "You killed her and now we're escaping? Is that what this is?" I ask, my eyes leaving his from the mirror to look at his side profile. I watch his jaw tighten as he takes the stick out from his mouth. With his cigarette balanced between his two fingers, he brings his hand back onto the wheel.

"I saved you," he corrects me in a mumble. "We're just spending a couple of days away, alright?"

"Right, you saved me," I repeat and let myself scoff when bitterness replaces the strawberry sweetness on my tongue. I let go of the seat to let myself slump into the leather seat again. I hug myself.

"Do you not think so?"

I don't have to look at him to know he has a cocked eyebrow. I only look out the window as I watch Harry swerve through the I-10 and it's as if he's driving the getaway car.

He might be doing just that.

"D'Amore, I asked you a question."

I turn my head to look over at him again. "Are you searching for a thank you?"

Too numb from all the crying, I think my sadness has been altered into pure ire. Can he blame me?

Him showing up at the right time doesn't override the fact that he walked out on me hours before. I'm mad at him, but the way he remains quiet over what I had sourly said only made me feel guilty in the end.

"Sorry," I say softly. "I'm just hungry."

"I can stop by a diner," Harry offers and I'm surprised when he does. I swore he would've just scoffed and kept on driving.

"Okay," I respond in a whisper, hoping eating something will get rid of the terrible headache I'm suffering from. As Harry drives, I tug the sleeves of his hoodie up to my elbows. With the help of the passing lights, I finally catch a glimpse of the rope burn on my wrists. Instantly, I'm taken back to the feeling of being completely useless.

I couldn't fight. I couldn't break from the restraint she had put me in. I frown when the emotion wants to tear through me again, but I don't let it when I tug the sleeves back down and over my hands. When I look up and out the window, Harry has finally slowed down in speed. He's exiting the freeway and driving towards a Denny's. The bright yellow sign is hard to miss.

I sit up when he parks in the practically empty lot. With a soft sigh, I reach for the door handle and step out with my chucks above the rocky pavement. As I look over, I watch Harry take one last drag on his way to the entrance. I approach him.

He holds the door wide open as he then puts his cigarette out on the tray above a nearby trash can. I look away from his gaze on me and walk inside. Soon enough we're led to a table. I slide into one side of the booth and I pick up the menu we were given. I can feel Harry's stare from where he sits across from me. I don't look back because frankly, I don't want to look at him.

Pancakes at night? Pancakes for the second time today. It's decided.

"Yeah, I'll have a cup of coffee," Harry orders to the waiter I hadn't noticed standing by our table.

"Me, too, please. I'm also ready to order."

"Alrighty, two cups of coffee. What can I get you to eat, then?" The waiter, young and trying to get by, has a pen in his hand to note down my simple order.

"I'll just have the banana pancakes, thank you."

"And for you, sir?"

"Just the coffee for me."

I press my lips together as I slide my menu towards the end of the table for the waiter to collect. I shouldn't care or worry if the man eats or not. I'm not his mother.

"I already ate," he answers my inner thoughts when it's just the two of us again.

I only nod and look down at the old mahogany table in front of us. There are carvings on it that I can't make out and tap my finger above it to trace it. "How long will we be... away?" I build the nerve to ask.

"Not long."

I frown. I can't shake out the feeling of uneasiness that has consumed me. The thought of leaving her behind in my now-ruined apartment might just eat me up alive. Though Harry had been so adamant about not getting the police involved.

He's trying to save himself. He's a member of a notorious gang in L.A. and he has the tattoo on his side to prove it.

"Harry, I have my internship tomorrow morning. I can't miss it. If I miss it, I will fail and if I fail, I won't-"

"Relax," he interrupts. "I already talked to Blond."

"What?" I raised an eyebrow at him. "What did you tell Niall?"

He heaves a sigh then sits up when the waiter drops off our coffee. I sit up as well and softly thank him after he assured me my pancakes would be out soon. I reach for the cups of creamer to pour into my coffee mug.

He then says, "D'Amore, your little fashion career isn't at stake... I bribed the druggie with drugs. You're fine."

I scoff over his choice of words. "Stop calling him that. Addiction is a disease."

"You're naive," he mumbles.

"Excuse me?" I stop stirring the spoon in my coffee mug over what he chooses to call me this time.

"I said you're naive. He's a fucking druggie. He knows what he's doing and who he's hurting when he uses but he does it anyway." Harry lifts his mug filled with dark coffee to take a sip.

"Because he's addicted. Yes, he knows but keeps doing it because he physically can't stop," I explain to Harry and return to preparing my coffee. I take another sip, but still rather bitter, I add another cup of vanilla creamer into it.

"Oh, c'mon... It isn't that fucking hard to stop."

"Maybe not for you," I mumble as I sip my coffee again. Better. I then challenge, "Stop smoking."

"What?"

"If it isn't that fucking hard to stop, then stop smoking," I tell the arrogant dick in front of me and I laugh a little.

"Oh, fuck off... Why are you defending that druggie after what he tried doing to you?"

Yeah, I knew he wouldn't give up smoking.

My eyes trail away from him to look at my fingers above the table. Harry doesn't know I've already spoken to Niall. It turns out, he made him out as a villain, but truly Niall was only misunderstood.

"He wasn't trying to take advantage of me," I utter with eyes still low. "He told me about Aaliyah."

I hear him scoff under his breath. I look up when I also hear a shift of the leather seat he sits on top of. I thought he was leaving, but he's only sitting up. "Oh, yeah? What exactly did he tell you?"

"That she was an intern he fell in love with. He introduced her to drugs. Unfortunately, she grew addicted, and that they tried to stop and seek help... Niall mentioned that he even asked you to stop selling to her and that you did, but Aaliyah ended up buying a bad batch from somebody else. She ended up overdosing because of it... and that yes, his mother covered up the tragedy."

Harry is silent and it seems like I've just told him everything he kept from me. Then, he's shaking his head. "Did he tell you what else he asked me to do?"

I swallow the warmth of sweetened coffee down my throat. Setting my mug back down, I raise an eyebrow. Hesitantly, I ask, "What else did he ask you to do?"

"He asked me to get rid of his dead intern's body for a shit ton of money. That druggie only cares about himself, his name, and his career. He took advantage of that girl, used her, killed her, and tried to discard her like trash. He didn't love her. So don't sit there and try to defend him to me just because you have a little crush."

I open my mouth, about to call him out on just how ridiculous he sounds to say I'm defending Niall over a crush. The waiter returns before I can. I only huff and slide my cup of coffee to the side to make room for my plate. "Thanks," I say to the waiter and I'm sure he senses the tension between Harry and me.

Once he leaves, I grab the syrup. "I don't have a crush on him, not that it's any of your business. I'm not defending him either. I just think he made poor mistakes that he regrets every day, but addiction is what beats him down."

As I pour syrup over my stack of pancakes, Harry falls silent again. So, I continue, "So did you get rid of... her body?" I only asked because part of me wonders what will happen to August. I set the syrup down, unsure if I want to eat anymore after the thought of her dying resurfaces.

He chuckles, soft, behind the rim of his mug. After a terribly slow sip, he says, "No. I have enough money of my own. Plus, we weren't that close for me to get rid of a body for him... or, have my people do it much less."

He's looking at me when he says that. I have a feeling he's hinting at the answers to the questions I have. Stressed, I pick up my fork to start eating. I don't know what else to say, so I remain quiet.

So does he.

It isn't until, halfway through my stack of pancakes, I then ask, "Why did you need me to talk to Matthew so badly?"

He's made himself comfortable. He's sitting at the very end of the booth, leaned with his back against the wall so that he could rest a leg up. "Just in case."

"Just in case—what?" I ask, even though I have a feeling of what he's implying.

"You were her roommate. You're the first person the cops are going to ask about her whereabouts."

"I thought you said-"

"And then you'll tell them you were with that asshat and that he seemed a bit on edge."

No. "You're fucking kidding, right?" I let out a laugh from pure disbelief over what he was saying. "You are not suggesting I tip Matthew off to the cops. You are not asking me to frame-"

"I'm not asking you to do anything." A smug grin appears across his face. "I'm telling you, D'Amore."

"Harry, I'm not going to do that!" I raise my voice at him in the middle of a vacant Denny's. I sit up the moment the waiter comes by our table again.

"How's everything? Is there something else I can get you? More coffee?" He tends.

I shake my head and swallow down the tension. I look up at the young waiter and give him the world's fakest smile. "Just the check now, please."

I look at Harry again when he leaves. He tells me, "Chill out. That's just if shit hits the fan. Besides, they won't have any evidence to arrest you or your little boyfriend either. If there's no body, and all."

I huff. There's no use in correcting Harry that Matthew isn't my boyfriend. There's no use in arguing with him either.

"Is it such a good idea to go to Vegas?" I finally ask.

"Probably not," he admits with a grin. "Makes us look suspicious, but I want to play a game of poker."

"A game of poker?"

He wins. I'm not going to attempt fighting against going to Las Vegas. Mostly because he's my safest bet if I'm being honest with myself. If I were to go back to LA, I wouldn't survive on my own. Even though he doesn't need me, I kinda need him. I just won't admit it out loud.

I'm still mad at him. I don't think anything will change that—my life saved or not.

The waiter comes back, but Harry slides the check towards him. He tucks cash into the sleeve and he's sliding out of the booth. Silently, I begin to follow him out of the lonely restaurant at this hour.

I don't sit in the backseat of his car this time. I join him in the passenger's seat because I think I'm all out of tears. I don't need privacy this time.

"How long till we get there?" I ask, pulling the strap of the seatbelt over my body.

"Three hours, maybe," he answers while pulling out of the parking space. "Go to sleep, if you'd like."

My sleepy eyes grow heavier the minute Harry merges into the freeway again. The smoothness of the ride, the warmth of the sweater I'm in, and the song on the radio are what's inducing my body into relaxation.

You're just like an angel, your skin makes me cry.

You float like a feather, in a beautiful world.

I let my eyes close as Creep by Radiohead floods the silence. I pick up Harry's voice. It's low and soft, I don't bother to interrupt him. I only listen to him sing one of my favorite songs.

"What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here."

___

I wake up, gasping for air.

Just of what I was afraid of, August in her frantic state had haunted my dreams. She had the knife held high and the same dark determination in her eyes. I'm glad I woke up when I did.

I feel the heat swarm around in my palms and cheeks over the trauma I revisited in my sleep. As I sit up, regathering my breaths, I realize I'm in a bed—a large one belonging to a fancy hotel room.

"Morning, Angel."

I look over. Harry enters the room from a balcony. He leaves the sliding door open behind him as he enters without a shirt and his pack of cigarettes in hand.

Morning?

I must've been so tired to end up in a hotel bed in Las Vegas without remembering how the hell I got here in the first place. I swear, we were just at Denny's.

I then look down to see that I'm still in his hoodie, my jeans, but not my shoes. I turn, pushing the covers off of me to let my feet touch the ground.

"Carried you all the way up and I don't get a good morning in return?"

I let out a small laugh. Men. "Nope," I mumble. The room feels cold from the running AC, but I begin to pull his sweater off of me.

I catch a glimpse of his smirk, but to my surprise, he doesn't say anything in return. He's walking across the spacious neutral-toned room. He passes the king-sized bed I sit in and then the lounge area to get to the bathroom near the door. "There's lots of room in the shower if you're interested," I hear him say, his voice in echo, then moment he steps in it.

Now that he can't see me, I roll my eyes. He's insane if he thinks I'll willingly join him in the shower right now.

A walk all by myself in Las Vegas intrigues me.

I stand up the moment I hear the shower run. I then scan the room. A breath of relief escapes me when I discover that Harry has brought my stuff up. I walk towards my bag of tossed clothing on the floor and rummage through it. I'm glad I get to change out of these clothes.

Las Vegas is hot, I remind myself.

Digging past my copious amounts of sweatshirts, I find my favorite jade green dress to wear. I stand up tall as I hold it up to inspect.

Luckily, it doesn't need ironing.

As Harry continues to shower, I take the opportunity to get out of my clothes. I rush, afraid he will finish before I could change.

I've zipped up the side of my mini dress. Quickly, I comb through my hair in the mirror. I then grab my bag of essentials and I take it with me to the bathroom. He left the door open so I take another opportunity to brush my teeth.

He notices my presence when I turn on the faucet to wet my toothbrush. I take a look around and I didn't expect the bathroom to be as grand as it is. Harry showers behind a tall, fogged-up glass, and beside it rests a large white ceramic bathroom with golden accents. The mirror is all fogged up, too, from his hot shower, but the lights all around the wide width are bright.

"The water's warm," he invitingly teases.

He woke up in a good mood.

I ignore him and begin to brush my teeth after applying the right amount of toothpaste.

"Oh, she doesn't speak?"

I spit into the round sink. I then huff, not in the playful mood he abnormally is in today. I begin to brush again.

He shuts the water off just as I start to brush at my tongue. I don't look behind me, but I hear the sliding door open. I spit again and reach for the golden faucet handle to let the water run. I lean down to rinse my mouth clean.

When he tuts, it's when I realize he's standing tall behind me. He then says, "Bratty behavior, if you ask me."

I release the hold of my hair from when I leaned down to rinse. After shutting the faucet off, I set my clean toothbrush aside. I then look down when his hands slide onto the granite countertop, trapping me. "Harry-"

"Good, you can use your mouth."

When I turn around, Harry's eyes have lifted. With a grin on his face, he's looking into my eyes as he keeps me from going anywhere. He stands with a towel around his waist and he's still a bit wet. Beads of water drip off the ends of his hair and onto his shoulders. I don't mean to follow the bead that leads down his left peck. I look back up when I had been met with a pierced nipple. "Move," I whisper.

He sucks in a breath as if I had failed in giving him an expected response. His green eyes scan my face and I notice that they stop at my mouth. "Weren't you taught basic manners, kitten?"

Kitten. I almost laugh because I haven't heard him call me that since when he used to try and intimidate me. Yet, nothing comes from my parted lips. Playing along, instead, I shake my head.

He hums low, his hands closing me in further. "Someone's gotta teach a bad kitten like you some manners, then."

I'm mad at him.

I let out a sigh when his hands find the small of my waist. His simple touch seems to always be enough to get me. I have to be stronger. Yet, I say, "But I'm so used to getting spoiled."

He then lets out a chuckle. "Sorry, my spoiled girl... Gotta start earning what you want."

I hum in return, keeping myself from touching him by having my arms crossed. My chest rises when his thumbs glide across the apples of my cheeks. He then tilts my head when he traces my jaw.

"I better hear 'please and thank you, daddy' come out that sweet mouth of yours when you talk to me," he taunts.

I uncross my arms. "And, if I forget?"

"Little brats get punished."

The corner of my lips lifts. "Yeah?" I taunt in return as if the thought of being punished interested me. I then let my hands slide onto his wet chest. He seems to appreciate my touch on his warm skin, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction. With a light shove, I'm able to slip past him.

I begin to gather what I need to leave the hotel room. I need a walk outside now more than ever.

I pack my wallet, cellphone, and makeup bag into my favorite tote. I then sit at the edge of the bed where my white chucks rest on the floor and I begin to put them on.

"Where the hell are you going?" I then hear Harry ask when he finally left the bathroom to join me.

I lace up my shoes, double knotting to avoid a trip, and I don't look at him. "A stroll." I then stand up when I'm ready to go.

"You're not going anywhere."

I walk past Harry and towards the door. "Yes, I am. What's daddy going to do? Punish me?" I tease when I reach for the heavy door handle.

"D'Amore-"

I walked out before he could scold me. Just in case, I take note of the hotel room we're staying in.

1017

I then begin to walk down the lengthy hall, fast.

I need to be alone for once. I have to stop being reliant on everyone around me the way I have been my entire life. I can't remember the last time I've purposely spent time alone.

So I'm going on a walk. I'm going to check out the pool and maybe order myself a drink. Then, maybe I'll go to a nail salon. I don't entirely have the money to treat myself in that way, but that's what credit cards are for.

On my way down to the lobby, my phone begins to ring. I don't have to check to know it's probably Harry. I grin a little, enjoying the newfound trait I've developed of not letting people walk all over me.

I've been walked all over one too many times before.

I step out onto the lobby to discover we're staying at Caesar's Palace. I'm blown away by how large the place is. I look up only to see renaissance art all across the ceiling. I begin to walk then follow the signs towards the pool.

I've stumbled upon a mall, painted skies on ceilings, and life-like statues all on my way to the pool—which had been larger than I expected it to be.

I smile, continuing to ignore my vibrating cellphone in my tote bag. With the bright sun in my face, I shield it off with a hand as I walk past the crowded daybeds.

There are so many separate pools separated sections, I begin to crave a swim. I have to come back.

When I finally find the bar, I prop myself up onto a barstool. I probably shouldn't be having a drink on an empty stomach, but I'm on vacation.

"What can I get ya?" A kind man behind the bar asks.

"I'll take... a piña colada." I grin, satisfied with my choice. It's what I crave.

I didn't know I had the option to charge my drink to the hotel bill until the bartender had brought it to my attention. I took advantage and it wasn't long until I was given my drink.

I take a sip, my tastebuds content over the pineapple and coconut mixture with the right amount of rum on my tongue.

"I'm sorry," somebody interrupts. "That piña colada looks really good and now I'm tempted to order one."

I look over at the slightly older man speaking to me. Brown hair with light eyes and scruff all around his chiseled jaw, it's his attractiveness that slips a giggle out of me. "Yeah? I mean, it's really good. I don't see why you shouldn't order one."

He chuckles from two barstools to my left. He then lifts his glass, shifting the dark liquor all around. "Yeah, who am I fooling ordering this? I just want a damn piña colada!"

I giggle again.

"I'm Finnegan, by the way," the man introduces himself. He stands up, extending an arm out to offer me a handshake. "But my friends call me Finny."

I set my drink aside and turn in my stool to extend my arm out. As I shake his hand, I say, "Finny, nice to meet you. I'm Joelle, but everyone calls me Jo."

"Likewise, Jo," says Finny after his firm handshake. I almost don't want to let go. Though, our hands fall to our sides as he takes a seat closer to me. "Here on vacation?" He makes conversation.

Timidly, I nod. I blame his attractiveness for having me feel so shy all of a sudden. "It's my first time here," I share. "You?"

Finny throws me a wide smile. "Not my first time here, nope... I don't have a gambling problem, I swear."

I laugh and hide my smile behind my straw. I take another sip. "Of course, not... Any places I should check out while I'm here?"

"Oh, there's a lot of things you could do here. I mean, for a newbie to Vegas, you have to visit the strip at night at least once."

"The strip? As in... club?"

Finny's eyes widen, immediately shaking his head. "Jo," he says my name as if we've been friends forever, and he holds a hand to his chest. "I meant the strip as in the strip. You know, Las Vegas Boulevard. All the lights? The fake Eiffel tower and the Fountains of Bellagio?"

I bring a hand over my face when I end up embarrassing myself in front of an attractive man I don't know. I let out a laugh then look at him again. "You see, and I knew it was called that! I was just- I'm sorry."

Finny laughs with me. "It's a common mistake, don't fret." He smiles at me and it's what soothes me—as well as another sip of my drink. "If you don't mind me asking, here alone?"

I hum after the coldness of my blended drink runs down my throat with ease. I then meet Finny's light eyes. "I'm-" I feel my phone vibrate in my tote again. "I'm not here alone, no."

"Whoever you came with, they're not keeping you company?" I watch as Finny then looks around.

"I needed a breath of fresh air... but he should be joining me any second," I then say, lying a little when I remind myself I shouldn't trust strangers.

Finny nods then shoots back his drink. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Jo," he tells me as he stands from off his barstool. "I should part. Enjoy Vegas while you're here."

I nod then switch over my right shoulder to look at him walk. "Thank, you. You, too, Finny!" I say, watching him walk off.

He was nice.

I'm about to take another sip, but my phone is vibrating once again. I sigh and give in to finally answer.

"Yeah, hello?" I didn't bother to check who had been calling.

"You're getting on my last nerve, you know."

I grin a little, but quickly erase it because I'm mad at him. "And that's my problem because?"

As I sip a lengthy sip of my drink, I hear him scoff. "Where are you?"

"Chill out," I say, throwing back the two words he likes to throw at me sometimes. "I'm in the hotel. Somewhere. I don't feel like telling you where though."

"You're sounding like a real brat right now."

I bring my thighs together, squeezing them tightly, when this kind of talk and alcohol don't bring out the best of me. "I charged something to the hotel bill, by the way. I hope daddy doesn't mind." Damn me for finding way too much joy in this.

"Didn't I say you have to earn what you want from now on, my spoiled brat?"

Swirling my straw around in my drink, I inhale softly through the line. I then say, "I don't remember that." I bite my lip to hold back a giggle.

"I want you back in this damn hotel room in an hour."

"Make it three." I let my laugh slip when I bargain.

He sucks in a breath, it's so sharp, I pick it up. "An hour and a half, Joelle. Or I'll come find you myself."

"Yes, daddy," I tease him through the line before hanging up the phone. Setting it above the bar table, I laugh to myself again when I decide that I'll show up when I damn please.

Again, I'm mad at him.

_

attractive man at the bar, finny... i may or may not imagine him as sebastian stan. HOT.

another reminder that i love you and i'm so thankful that you're still reading. this story is everything to me and i can't wait to keep sharing it with you!

stay safe,
mila!