somewhere more exciting to be.”
“Nothing’s more exciting to me than this table right now,” she purrs. “Unless you’re implying that I should be in bed with some hot, wealthy asshole who left his wife at home so he could have a little man-cation, find some arm candy, and gamble his money away.”
Pretty accurate. “That sounds about right.”
“And here you are.” She smiles, spreading her hands. When I don’t return the smile, or the flirtation, she peers more closely at me. “So what happened after you pulled the Irish goodbye with the ice queen? I can tell by looking at you that you two didn’t fuck. You’re way too pouty and high-strung. Losing your magic touch?”
Skylar the toga-wearing waitress returns with my water and asks Monica what she wants, though I notice her tone is significantly cooler than it was when she was taking my order.
“Dirty martini,” Monica says. “On his tab.”
After the waitress leaves I sip my water, wishing it were another whiskey now that Monica is here to monopolize my evening.
“You know, there’s no need to sit here all pent up by your lonesome. We’re in Vegas, after all, and I have my own suite. This is a situation in which friends help each other out.”
“Monica. I’m married.”
She laughs loudly. “Well, I never. It’s a cold day in hell when Luka Zoric doesn’t feel like fucking. God, what has that frigid little wifey of yours done to you?”
It takes all my willpower to keep a disastrous reply from flying out of my mouth. There’s a fine line that I need to walk with her. The Maxilene campaign is going to keep DRM in the black this fiscal quarter, and I can’t risk her walking away from the agency.
But I’m not in the mood for any of her shit, either.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, strolling over to the bar to close my tab.
When I return to the table, she’s halfway through her martini already and waiting for me with a smirk. “Are we getting out of here already?” she asks.
“I am,” I tell her. “I paid for another martini, so that’s on the way if you want it. Otherwise, see you on set tomorrow and have a lovely night.”
As I turn away, she grabs my sleeve, tugging me back.
“Luka, wait,” she says, her tone oozing seduction. “There’s one more thing. I seem to have…misplaced my panties.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, beyond exhausted with the sexpot shenanigans she’s made me put up with all week, I say, “I don’t think I can help you with that.”
She nibbles a fingernail, eyes rolling down my body. “So you haven’t found them yet?”
I haven’t found…
Oh, fuck.
It finally hits me. When Monica was all touchy feely with me over dinner, she must have slipped her underwear in my jacket pocket. She’d been pawing at me all night, so it’s no wonder I didn’t notice when it happened. Brooklyn must have picked up my jacket when I was in the shower. I’ll bet she was devastated to find them in my pocket. No wonder she locked me out.
What a douche she must think I am.
“Monica, we’ve known each other for a long time. I’ve always considered us friends,” I say, my voice dropping to a low, steely register. “And although you can be difficult to work with, I’m happy to maintain a relationship with you—on a professional basis.
“But it’s obvious I wasn’t clear enough with you before. So now I’m setting a boundary. From now on, you and I will communicate about business matters exclusively. I will be cordial and respectful and you will offer me the same courtesy. My personal life is off limits.”
“Why are you dancing around me like this?” she asks, frowning. “Are you playing hard to get? You know I won’t tell anyone. Brooklyn never has to know.”
My jaw clenches. The only reason I’m exercising restraint right now is because she’s a client. And the bar is full. The last thing I need is for pictures of us in a verbal brawl to explode all over the celebrity gossip sites and social media.
“You are not a good person,” I finally grind out.
With that, I stride out of the bar.
Once I’m out on the casino floor, I make a beeline for the nearest bank of elevators and punch the call button over and over again with impatience. As I ride the car up twenty-plus floors, I try to imagine the conversation that awaits me back in the room. How do you