got hold of Carlo Black’s son, they wouldn’t let go. He’s a good friend.
“Actually”—I look down at my Tag Heuer—“he has one minute left.”
“I don’t think Perry Adams is gonna make it from Vegas to Miami in one minute.” Brad tosses a stack of photographs on my desk, and I pick up the pictures, browsing through the first couple, seeing the corrupt prick laughing at a poker table. Has he forgotten that he’s got a cold-blooded killer to satisfy? His head is tossed back where he sits with stacks of chips in front of him. “Looks like he’s having a whale of a time too,” I muse, dropping the pictures and leaning back in my throne, stroking my cupid’s bow in thought.
“He’s avoiding my calls.” Brad adds to Adams’s list of wrongs. “What’s his game?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, wondering how any man could be so fucking stupid. He’s been falling all over himself to get me Byron’s Reach and take my money to fund his efforts to become mayor. And all of a sudden he doesn’t give a shit?
“We need that marina.” Brad hates anyone stating the obvious, so when I raise a brow at him, he rolls his eyes. “We should go straight to the Jepsons.”
“You can’t legally buy land without a lawyer. Besides, I want Adams in power too. I’m fifteen million down, and so far I’ve got fuck all to show for it except a thirst for his blood.” I want to slam my fist on the desk. But I don’t. Never show your frustration. Looking down at the pictures, I ask, “When were these taken?”
“A few hours ago. He’s still there. Had it confirmed by the Aria’s security.”
I stand, fixing my jacket. “Get the jet ready.”
Chapter 4
ROSE
* * *
The dress isn’t my taste, but it’s what he likes. Short. Revealing. Strapless. Nothing like his wife would wear. Or could wear.
The style is a far cry from what my tall body feels comfortable in, because at five foot nine, a short dress is shorter on me than the average woman. Not that I’m here to feel comfortable. I’m just here. In a tarty red dress. I hate it. It screams whore. But that’s what I am.
The fire red is definitely me, though. I’ll keep telling myself that. It’s a way of accepting something that’s out of my control. My whole life is out of my control, but this red? I would have picked this color. Against my tan skin and mahogany hair, the shade looks like it was made for my coloring. It may well have been. Perry Adams is nothing if not lavish with his money when it comes to me. But I don’t want his money. I don’t want his gifts or his attention or his sweaty body pounding into me. I don’t want to be here, and as soon as Nox has what he wants, I’ll be out. Well, away from Perry Adams, anyway. Who knows who my next target will be. Now he’s brought me back to my homeland, the possibilities for him are endless.
“You look gorgeous, Rose.”
I look up to the mirror as I secure a diamond in my ear, calling on the smile he loves so much. “Thank you.” I turn and rest my backside on the dresser in Perry’s hotel suite of the Aria. He’s wearing one of his signature navy suits. His power suit, that’s what he calls it.
He approaches, and I quickly locate the invisible barrier and pull it down so that when he touches me, I won’t shudder. The tip of his finger rests on my forearm. “I’m not sure how I feel about you out on your own while I’m taking care of business.”
Perry Adams is not a stupid man. He insisted I accompany him to Vegas where he’s gambling with the best of them, rubbing horns with other political types, however, outside of this suite, we won’t be seen together. But he needs to know I’m close. Needs to fuck me to make him feel even more powerful after he’s been busy fighting legal battles by day and aiming for mayor of Miami by night. And maybe I’m here because he’s possessive. He doesn’t want me back in Miami where there’s no one to watch me. Where I could potentially meet someone closer to my twenty-five years. Someone single. I laugh inside at the very notion. It’s a ridiculous notion. If I ever feel like drowning with a weight tied to my ankles, I