I was relieved to hear him say it. Even though we’d spent an incredible night together, I hadn’t truly known if he’d want another night together. But his words, combined with a look that was both fond and hotter than the sun beating down on us, made me feel giddy.
Curtis misinterpreted my happy smile. “I know, right? Isn’t it amazing? Look at the palm trees everywhere!”
“Just don’t touch them right now,” Marcel warned.
I glanced at a nearby tree. It was made out of metal. “Why would anyone—”
I shut up as soon as I saw Marcel’s head shake. “What Mr. Bernardi is trying to ask is whether you’ve had a chance to send over the profit and loss reports yet?” he asked Curtis sweetly while blatantly eyeballing the rows and rows of empty chairs. “Or at the very least, the occupancy reports.”
Curtis blustered. “It’s very new. Word hasn’t gotten out yet. I’m sure those reports wouldn’t give you an accurate picture of the potential of this resort concept, but I’ve got a good feeling about it. And everyone knows successful businessmen operate on gut instinct. Right, Luca?”
A siren blared loudly, causing Marcel to jerk and grab onto my arm. I reached for his hand to reassure him when a mechanized voice followed the alarm. “Shark sighting! Everyone out of the water!”
The Jaws theme boomed from nearby speakers as the few kids and adults nearby screamed in fear and scrambled to exit the benign swimming pools. One little boy tripped and skinned his knee on the cement pool deck and promptly burst into loud sobs.
Marcel and I stared while Curtis chuckled. “Gets ’em every time.”
Marcel leaned in to whisper, “We could be having sex in the giant hotel bathtub right now, where the most dangerous predator in the water would be me. Instead, we’re here doing this.”
Suddenly and completely unexpectedly, I had one of those life-changing aha moments.
Why the hell would anyone with millions of dollars stand outside in the blazing Vegas heat assessing a ridiculous hotel concept when he could be in a luxury Bellagio suite with a beautiful man naked and willing in his bed… er, tub?
I turned to my cousin without a moment’s hesitation. “Curtis, Marcel is correct. I’m unable to make an accurate assessment without those reports. I’ll stay in Vegas tonight in case you can get your hands on them in the next few hours. Otherwise, I’ll be happy to take a look at them back in the office.”
I grabbed Marcel’s hand and pulled him toward the lobby door, nearly yanking him off his feet.
He let out a little amused huff of laughter before waving happily back at a stunned Curtis.
“Toodles!” he said before gifting me with a giant, shit-eating grin. “Was it the threat of imminent shark attack that scared you off?”
Giddiness bubbled up in my chest as I realized I had the entire rest of the day to spend with this funny, sexy, engaging man. “No. You got too close to the metal palm tree of death, and I was afraid you might singe yourself on it.”
Marcel skipped around in front of me and turned to face me. “Can we get married? I’ve always wanted to wake up married in Vegas. According to movies and romance novels, it’s a thing that can actually happen.”
We both laughed as we made our way through the lobby and out the other side to take the limo back to the Bellagio.
But as funny and far-fetched as the idea sounded in the light of day, the idea somehow took root and burrowed in deep throughout the rest of the afternoon and evening.
And the following morning, we woke up married in Vegas.
8
Marcel
You know how sometimes, after a momentous event, you can wake up and not remember for a split second until it all comes rushing back in with a gasping shock?
That’s how it is when you wake up married in Vegas.
I squinted at the platinum band on my ring finger. “What…?” I mumbled through a gluey mouth.
“You promised me you wouldn’t freak out.”
The rumble under my face reminded me I was plastered on Luca’s broad chest. His big warm hand ran up and down my bare back.
“No, ’course not. I would never,” I assured him, while also totally freaking out. What had I done last night? What had we done?
“We talked about this,” he said, shifting me so he could put both arms around me, as if he was worried I’d bolt.
He was right. We had. And it had made so much sense at the time.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be married to Luca Bernardi. As crazy as it was to have such thoughts about a near stranger, I actually did feel like he was inexplicably the man for me. And after spending the whole afternoon and evening together, I’d been drunk on the promise of a future with him. He’d smiled at me, and I’d known down to my pointy-toed shoes that I wanted to see that smile every day for the rest of my life.