Brock hands the patient bellhop some folded-up cash and waits until the door is closed behind us before speaking, “Clearly, there was nothing I could do about that.”

“Clearly. But what about sticking your tongue down my throat?” I ask, hands on my hips. “What was that all about?”

“I might have gotten a little caught up in the moment.” He avoids looking at me, choosing instead to explore the suite. “She needs to know who you are to me.”

“Who I’m supposed to be, you mean.”

“Of course,” he says smoothly.

I sit on the edge of the bed and look around the suite. It’s simply stunning. There are two bedrooms, both with king-sized beds, a living and dining room. I can see into the bathroom from where I’m sitting and the sunken tub looks out over the strip through the windows that surround it. “This is gorgeous,” I say, running my hands over the ultra-soft bedspread. It reminds me of falling asleep on Brock’s bed and everything that led to this moment. Has it really only been four days? Not even.

“It’s the best suite with two bedrooms in this place,” he informs me. Leaning against the open door, he takes off his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves.

How the heck does he make a button-down and khaki slacks look so darn sexy?

“I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

I chuckle. “There would have to be something seriously wrong with me if I couldn’t find comfort here.”

“That’s why I know you’re perfect for this,” he murmurs. His glasses are off and I can see honesty in his eyes. “Thank you again, by the way.”

“Thank you. I could never have a weekend like this on my wages. I know you said to leave that stuff behind, but it’s the truth. This?” I wave my arms around, then motion toward my clothes and sandals. “I could never make this happen on my own.”

“By the time this weekend is over, you might not be thanking me. So I’ll accept any thanks while you’re willing to offer it.”

“That sounds pretty ominous. Are you trying to scare me?”

“You saw what she’s like. Impossible to deny, someone who always gets her way through sheer force of will. And now, we have to sit at lunch with her and her fiancé.”

There’s so much darkness in his voice, so much emotion, my heart goes out to him. I wish he would get over her. My stomach fills with resentment. She’s not that spectacular, for God’s sake.

But I guess, so much more spectacular than I could ever hope to be. And she has one more advantage over me—she has his heart.

* * *

The restaurant is just as beautiful as the rest of the hotel and very fancy. Not to mention filled with gorgeous people. It’s definitely not the sort of place I’ve heard about, the cheap buffets and windowless rooms where gamblers can’t tell if it’s day or night.

This is a totally different world. The midnight-blue ceiling is two-stories high while lit glass orbs hang suspended from thin cords throughout the room, giving the impression of luminous moons in the night sky. I can just imagine how much more lovely it would be at night, with the view of the Las Vegas strip outside the windows. It will be like dining in the sky.

Charlotte waves at us from her table.

My eyes immediately shift to the man sitting with her. He looks every inch like the kind of man I imagined she’d marry. He even pops the collar on his polo shirt and wears his sunglasses on the back of his head when he’s not using them. Holy jeez. She went from Brock to this guy? What’s her problem? Is she that desperate? No, she can’t be. Women like her don’t get desperate.

I squeeze Brock’s hand to let him know I’m with him in this, and he squeezes back. I wonder what he must be feeling right now. Insulted, if he’s got even a grain of sense. I know I would be. We’re both all smiles, though, when we reach the table.

“This is Trent,” Charlotte beams, introducing us both in turn. Brock extends his hand in greeting, which Trent shakes seemingly as an afterthought while checking something on the phone in his other hand. He doesn’t greet me. He doesn’t even look at me.

“So, you two.” Charlotte rests her elbows on the table, her chin nestled in her hands. “Tell me the story! How long have you been together?” She flashes a fake smile. “I didn’t even know Brock had a new girlfriend!”

“How would you know?” Brock points out. We’re sitting at a square table, one of us on either side, with Brock to my left. He makes a point of linking his fingers with mine on top of the table…in plain view.

She pouts sensuously at him.

Oh, how I want to slap her.

“Mark, of course. I expect Mark to tell me when something this important happens.”

Okay, I have to jump in here. “You know Brock and Mark. They’ll talk about business until the cows come home before switching it over to how Mark’s fantasy football team is doing. God forbid, they talk about anything important.” I give his arm a playful smack.

At this, his eyebrows fly upwards. “Besides,” he adds, “I was trying to be a gentleman. I asked him not to mention anything about us to you. It’s in poor taste to rub a relationship in an ex’s face. Don’t you think?”

She purses her lips and looks away, to where Trent is still on his phone. She very deliberately pulls his hand away from it and holds it in her own.

The romance is just flowing between these two. If they’re in love, I’m a unicorn.

The waiter comes and she looks up at him, the simpering expression dying from her face. “Plain salad with grilled chicken. A lemon wedge instead of dressing. Make a note to the chef to cut out all the fat from the chicken before grilling.”

I order a salad too, but a normal one with chicken, berries, and glazed nuts.

“Make sure there are no strawberries, though,” Brock tells the waiter.

I turn to stare at him, amazed that he remembered.

He looks into my eyes and touches my nose gently. “I wouldn’t want you coming out in hives,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” I whisper, before dragging my eyes away from his and turning to face Charlotte. I feel almost hypnotized by him.

She is watching us avidly. She smiles tightly. “I wish I could eat whatever I wanted right now, the way you can, but fitting into that dress tomorrow…well you’ll know all about it soon enough.”

I glance at Brock. “I’m sure I will.”

“How did you two love birds meet?” she asks eagerly.

I smile. “Well, I own several house cleaning businesses in Manhattan, and Brock reached out to us. I like to meet our high-profile clients in person, you know, get to know them a little better before being certain that our services are right for them.”

“And it was love at first sight,” Brock adds.

The tenderness in his voice makes my head whirl around in surprise, searching his face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he meant it. He winks at me and I realize he’s just acting. He must really want to put the screws to Charlotte.

Charlotte tilts her head to the side, frowning. If her forehead wasn’t so Botoxed, she’d be able to create some lines, but no such luck. “So you’re a housekeeper?” she asks, deliberately misunderstanding.

I make my voice saccharine sweet. “No, dear. I own the business.” She’d better not try to Google my name, or I’m screwed. I hadn’t thought about her challenging me like this.

Brock clearly didn’t consider it, either. “What about you?” he asks, breaking in, looking from Charlotte to Trent.

“Huh?” It’s literally the first sound the man has made outside of ordering a burger and fries. And another whiskey.

“You’re the real love birds here.” I grin. “The big day is tomorrow, there’s a huge party in your honor tonight. We want to hear more about you two. How did you meet? How did Trent propose?”

“Oh, it’s the sweetest story ever. Can I tell it, honey?” Charlotte coos.

“What? Yeah. Sure.” He barely glances up at her.

Brock coughs to cover up a laugh, but it’s a pretty poor attempt. I can see right through him, and so can Charlotte.

She decides to kick things up a notch, running her fingers through Trent’s hair like she’s grooming him. There is no tenderness or affection between them.

Well, this is how she wants to play it? Okay. I lean against Brock a little too. It’s a much more natural gesture than anything the two of them have exchanged so far. I actually feel comfortable being this close to him.

“We were in Paris…” She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. “At the top of the Eiffel Tower, it was so romantic.”

“Paris? It sounds very romantic,” I mumble.

Brock gives me a gentle kick under the table.

I kick him back. It’s either that or burst out laughing at how ridiculous this is.

She fixes me with a shrewd glare. “Oh? You’ve never been to Paris, have you?”

Shit. She’s smarter than I gave her credit for. “No,” I admit. “Which is why it seems so romantic to me. It probably isn’t as romantic in real life as I have it built up in my head.”

Another fake cough from Brock.

Her eyes narrow as she looks from my innocent face to Brocks’ politely blank expression. “Anyway,” she continues with a shake of her golden tresses. “There we were. At the top of the tower. And he got down on one knee and proposed and there was champagne and flowers and everybody around us clapped. It was one of those perfect moments.”

“Aww…that so sweet,” I say, and give myself an A+ for sounding so genuine.

“What about you two?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. Her eyes are sharp and watchful.

Brock clears his throat. “Ah, we were out on the balcony at my place. So, not as grand a gesture as Trent’s. To be honest, I had a different plan, but I couldn’t help myself.” He turns to gaze at me with sheep’s eyes. “There she was standing in her nightgown, shivering, and I couldn’t wait one second longer…”

Oh, my God, he is a far, far better actor that I gave him credit for. I was there, so I know that’s not how it went down, but hell, his version is so much better.

He nods at me.

Now, I know that it’s my turn to carry the torch. “Yeah, you warmed me up,” I say in an awed voice.

Something flashes behind his eyes. Then a slight smile touches his mouth and suddenly, I remember that mouth and what it did to me, what I wanted it to do.

“And you said it was the most romantic moment of your life.” He grins.

I burst out laughing because yes, I did say that.

We laugh together. For that moment, we’re not actors—we are actually joined by a secret memory.

Charlotte clears her throat.

I tear my gaze away from his sparking blue eyes and face her. “Oh, it might not have been Paris, but it was very memorable.” I admire my ring. “A girl doesn’t forget a night like that.”

Charlotte chuckles. “Remember when we went to Paris, Brock?” Her voice is deep with meaning.

I want to stab her with my fork. She’ll make a beautiful bride with one of her eyes gouged out. Maybe she can find a diamond-encrusted eye patch.

“Did we go to Paris? I can’t remember,” Brock replies.

Our food arrives then, and Charlotte uses it as an excuse to change the subject back to herself. She has plenty of bragging to do about her silly wedding plans if she’s going to make up for the burn Brock just delivered.

I’m proud of him. He’s handling this so well. It even seems like he’s having fun. As much fun as a person can have while getting their teeth pulled out, that is. This entire lunch feels like a trip to the dentist’s office.

It’s only when we’re alone in the elevator that either of us breathes a little easier. “You did brilliantly well,” he declares.

“Thank you. For the record, so did you.”

He runs a hand through his hair and I see the man behind the façade. Oh, sure, he’s handsome, cultured, sophisticated, wealthy and powerful, but he’s also a real person with real feelings. And seeing her with her new man—no matter how little he seems to care that they’re getting married tomorrow night—must have him a little shaken up.

“Who orders their burger well done?” I muse, leaning against the wall as we zip up to our room.

He laughs. “Yes, he’s something else. I wonder where they actually met and what he does with himself all day. I noticed, she wouldn’t let us ask.”

“Yeah, I noticed that too.” I smirk. “But nevermind, I now know about every single hoop she had to jump through to get just the right number of white lilies for the ceremony.”

“And not just white, but the correct shade of white,” he adds with a chuckle.

“I didn’t even know there was such a thing. I thought all lilies were white?”

“So did I,” he agrees.

We step off the elevator, me first as always.

Before parting ways inside the suite, I place a hand on his arm.

He turns to me with an enquiring expression on his handsome face.

“I just want to say something, and I really need for you to not take it the wrong way.”

“An interesting start,” he observes.

“Please. Listen to me.” It sounds stupid in my head, but I have to get it out. “I think you’re a genuinely nice guy. A little rough on the outside, maybe a little difficult to get to know. But decent…and honest…and very generous. And kind too. I really think it’s a real shame that Charlotte couldn’t see that for herself. She made a big mistake. Trent isn’t half the man you are.”

He gets that look on his face again, like he had at the restaurant. A sort of…I don’t know…amazement? He didn’t expect me to be so serious. “Thank you for saying that. I’m deeply touched.”

I nod. “It’s just that I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries.”

“Dani, I found you sleeping in my bed. There are only a few boundaries left between us. This isn’t one of them.” He reaches for me, sweeping the back of his hand over my cheek and making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “But thank you for being one of the only real, genuine women I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. Truly.”

“You’re welcome.”

He smiles before taking a step back, and turning in the direction of his room. The heels of his shoes tap on the polished floor. “The rehearsal dinner starts at six. We’ve been invited. The party’s after that.”

Oh. Goody. Because having lunch with them wasn’t enough. His door closes with a soft click, and I look out over the strip, as I go over the little moments since we got here. The looks she gave the two of us, especially after that kiss in the lobby. The digs during lunch. The way she kept bringing up my healthy appetite, now that I think about it—five times in total. Like I’m a pig for eating a salad with dressing on it. Her insinuation that I’m a cleaning woman, which I am, of course, but she’s not supposed to know that. So how dare she just assume. Stuck up, bitch!

Oh, it makes my blood boil.

She’s going to see what I’m capable of when I put my mind to it. She’s not the only one who can play mind games.

“Brock?” I go over to his closed door, and rap on it smartly with my knuckles.

“Yes?”

“Do you mind if I get my hair done for tonight? There’s a salon downstairs.”

He opens the door, and my eyes widen. His shirt is pulled out of his pants and unbuttoned all the way to his waist. And wow! Did someone say washboard abs! Reluctantly, I pull my eyes up to his face. He is holding his phone so I guess I must have interrupted a phone call.

“Of course not,” he says. “Shoot the works, whatever you want. Charge it to the room.”

“Thanks,” I mouth silently, because quite honestly, I feel robbed of sound.

He nods and closes the door again.

I exhale slowly. Oh, my God, the man is a Greek god. Taking a deep breath, I grin to myself. He said yes. Just you wait Charlotte. By the time this night is finished, you’ll see how stupid you were to let him go, and you’ll also know I’m no one to be played with either.

Brock deserves to have someone fighting in his corner.

And that someone is me.