Vegas had a weird charm to it that I'd never been able to describe properly to visitors. They came in and wondered how anyone could live here, pointing out that the strip was a shit show on the best of days, and living in the desert was nobody's ideal. A visitor had once commented that Sin City was like a giant amusement park for adults.

But Vegas meant something different for me. There was the strip, sure, and all that went with it. The gambling and the tourists, the pleasure, and the sin. But when you stepped away from all that, there was something romantic about the sunbaked scenery and living alongside a pulsing hotbed of excitement.

A majority of the greats had called this place home over the years, if only for a day or two. It wasn't where I wanted to live for the rest of my life, but it was where I was building my career now. Once I was financially secure, I'd look into other places to work and live. Maybe another big city, but one with a different kind of vibe like Chicago or New York. Some place where Mikala could see snow.

And I wouldn't mind a change from the virtually non-stop heat that I'd lived with every summer while growing up in Oklahoma, and then moving here.

I stepped through the front door of the little rancher I shared with my roommate, Tiffany, and sighed happily as the air-conditioned breeze hit my face. I definitely wouldn't miss these summers if I was able to move further north.

“How did it go?” Tiffany called from the kitchen. “You're just in time to tell me all about it before I head to work.”

I slipped off my heels and walked across the cool tile to the kitchen. Tiffany was chugging a glass of water, no doubt hydrating for the long night of dancing ahead of her. Her copper colored pixie cut shone in the evening light. It was pin straight, ends a little frayed. I expected she'd be getting a haircut soon, since she never kept one hairstyle for long, but she was the sort of beautiful that could wear pretty much anything and look good. At twenty-six, she looked at least four or five years younger than she was, and I reasoned she'd probably keep having people think she was in her twenties well into her thirties.

“I think it went well,” I said as I leaned against the counter. “They seemed to be enjoying themselves when I left. I got them into the hotel. That's half the battle.”

She laughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her skin sparkled from her glittery moisturizer, but she hadn't yet put on her make-up. She usually saved that for when she got to the club, preferring instead to stay fresh-faced as long as possible. Even without it, her skin was flawless, her blue eyes electric.

She was the sort of woman other women wanted to hate simply on principle, but she was so tough and fiercely loyal that I couldn't help but love her.

I texted her earlier to tell her about the assignment Earl had given me, and to ask if she'd be around this weekend to watch Mikala if needed. Unfortunately, she was working tonight, which meant I'd been forced to ask Elroy to keep my baby a bit longer. I wanted to leave my plate open in case Dorian and Enzo needed anything. One more night with her father versus the advantages I could give her if I landed this job seemed worth it.

“That's the best you can hope for, I think.” She smiled, teeth perfectly white and straight. “And I meant to text you back, but I fell asleep. I can totally watch Mikala for you the next couple days if you need me to. After I get off tonight, I'll be free until Wednesday evening.”

I sagged with relief. “That means a lot, thanks. I don't know how long those guys are staying, and I want to stay free in case they need something. I know it's a huge pain in the ass, but this could mean a huge promotion for me.”

“Think nothing of it, my love.” She glanced down at the time on her phone on the counter, then shoved the device into her purse. “Gotta get going. Lots of horny men waiting to ogle my goodies and put some money in the bank.” She winked at me as she headed for the door, calling over her shoulder as she went, “I'm grabbing milk on the way home, so don't worry about running to the store!”

“Thanks!”

When I told people I lived with an exotic dancer, they usually pictured some big-boobed girl with hair extensions, plastic surgery, and a drug habit, but that wasn't Tiff at all. In fact, at most of the high-class strip clubs in Vegas, pretty much the only part of that description that applied was the plastic surgery, which was usually related to the large breasts. Tiffany had an athletic build, and the last man to suggest she get implants had gotten a knee to the crotch. Granted, he'd been grabbing her ass at the time, but I was pretty sure she was just as pissed about the comment as the groping. If the men at the club had known that, in addition to the ballet classes she'd taken growing up, she'd been kickboxing since she was nineteen, I doubted they would've dared to look at her cross-eyed.

The best thing was, she was just as fierce when it came to protecting Mikala and me. She'd taken us in when we'd had nowhere else to go, supported me, given me the strength I'd needed to raise my daughter. I didn't know what I would do without her.

As I heard the door close behind her, I checked my phone and saw that Elroy had texted me.

ur gonna owe me big time 4 this be here at 8 tomorrow or there's gonna be hell 2 pay I got shit 2 do

I sighed, half because of his atrocious grammar, and half because that was about what I'd expected from him. It was always about him, even when it came to our daughter. He took her on weekends when it was convenient for him, then used it as leverage against me. I had a bad feeling I'd be paying for this extra night, but right now, it was worth the future cost.

At least most things seemed to be going my way today. An amazing job opportunity, Elroy had at least agreed to keep Mikala, and Tiffany was getting milk on her way home. That meant I could enjoy the rest of the milk in the fridge in my cereal for dinner without feeling guilty, and that I had the whole place to myself for the next eight hours or so.

Well, unless the Gianelli brothers needed something from me.

Dorian's image immediately popped up in my mind, though I knew it hadn't been far to begin with. There was something about him.

His suave, charming smile. The way his hair curled over on his temple, likely the trace of a cowlick he’d tamed over the years. Or at least attempted to tame.

And his body. God, his body! I smiled just thinking about it. The simple dress slacks and white dress shirt had been perfectly tailored – no doubt specifically for him – and they showcased his athletic build and long, lean legs.

He probably looked even more amazing naked.

A blush crept up my cheeks, and not for the first time, I found myself wondering how long it'd been since a man had made me blush. I was only twenty-four, but I knew it'd had been years. Probably not since before Mikala was born. Definitely not long after.

Yet Dorian had made it happen. More than once. A look, a smile. Just the thought of him was enough to bring it on.

A thin strand of desire coiled in my stomach, new and unexpected enough to make me catch my breath. When I first met Elroy, I'd experienced that head spinning, stomach clenching sort of arousal. But I was a teenager then, and I'd learned all too quickly that it didn't last.

I pushed the thoughts aside as I made my way to the bathroom, wishing I could take a long, leisurely bath and relax the rest of the evening. I had to be close to my phone and able to leave if he – if they – needed something.

But I also needed to get some sleep in case a call came in the middle of the night.

Except I was far too tense to sleep. I was too keyed up to even manage to drift like I had so many times when Mikala was first born, and I'd been worried I'd sleep through her crying.

There was one way, I knew, I could ease some of this tension. In the three years since I left Elroy, I hadn't done it often, and perfunctory had always been the word for it. Right now, however, I found myself wanting to do it. Needing it, actually, and for more than just the release.

It was definitely unprofessional. But who was going to tell me I couldn't fantasize about the handsome high roller in the privacy of my own home? It had been a long time since I'd had the place completely to myself, and something about my afternoon with Dorian had put me on edge in a way no interaction with a man had in a very long time.

I slipped out of my pencil skirt and unbuttoned my shirt, letting them slide silently to the floor as I crawled on top of the covers of my bed. For the first time in years, I let myself indulge in reverie.

I imagined that the cotton under my palms and knees was silk instead. The silk of his bedspread, perhaps. Fortunately, I knew what the suite I'd given them looked like, so I was able to create a quite vivid picture in my head as I leaned back against the pillows.

I closed my eyes and let the hand that slid along the curve of my breasts turn into his hand. I remembered the way it felt in the brief moment I'd held it – rough and calloused. I tried to imagine how it would feel if he touched me, how my body would quiver and quake for him.

I flicked open the front clasp of my bra and moved my hand over bare skin. As my free hand slid across my belly, I squeezed my breast. A shiver ran through me as I teased my nipple, rolling and tugging the sensitive flesh. I was already wet by the time my finger dipped between my folds and started massaging that delicate bundle of nerves.

Dorian's smile flashed behind my closed eyelids. He seemed like the type who rarely smiled, and almost never smiled with any sincerity. He was a brooder, the sort of man who worried over a problem until he found a solution. Now, I pretended that all that focus was being applied to me and my pleasure.

I knew I was getting a bit overly detailed in my fantasy, but hell, it was my fantasy, wasn't it?

I could almost feel his mouth moving across my skin. Light kisses over my breast and down my stomach, heading down to where my fingers were still moving in tight, slow circles. I let out a soft moan as I imagined what it would be like to have his mouth on my breast, licking and sucking my nipples. If he'd use his teeth or be gentle. If he'd work a finger into me while still paying attention to my breasts, or would that be when he'd start moving down between my legs.

I pictured him hiding his smile against my thigh, the faint scruff on his cheek rough against my soft skin. Maybe his raven-black hair would be a little messed up, but neither of us would care. I'd just want to run my fingers through it, see if it was as soft as it looked.

And then, as he buried his head between my legs, I'd cry out his name...

I arched up and moaned, orgasm beating at the fringe of my awareness. I was nearly there, and each stroke of my fingers brought me closer to ecstasy and further away from reality. Deeper into my fantasy.

The hot press of his lips on my clit, the movement of his finger inside of me, and a dark chuckle as I came apart in his hands...

I cried out and fell back on the bed, shuddering with the force of my climax. Holy shit, that was intense. When was the last time I'd come that hard?

I just lay there for a while, letting my breathing and pulse slow as I enjoyed the peace and quiet.

It'd been a little over the top, I supposed, but given the fact that I would never actually sleep with Dorian, that wasn't really a problem for me. He wouldn't be interested in someone like me. I had more baggage than a commuter train and was no more glamorous than any random woman he could find anywhere. I had no doubt that Dorian Gianelli dated supermodels who didn’t do anything more strenuous than pose and probably wouldn't drink out of the tap if they were dying of thirst.

The day had been long and stressful. I was exhausted, especially after that orgasm, and now all I wanted to do was eat, shower, and crash. I skipped the cereal and made myself some pasta and ate it in front of the TV. As soon as I finished eating, I showered and then headed straight back to bed. If nothing else, I should sleep well.

That was my last thought before I fell into unconsciousness.

At first, I thought it was my alarm. That loud, insistent ringing that somehow managed to rattle my bones from across the room. Then I realized that it was still dark out.

I sat bolt upright and lunged for my phone in the darkness, the light from its screen telling me where I'd left it. Panic sent adrenaline racing through my veins. Was it Mikala? Had something happened to her?

But it wasn't my ex's name on the caller ID. It was a private number, which confused me for a moment until I remembered that I currently had two VIP clients who could reach me by my personal cell.

“Hello?” I answered, hoping I didn't sound like I'd just woken up. Even if it was well past midnight.

“Briana, it's Dorian.”

My heart did a flip in my chest, and I couldn't decide whether it was a good thing or not. What Dorian said next, however, captured my attention completely.

“I need you to come right away. Enzo's in trouble.”