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Is this common Vegas knowledge? I’m good friends with Charlotte Kincaid and I had no idea.

“And the Smiths are close with the Kincaids?” Charlotte has really moved up in the world. Maybe she could set me up on a date…. I don’t need someone rich, but I’d love a guy who was dependable. Stable. And who had medical benefits. Can I put that on a dating app?

“They do real estate business with Mason Kincaid. And one of them, Gris Smith, is marrying Arabella Kincaid.”

Royalty marrying royalty. That I understand.

Brittany scans the small gathering. “But the biggest fish in the Smith family is Triston Smith, Vegas’s billionaire playboy.” And she points at one of the men sitting on the end of one of the aisles.

I can only see the back of him, but his suit is cut to show off his broad shoulders and tapered waist. His hair is perfectly groomed, the back of his neck holding that slightest bit of tan that makes him look even more attractive. “If he’s a playboy, how come he doesn’t have a date?”

“I don’t know, but I know that Veronica Clairmont has been seen on his arm a lot lately. They’ve been on all the gossip blogs.”

Of course he dates a woman with a name like Veronica. It’s sophisticated and sexy. She’s probably blonde too, tall, model-thin, with the most amazing wardrobe.

I let out a long slow breath, refusing to sigh again. I can’t afford to live in a fantasy about scoring a date with a man like that. I’ll have to leave that to Brittany.

I’ve got to keep my head down and my focus on getting my brother healthy. Maybe after that…

“You may kiss the bride,” the justice of the peace calls across the assembled guests. I snap my head back up, setting my thoughts aside. The bride and groom kiss and I have to hold back another sigh, it’s so romantic.

They make their way down the aisle, the guests following them toward the patio doors.

As soon as the guests step outside, we’ll have to turn over the room.

Most say their hellos to the bride and groom stationed by the door and then move outside where bartenders wait to begin serving them. I see Charlotte standing next to Mason, his arm possessively placed around her waist, his hand splayed out on the small of her back. A stab of jealousy makes my chest tight. It’s not that I wish Mason was mine, I’d just like that kind of support. To be wrapped in a cocoon of strength like that.

A few guests remain in the room as we stand at the ready.

Finally, when there are only two people left, Triston Smith and an older woman, our coordinator takes a step forward. “We’ve only got fifteen minutes. I think we should start.”

We all rush out, folding up the chairs and setting them to the side. I’m careful not to look at Triston Smith or the older woman he’s talking to in quiet tones. I’m not sure if we should have waited, but we can at least give them the illusion of privacy.

But as Brian and I set up one of the tables and I toss the tablecloth over the top, the woman Triston was speaking withflags me by snapping her fingers. They’re covered in gaudy rings that click together as she waves her hand. “You,” she calls over to me, giving me a glare. “Is there anything to drink besides champagne? I’d prefer a Chardonnay.”

Triston looks at me too, our gazes colliding. I feel the color rise in my cheeks. If the back of him is attractive, his face is…just wow. Gorgeous dark brown eyes, strong cheeks and jaw, just enough softness in his lips to make him completely kissable. My whole body responds before I drop my gaze.

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll find that for you right away.” Brian huffs out a breath and I’m not sure if he’s irritated with me or her. Was I not supposed to serve her?

I’m in it now so I turn and practically run to the bar. Which is probably for the best.

I have never responded to a man like that, and I don’t welcome the reaction now. All that matters tonight is getting Mr. Stanley to bring me back for another function tomorrow.

I step out to the bar. “A guest inside wants Chardonnay.”

The bartender pours it for me. “This better not be for you.”

My lips part in surprise. “No. I…”

“Just kidding,” he gives me a wink.

First days suck. I rush back inside, looking for the woman who requested it. Instead, Triston Smith stands alone.

I stop dead, my eyes going wide as my tongue swells in my mouth. What do I do now?

“Allow me,” he steps up in front of me. But instead of taking the glass from my hand, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a card. As he takes the glass, he pushes the card into my hand.

“Sir?” I ask, staring down at the card.