Page 27 of My Horrible Arranged Marriage (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #20)

MINA

I ’d never been much of a gambler. Sure, I’d played a few rounds of blackjack during my last trip to Vegas, but that was more about the novelty of it than any real skill or strategy. The other players got mad at me when I didn’t hit when I was supposed to. I avoided it after that.

But tonight I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe it was the many cocktails we’d been sipping all evening, or maybe it was the way Isaac made me feel invincible.

We wandered into one of the casinos. I wasn’t even sure which hotel we were in. They all kind of looked the same. Isaac led me to a roulette table, his hand warm on my back. The dealer nodded at us as we took our seats, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp.

“Alright,” Isaac said, leaning in close so his breath tickled my ear. “What’s your lucky number?”

I thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Seventeen?”

He grinned and slid a stack of chips toward me. “Seventeen it is.”

I placed my bet on the number, feeling a little thrill as the dealer spun the wheel and sent the ball bouncing around the rim. Isaac leaned back in his chair, watching me with an amused smile.

“You look like you’re about to solve world hunger,” he teased.

“Shut up,” I shot back, though I couldn’t help laughing. “I’m concentrating.”

The ball landed on twenty-three. I groaned and pushed my chips away as the dealer swept them up.

Isaac chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of chips. Let’s try again.”

I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not going to give me some kind of strategy? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

He shrugged, his grin widening. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I like watching you figure it out on your own.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Fine. But if I lose all your money, don’t blame me.”

“Deal,” he said, sliding another stack of chips my way.

This time, I decided to mix it up. I placed a few chips on red and a couple on even numbers, spreading them out across the table. Isaac watched with an amused expression, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table.

The wheel spun again, the ball clattering around before finally settling on black twenty-eight. I groaned again, but Isaac just laughed.

“You’re getting closer,” he said, his tone teasing.

“Closer to what? Bankruptcy?” I shot back, though I was laughing too.

“Closer to figuring out that roulette is a game of luck, not skill,” he replied with a wink.

I gave it a few more turns before I decided I had lost enough money.

“Want to try some slots?” Isaac asked.

“I think I’m a terrible gambler,” I muttered.

“We could go back to the room, order room service and…”

“And take advantage of that tub?” I asked in a sultry voice.

“I swear we share a brain,” he joked.

We made our way back to the hotel. The moment we stepped into the elevator, I felt the tension. The chemistry between us always bubbled up. It was hard to ignore.

“I’ll start the tub and you order room service,” I suggested. “I think I’m better at drawing a bath.”

“Oh, you think so?” he asked with a grin.

I stopped and frowned. A thought crossed my mind. “Do you take a lot of baths with women?”

He chuckled and stepped into me. His hands grabbed my hips. “No. Never have. I have never drawn a bath ever, I don’t think, even alone.”

That made me feel better. I didn’t know why. I knew the man had a past. He dropped a kiss on my nose just as the elevator doors slid open. We made our way into our suite. He went right for the phone while I headed into the bathroom.

I turned the faucet, letting the water run hot. I poured in a generous amount of the lavender-scented bubble bath provided by the hotel. The steam began to rise, filling the room with a soothing aroma. I dipped my hand in to test the temperature, adjusting it until it was just right.

As I stood there, I couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Here I was, in a luxurious suite in Vegas, drawing a bath for Isaac Bancroft—a man who, just a few weeks ago, I would’ve sworn was nothing more than a charming distraction.

But he wasn’t just that anymore. He was something else. Something real.

I heard the door creak open behind me and turned to see Isaac leaning against the frame, his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips. “Room service is on its way,” he said, his eyes scanning the bathroom. “You weren’t kidding about being good at this.”

“Told you,” I said, gesturing to the tub. “Perfect temperature.”

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “You know, I could get used to this.”

“To what? Me drawing your baths?” I teased.

“To you,” he said simply, his voice low and serious.

My breath caught in my throat. There was something about the way he said it—so matter of fact, so unguarded—that made my heart skip a beat. I turned to check the water temp, hoping it wasn’t going to turn cold before the tub was filled.

He came up behind me, his mouth nuzzling against the back of my neck. “Get naked. Get in the tub. I’ll be in as soon as room service shows up.”

I laughed softly. “You’re awfully bossy tonight.”

“Only when it comes to you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear before he stepped back. “Now, get in. I’ll be right back.”

I watched him go, my heart still fluttering from his words. Slipping out of my dress, I stepped into the tub. The warm water enveloped me as I sank down. The bubbles rose around me. I leaned back, closing my eyes and letting the tension melt away.

A few minutes later, Isaac returned with a tray of food—cheese, fruit, and a bottle of champagne.

He set it down on the edge of the tub and began to undress, his movements slow and deliberate.

I couldn’t help but watch him, the way his muscles shifted under his skin as he pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his pants.

He climbed into the tub behind me, the water sloshing gently as he settled in. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me back against his chest. I sighed contentedly, leaning into him as he reached for a strawberry and held it up to my lips.

“Open,” he said softly.

I did as I was told, biting into the sweet fruit.

He watched me with a smile. “Good?” he asked.

“Mmm,” I hummed in agreement, savoring the taste.

He popped a piece of cheese into his own mouth before reaching for the champagne. He poured us each a glass and handed one to me. “To us.”

I sank lower in the water, my knees brushing his beneath the surface.

I felt that dreamy sort of fuzziness that only came from being drunk on life.

Not just the alcohol, but the fact that we’d danced in the middle of the Strip, gambled like idiots, eaten the best steak I’d ever tasted, and kissed like we didn’t care if the world watched.

I felt content. And safe. I could say anything to Isaac.

“I want to be a mom,” I said suddenly.

Isaac blinked. “What?”

I was startled at my own words. What the hell was that? “Sorry, that just came out.”

He shifted. “You do?”

I nodded, staring down at the water where the bubbles had thinned, revealing the way my knees poked out and his legs stretched long beneath mine.

“It’s stupid, probably,” I said quickly. “I mean, not stupid. I don’t think motherhood is stupid. I think it’s kind of everything.”

Isaac didn’t interrupt. He just waited. I probably sounded like a loon.

“When I was little, I used to line up all my dolls in a row and give them names and wrap them in blankets and pretend they were cold, or hungry, or scared. And I’d feed them and rock them and talk to them like I was their whole world.”

I laughed softly at the memory.

“My dad used to say I was the only five-year-old he knew who needed a calendar to manage her playtime because I took being a dolly mom so seriously. But it was more than that. I always wanted someone to take care of. My friends, too. I was the one who carried tissues and extra band-aids and snacks in my backpack in middle school. When someone was sick, I brought them soup. When someone was dumped, I let them cry on me until my shirt was soaked.”

Isaac hadn’t said a word. He was still. I knew he was probably thinking about the quickest way out of this tub and suite. But I couldn’t stop myself.

“I know I’m a little selfish sometimes,” I went on.

“And vain. And kind of dramatic. But deep down, I know that someday it’ll all shift.

I’ll be the one waking up early to make pancakes shaped like stars.

I’ll be the one kneeling beside a scraped knee or holding someone’s tiny hand in mine during a nightmare.

Every ounce of myself I have—one day I’ll pour that into a little person. And I’ll finally feel full.”

I stopped, my throat catching.

Isaac’s expression didn’t shift. He just stared at me, and I started to feel exposed. Raw. Like I’d peeled my skin back and shown him something I’d never dared show anyone else.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “That was a lot.”

His voice, when it came, was low and steady. “Don’t apologize.”

I couldn’t look at him. “It’s just something I want,” I said. “Not soon, I mean, not this year or whatever. I’m not baby-trapping you, I swear.”

His laugh was soft and caught me by surprise.

“I’m serious,” I muttered, even as my cheeks burned. “I’ve never said it out loud before. Not even to Sampson.”

Isaac went quiet again. The water around us had gone still.

“I’ve never told anyone this before either,” he said finally, his voice just above a whisper. “Because nobody would ever take me seriously.”

I looked up.

He met my eyes. “But I want to be a dad. I think about it more than I probably should.”

Something in me lifted—rose like steam from the tub and filled the space between us.

“Really?”

He nodded. “I think I always have. I had this dream, for a long time, that one day I’d have a little girl who’d sit on my shoulders and pull my hair while we walked through Central Park. Or a son who thought I was some kind of superhero.”

“You’d be an incredible father,” I said, the words catching in my throat. “I can see it.”

“I didn’t think anyone else could.”

I shifted toward him, moved by instinct, drawn to something deeper than anything we’d said or done before.

This was him giving me a piece of himself, soft and unscripted, and trusting me not to break it.

“You make me feel safe,” I whispered. “Like I could tell you anything and you’d hold it gently.”

Isaac reached for my hand beneath the water. “You can.”

“I trust you.”

His gaze searched mine. “I trust you, too.”

I climbed into his lap slowly, the water sloshing around us as I straddled him. His hands found my waist, warm and firm, and when I kissed him, it was more than just heat. It was connection. It was vulnerability and desire and something so fragile I almost didn’t want to name it.

I was ready for him. It took only a second for me to adjust my body over his, and I slid down his full length without thinking twice. It felt too good. I should have asked about a condom, but the moment felt too right.