Page 12 of The Girlfriend Card (Vegas Sin #4)

Rehearsal

Dakota

P alm trees rolled past in a blur as I cruised south on Paradise Road. The drive to Olivia’s place was only ten minutes away, yet it seemed like an eternity. I looked good in my suit, but I felt like hell, my stomach twisted in knots, my nerves on edge, and my mind racing a million miles a minute.

What if I screw up?

What if Olivia backs out at the last minute?

What if we’re unconvincing and Mr. Capuano calls us out?

What if it all goes wrong?!

But it was way too late to back out now—this dinner was happening, one way or another.

“Turn right on East Tropicana Avenue,” the Porsche’s navigation system advised me in a friendly female voice. I trusted her commands. With my mind fully occupied, I was practically driving on autopilot. “Turn right on Royale Place.”

Only when I saw the dancing casino hotel lights did I realize where the GPS had taken me: the Grand Royale.

“What the fuck.” Confused, I rode the brakes and approached slowly. “This can’t be her place.”

The computer navigator disagreed with a friendly ding. “Arrived at your destination!”

“No no no … aw, hell. I’m gonna be late.”

Convinced I’d entered the wrong address into the GPS, I pulled over and parked at the end of the queue of cars waiting outside the hotel’s entrance. I dug into my trouser pocket for my phone, a wave of panic coursing through my veins, and pulled up Olivia’s text.

To my astonishment, though, the address she’d given me was the exact same one I’d entered into the GPS. And that address matched the one written on the awning of the enormous casino hotel.

I rapidly tapped out a text to Olivia. “Hey, are you staying at the Grand Royale? Cuz that’s where your address took me.”

“Yup! Be out in a sec!”

I let out a massive breath of relief.

But now I had more questions, like, why the hell was she staying at a hotel? She said she was back home for the summer … so … shouldn’t she be at her home?

Whatever. You already know this chick’s kinda weird. Who knows what her situation is?

I killed the engine, hopped out, and walked to the front so I could greet “Jane” when she arrived.

A black car waited towards the front of the queue.

I wouldn’t have noticed it at all, except the door opened and a middle-aged driver climbed out.

Leaning against his car, he folded his arms and watched me.

Are you giving me the stink eye? I thought, and stifled a laugh. The lucky fuck should count his blessings that I had somewhere important to be and couldn’t afford to mess up my suit. If he looked at me like that any other time, we would’ve had a problem.

Loser, I thought, turning my attention elsewhere.

I glanced up at the colossal building, my neck straining at its towering presence. Its signage glowed, Grand Royale .

Is this a bad omen?

Because the Grand Royale wasn’t just any casino hotel. Sal Capuano owned a number of casino hotels in Vegas, but the Grand Royale was his flagship. The crown jewel of his empire. His biggest, most important—

In an instant, my train of thought was derailed by a staccato rhythm of heels on the pavement. I didn’t even have to look—whoever this woman was, she looked absolutely amazing tonight, and was killin’ it with that sexy strut. I could hear it in the confident click-clack of her walk.

As I turned my head to catch a glimpse, my heart skipped a beat, because deep down, I already knew this was my girl—this was Olivia.

Even so, the second I laid my eyes on her, she stole my breath away.

Olivia moved towards me gracefully, draped in an elegant but alluring scarlet red dress that hugged her hourglass figure.

I could tell she was hot during our interview, but damn, I had no idea she looked like this.

Her round breasts, bouncing with every step, begged for my eyes.

I stole a quick glance down her plunging neckline. Good lord.

She stood before me, smiling radiantly, and for a second, I was too tongue-tied to speak.

“Hello, Jane,” I managed to croak out at last. “You are … wow. Beautiful.” The knot in my throat tightened as my eyes wandered up and down her long, toned legs. “You really look stunning tonight.”

“Thanks.” She smirked. “But did you just call me Jane again?”

“Yeah, but on purpose this time. I’m getting into character.”

She giggled. “Oh, I see. We’re rehearsing.”

“That’s right. So from now on, you’re Jane.” I slid my hand around her waist and started walking her to my Porsche. “My smokin’ hot girlfriend.”

“Let’s get one thing clear.” Olivia casually removed my hand from her side. “Just because I agreed to do this doesn’t mean you have permission to put your hands all over me.”

I opened the passenger door for her. “I guess that means you won’t be wanting to pull over somewhere so we can practice kissing?”

“Nice try.” She laughed as she climbed in. “But that definitely won’t be happening, either.”

“But don’t we want to look like a real couple?” I asked, still holding her door. “Won’t my boss think something’s up if we aren’t showing any PDA?”

“You’d be surprised at what little physical affection it takes for two people to convince others they’re dating.” She put her seat belt on and stared up at me. “Besides, do you think your boss is going to ask you to shove your tongue down my throat at dinner?”

“I mean …” I grinned and stole another glance down her long legs. “If he did, I definitely wouldn’t complain.”

She rolled her eyes. “Close my door already, will you?”

I shut the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine fired with a hungry growl. I cast a sideways glance at Olivia, waiting for her to say something, or give some sort of reaction—but it never came.

“Really? Nothing?” I asked, disappointment in my voice.

“Hm?”

“Usually, when girls get into my car, they’re like, Ooooh! I’ve always wanted to be in a Porsche before! Or, Wow, I’ve never been in a car this nice in my life! ”

Olivia gave a careless shrug. “I’m not really a car girl.”

“Apparently not.” I shifted into first gear. “By the way, did you know your Uber driver is outside the hotel?”

A note of confusion filled her voice. “Uber driver?”

“The fucker was mean-mugging me a minute ago.” The Porsche growled as I gave her a little gas, and we eased up alongside the black car. “This creep, right here. Look—he’s still staring! The fuck is his problem? Want me to tell him to fuck off?”

“No!” She motioned for me to drive. “Just go. Go, go!”

I did as she asked, and we pulled onto the main road.

“I’m surprised you’re not freaked out,” I said.

“You get an Uber ride from a guy and he’s still hanging around your hotel hours later?

That’s just weird, if you ask me. He’s stalking you or something.

He’s probably in love with you.” I chuckled.

“I guess I can’t blame the poor bastard.

If I were an old man who drove an Uber for a living, and you climbed into my car, I’d probably stalk you, too. ”

She groaned. “That’s weird. Don’t be creepy.”

“Oh, I’m creepy? Not the Uber driver who’s stalking you because he’s in love with you?”

“He’s not in love with me, and he’s not stalking me, either.”

“Then why’s he hanging outside your hotel?”

She didn’t answer. She only buried her face in her hands. “I really wish you hadn’t watched me leave the cafe. I told you not to.”

I shrugged. “So you took an Uber. What’s the big deal? Do you not own a car? Is that what you’re so embarrassed about me finding out?”

She cast her gaze out her window and lowered her voice. “No, I don’t own a car.”

“Well, with thirty grand, you can buy one.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“You say that a lot, don’t you?”

She sighed. “I don’t know how to drive, Dakota.”

“Seriously? You don’t know how to drive?” I laughed. “Are you even American?”

“See? This is why I didn’t want you to know. It’s embarrassing …”

“No need to be embarrassed. It’s just rare, that’s all.” I gave her a smile. “If you want, I can teach you how to drive.”

Touched, her cheeks dimpled with a small smile. “That’s actually sweet of you to offer.”

“I’m serious. I’ll be glad to do it,” I said. “By the way, why are you staying at a hotel? I thought you lived in Vegas?”

She grumbled. “I do.”

“So why aren’t you at your home?”

“I’m not really happy being there right now.”

“Why not?”

“I’d rather not get into it,” she said curtly, and quickly changed subjects. “How far to your boss’s house?”

“He lives near Summerlin. So about thirty minutes.”

“Then let’s make smart use of our time, yeah? I need to know everything about you and Jane. Tell me all you can.”

I nodded. “Good idea.”

It was like walking a tightrope, trying to give Olivia the info she needed, without explicitly telling her I was a pro hockey player and my “boss” was Mr. Capuano.

I know it’s kinda fucked up and selfish of me, but I was seriously worried that if Olivia knew we were going to the house of a guy who might very well be a mafia boss, she might get cold feet and back out on me.

And that was a risk I just couldn’t take.

Plus, if I’m being honest? I liked keeping the ace card up my sleeve—that I’m a pro athlete—for the right moment. When played at the right time, that card will make a woman, any woman, melt in your hands.

“Can you tell me anything useful about your boss?” she asked, frustrated at the lack of detail I’d given her so far.

“There is something else.” I scratched at my neck. “But I’m kind of afraid to tell you because I don’t want you to get scared.”

Startled, she leaned away from me. “Uh, what? Now you have to tell me.”

“How do I put this?” I stroked my chin and stalled for time. “He’s um. A family man.”

“Okay …” Her eyes narrowed skeptically. “And why do you say it like that?”

“He’s Italian. Get my drift?”

“Are you implying he’s in the mafia because he’s Italian?” She tutted. “Because if you are, that’s so unbelievably stupid and disappointing.”

I grinned, relieved. “You’d like my friend, Isabelle. She said the exact same thing.”