Page 17 of The Girlfriend Card (Vegas Sin #4)

Matchmaking Magic

Ottavia

A s we neared the city and the familiar sight of the Grand Royale came into view, a pang of disappointment ran through me.

Our drive had ended in the blink of an eye.

The laughter and connection we’d shared during the drive felt too precious to let go of so soon.

But as Dakota pulled off the road and brought the car to a stop outside the hotel entrance, it seemed like our time together was coming to an end.

Did our time together have to end, though? The night was still young … but I truly didn’t know how Dakota felt about me.

“Welp,” he said, turning to look at me. “Here we are.”

He left the engine running, the gentle rumble of the Porsche underscoring the tension between us. I looked at him, searching his eyes for any sign of reluctance. Did he feel the same warmth, the same magnetic pull towards me, that I felt for him? Or had this been just another ride for him?

“Here we are,” I agreed. “Thank for you, um, the strangest date I’ve ever been on in my life.”

He chuckled, a gentle sound that filled the car with warmth. “Yeah, this entire day was, uh, something else.”

“Shame it has to end, no?” I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, my heart jumped in my throat.

Dakota glanced at me, his expression conflicted.

“I … don’t want it to,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “But Ottavia, even if your dad’s not in the mafia …? He still runs my life.”

My heart sank, but I understood. The concept certainly wasn’t anything new to me.

“I’ll be honest,” Dakota began, his voice tinged with longing and frustration. “For the last ten or so minutes, I was getting myself all psyched, thinking what I should do or say during this very moment.” His eyes jumped to mine. “Because I really wanted to give you a goodnight kiss.”

“Oh?” The honesty of his admission made me giggle. I’d had no idea! He was so cute and confident to even mention it. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he said.

There’s still time! I thought, biting my lip. Just do it!

“But … uh … I can’t.” Dakota cast his gaze away from me. He gestured up ahead. At the front of a line of parked cars, Florin stood posted outside his black car, occasionally stealing glances in our direction. “That’s your boy, isn’t it? Fluoride?”

I laughed. “It’s Florin, not Fluoride.”

“What’s his deal? Is he a spy?”

“He’s not a spy! He’s my driver.”

“Seems awfully protective. Are you sure he’s not spying on you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. He’s been my driver my whole life. He could’ve tattled on me for all the trouble I got into as a teen, yet he never once did.”

“Or maybe Fluoride did rat you out—but he’s such a useful spy, your dad couldn’t punish you, because he didn’t want to blow Fluoride’s cover.”

I giggled. “His name is Florin! Not Fluoride!”

“Whatever his name is. You know I’m right.”

“Hm. Maybe you are,” I said, playing along. If he didn’t want to kiss me in front of Florin? Fine … I just had to get him away from Florin. “If you’re so worried about spies, you could walk me up to my room?”

His smile reached his eyes, and he switched off the engine. “I would be glad to.”

“Yay,” I said, trying to sound understated, as if my heart wasn’t currently swelling with anticipation at the thought of his lips on mine.

I climbed out of the car. When Dakota wasn’t looking, I gave Florin a little wave, who responded with a head nod. Dakota climbed out, too, and led the way into the Grand Royale.

The hotel doors slid open, the evening air coming alive with an electrifying energy. Guests rushed about the bustling lobby in a flurry of activity, chatting, laughing, announcing their plans to win big at the adjoining casino.

Once we’d gotten lost in the crowd—and away from Florin’s prying eyes—Dakota felt comfortable enough to offer his arm to me.

I took it, but I couldn’t resist teasing him. “You do realize my dad owns this hotel, right?”

“Yeah, so what?”

I gave him a devious smirk. “Well, if he really wanted to spy on us, all he’d have to do was check the security tapes and catch us together.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” He grinned and gestured towards the exit. “Because hey, I can go, if you really want me to. Hell, it’d probably make my life a lot easier if I did—”

“Noo!” I laughed, holding onto his arm tighter. “Don’t go!”

He grinned. “Just kidding. I’m not going anywhere. So, uh, where are we headed?”

“Over there.” I gestured towards the elevators, and we made our way over.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked as we walked.

“Please, do.”

“I like your name,” he said. “Your real name. Not Jane, not Olivia, but Ottavia . Ottavia is a sexy-ass name.”

I laughed. “Thank you. I think Dakota’s a sexy name, too.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty sexy,” he said cockily. “What does Ottavia mean?”

“It’s Italian for eight.”

“Eight? Why eight?”

“I was born on the eighth day of the eighth month.”

“August eighth, huh. That’s easy to remember. Maybe I’ll get you something for your birthday?”

“I know what you can get me!” I said, bumping him with my side. “You can give me those driving lessons you promised.”

“Nah. That’s sooner. That’ll be part of your payment for tonight.”

“Works for me,” I said, and pressed the elevator call button. “What’s Dakota mean?”

“I dunno. I never looked it up.”

“Really?!” That surprised me. But since we were waiting for the elevator, I whipped out my phone and tapped dakota name meaning into my browser. “Aw. Cute. It means friend.”

“Friend?” He locked eyes with me. “That’s good.”

“Why?”

“Because, Ottavia.” He lowered his voice, suddenly sounding solemn. “I think that’s probably what we should stay. Friends. You know?”

Wha’? I felt the blood drain from my face. Was he serious? Wasn’t he just talking about kissing me a moment ago?

But cracks began to break his serious facade, and he couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Kidding! Oh, man. You should see yourself right now.”

“What the hell?!” I squealed.

“Hey, I told you I’d get you back.”

“You jerk.”

“Me?! You had me believing your dad was in the mafia!”

“You already convinced yourself of that! All I did was play along!”

The elevator announced its arrival with a chime.

We stepped on, its doors sliding shut and enclosing us in a private space.

The sudden ascent to the penthouse floor created a fluttering sensation in the pit of my stomach, amplifying the nerves that had been brewing inside me.

With a deep breath, I mustered the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at the back of my mind since the dinner, when my dad showed me that video.

“Can I ask you something about that video, Dakota?” I asked, attempting to conceal the small twinge of jealousy I felt.

His eyes filled with a gentle curiosity. “Sure, shoot,” he replied casually, giving me the space to ask.

I hesitated for a moment, taking care to choose my words carefully. “That girl you were with in the video. Did you sleep with her?”

And yes, I felt ridiculous, okay, being jealous of something my fake boyfriend might or might not have done before we met—but what can I say?

Fake boyfriend or not, watching Dakota have the time of his life while an attractive blonde with ample curves bounced in his lap had stirred up a few insecurities.

If wild blondes with big boobs were his type?

He probably thought I was the most boring girl on Earth.

Not that it should matter, I told myself.

“Yeah, right!” Dakota denied it, laughing.

“My knee was killing me after I fell off that stupid bull. I went straight back to the hotel so I could munch some aspirin and put ice on that thing ASAP. Honestly, I was afraid I’d torn my ACL or something.

” He chuckled. “Sex? Nah. With the pain I was in, sex would’ve been impossible. ”

I felt a surge of relief—but I didn’t want it to show. I offered a small smile instead. “Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me. I was just curious.”

The elevator slowed to a stop, its doors smoothly opening on the penthouse floor, and we stepped out into the lavish hallway.

But as Dakota walked me to my suite, I realized a subtle unease still lingered inside me.

The stupid thing was, I believed him … yet his answer was still somehow unsatisfying.

I tried to let it go, to dismiss the nagging inside me, but it continued to gnaw at my thoughts.

“But you would’ve slept with her if you hadn’t gotten hurt, right?” I asked, hiding my true feelings beneath a playful laugh.

“I dunno. Maybe.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I barely talked to her, honestly. Why do you ask?”

I tried to casually brush it off. “No reason.”

“Wait a minute.” A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he nudged me with his elbow. “Ottavia, are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” With an embarrassed heat swirling in my cheeks, I playfully nudged him back. “Why would I be jealous of some drunk blonde with huge boobs putting her hands all over you?!”

“Wow!” He burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling and amused. “I was only kidding, but you really are jealous, aren’t you?”

I turned my nose up. “Maybe I got so into the role of the delusional girlfriend, in denial over her cheating douchebag athlete boyfriend, I caught some residual jealousy. It’s a very real occupational hazard in acting, you know.”

“Ouch! Damn, girl!” He let out a stunned laugh. “Lemme guess, you’re the type of girl that wakes up mad at her boyfriend because she has a random dream that he cheated on her, right?”

I smirked playfully. “Well, first of all, I believe dreams are messages from the subconscious, so I’m not entirely sure I’d call such a dream ‘random.’”

“Called it.” He snickered. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m a little jealous of your boyfriend, too.”

“Boyfriend?” I froze, my heart skipping a beat. “What boyfriend?”

“I dunno. You tell me.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not what your dad said,” he teased. “He said you were ‘spoken for.’”