Page 8 of Vegas Daddies (Forbidden Fantasies #17)

GAVIN

I t was the least surprising thing in the world to me.

This girl—alright, she was decidedly a woman, her once-trim body having filled out to something curvier and undeniably sensual in the years since Vegas—wanted something from me, and my bank account was practically sighing in anticipation of what her ask would be.

“Go on, then,” I drawled, hoping the edge of annoyance in my voice would come across just a touch. “Tell us your demands.”

Though her confidence had been impressive the moment before, now she seemed to falter, her expressive face falling a little.

Like she hadn’t thought far enough ahead to have decided what she wanted out of this.

That same impulsive spirit she’d shown us all in Vegas was still intact despite time and…

whatever else she’d been through that gave her a more mature, less carefree air about her.

It was usually money that people wanted.

From me, but also just in general in this world.

That was my guess in the case of Allie Tate too.

And yet here she was, struggling to think of something she could get from me, despite her having noticed my Cartier watch and Dolce loafers with a glint of awe in her eyes.

It was a risk that frequently resulted in people trying to take advantage of me, but I didn’t exactly know how to not come off rich.

I’d been born into a record label empire, had always enjoyed paying for trips I took with friends and buying lavish gifts for anyone and everyone in my life.

I especially liked to spoil the women I slept with, giving them a full boyfriend experience even as I kept my distance from them emotionally.

It had taken a lot of broken hearts along the way to get good at establishing that no matter how fun I found it to buy my bedmates flowers and jewelry and lingerie, I just wasn’t a relationship guy.

I’d mastered it by now, but the real difficulty had shown itself once that issue was cleared.

It was hard to find women who’d appreciate the princess treatment but didn’t only like me because I could give that to them.

Rich or not, I wasn’t comfortable being anyone’s sentient wallet.

There was an added layer of complication to my wealth now that I wasn’t just the heir to the Ratliff fortune but the owner of it.

Gone was all of the fun of throwing money around, replaced instead with the heavy weight of responsibility on my shoulders.

I was in charge of a whole company of people’s livelihoods, not to mention all of the artists who were signed to Ratliff Records, and that wasn’t something I took for granted. Dad hadn’t either.

“I think it might be best if you owe me a favor I can cash in later,” Allie finally mused aloud.

So she could think about it, not waste her last genie wish on something silly.

A smart move, even if she’d only made it because of her prior thoughtlessness.

“So I guess you guys will just have to stick around to find out what that favor might be.”

Was I imagining the hint of flirtation in her tone?

Either way, it was a good thing we were already staying in her town indefinitely.

Allie’s neck of the woods wasn’t too far from LA, where Cade, Luca, and I all had lived the majority of our lives, but it was a longer drive to and from the city than I wanted to make all the time, so I’d gotten us a temporary rental by the beach while we worked on our mission.

It was convenient, the proximity to this woman who wasn’t as devious as she thought—I’d always learned to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer, and I didn’t know yet which category she’d fall into, no matter how chummy we’d gotten back in Vegas.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my jacket pocket to check the screen.

It was just Henry, one of my business associates who was constantly calling with every little detail since I took over after my father died.

I decided the call could wait. I sent Henry to voicemail, and when I looked back up to Allie, I noticed her eyes were locked on the table in front of me.

A business card had fallen out of my pocket as I grabbed my phone, landing face down on the table. There was the fancy R logo for Ratliff Records on the back of it, embossed in gold. Allie’s mouth was agape as she took in the card, surprising me.

“Wait. You’re … you’re Gavin Ratliff ?”

I blinked at her. Despite my proximity to the rich and famous, I was decidedly not one of the latter. I’d never been recognized outside of industry events. “I am.”

“Of Ratliff Records,” Allie clarified slowly, pointing to the distinctive logo again. I nodded just as slowly, and she let out a surprised laugh.

“Wow. I’m sorry, I—well, I used to be pretty into the music industry.

Or I once hoped to get into it, I guess.

So I’ve heard of you,” she explained. “Outside of…well, the obvious, I guess.” She paused, then her eyes grew more serious, her lips tipping down at the corners. “I was sorry to hear about your dad.”

I didn’t expect that bombshell, nor did I expect the punch to the gut it seemed to deal upon me. All I could do to respond was give her a curt, stone-faced nod.

Allie seemed to sense that I didn’t want to linger on that subject. I was almost grateful when she spoke next, until I processed what she said.

“So…that’s my favor, then. I cooperate with this whole annulment thing, and you use your industry connections to help me get started on my music career.”

I had to stifle a groan—this might as well have been Allie asking for money.

I did let myself make eye contact with each of my friends.

Cade was as steely as ever, though one of his thick brows did quirk up a little.

Luca looked nervous as all hell, but that wasn’t much different from the moment before Allie spoke, the poor guy.

“You want me to buy you a recording contract,” I paraphrased for Allie, who immediately frowned.

“No! No, I—I want to earn it by my own merit. With my talent,” she said, throwing another curveball my way. “But I’m sure you know how to get me in the right room with the right people. You have connections. Industry parties you can drag me along to, so I can mingle and make my way on my own.”

This woman was exceeding my expectations at every turn.

I tried not to be impressed by her wanting to get famous the old-fashioned way—I’d met tons of talented people who had the same wish, of course.

But I couldn’t help but admire the savvy it took for her to come up with this idea.

Networking was everything, even more necessary than talent.

I wasn’t exactly excited about the prospect of parading around someone who may not have an ounce of musical ability to the music industry bigwigs I knew, but hey, I’d slept with this girl once and it had been damn good.

It couldn’t be too terrible to spend more time with her.

“I…think that can be arranged,” I answered Allie coolly. Her answering smile had more than a little relief in it.

There were still plenty of logistics to figure out on our journey to unmarry Allie Tate, but there didn’t seem to be much else we could talk about just yet.

After we all exchanged contact info with Allie, there was nothing else for us to do but go about our days as usual.

Or at least as usual as a day could be when you’d just met up with your accidental Vegas maybe-wife.

Since I’d driven us to Marv’s in my swanky SUV, I opted to drive us back to the beach house too.

Cade climbed into the front seat, Luca accepting his relegation to the back with grace.

Once we got on the road, I dialed Jack Bloom, the PI I’d solicited to help us with this whole marriage mess, and let his voice spread through the car on hands-free mode.

“Jack Bloom, PI,” he answered the phone gruffly—a habit that made me roll my eyes from the first time I’d called him.

“Jack, it’s Gavin Richards,” I replied, using the fake name I’d decided on with only a second of thought.

I wasn’t exactly well-versed in the ins and outs of vaguely shady businesses like he seemed to run, but I figured it was better to avoid using my real identity if I could.

Reputation and business and all that. Who would take me seriously as the young new CEO of the company if they found out I’d been drunk-wed to some girl I’d just met only a few years ago?

“Just calling to check on the progress,” I told Jack, glancing at each of my friends in turn as we pulled up to a stoplight.

“I told you, buddy,” his slightly sleazy voice rang through my car, “I’ll let you know when I’ve tracked down the marriage license, but you didn’t give me much to go on. You sure you can’t tell me which chapel you may have gone to?”

I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose, keeping both hands firmly on the wheel. I did let my frustration come through by pressing the gas a little more firmly as we got onto the highway though.

“I already told you I don’t know,” I snapped. “Anyway, I need you to dig up as much info on Allie Tate as you can. Focus on the marriage stuff, of course—but I want to know who we’re dealing with.”

“It’ll cost you extra,” Jack Bloom said, surprising me not at all.

I should’ve splurged on someone more professional, but in my frantic need to get this done quietly, I’d gone with the first shady PI I could find online.

It was clear Jack saw me, as so many people did, as a good mark for a thick paycheck.

“Fine,” I spat. “Just get it done.”

Jabbing the end call button on the vehicle’s console screen didn’t have the same satisfying impact as slamming a phone would have, but it would have to do. I swore once it was just me and my friends in the car again, and Luca spoke up.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who’s stressed out by all of this,” he said without an ounce of humor. “I know it’s usually just me.”

That was true enough. Cade added, “I just want my damn ring back.”

“We know,” Luca and I chimed in unison, and even grumpy Cade laughed at himself with us.

When we were finished laughing and almost back at our temporary home, Luca said the words Cade and I weren’t sentimental enough to say, though we all felt it: “Well, if we’re going to be in this wild mess, at least we’re in it together.”

It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.