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Brendan pinched a frown. “Way to boost my confidence, you tool.”
His laughter trickled off. “Was it while you drag-raced the Tesla? Maybe that’s what I need to do. I’d sure like to have a woman as hot as Gigi tell me something like?—”
“Careful,” he ground out.
“Oh, come on. I’ll never get near Gigi?—”
“Genevieve.”
“Whatever. My type is lower maintenance. That woman you fancy walks around the office like she’s capable of breaking hearts.” Quill hesitated. “Honestly, bro, I’m a bit worried about that with you. I mean, what are the chances she’s going to want a forever-type thing? You’re not…”
“I’m not what?” Brendan ground his teeth together so fiercely he almost broke a tooth. He did not want to be told that he had no chance. “Finish the sentence.”
Quill sighed. “You’re not the lighthearted type. The people in your circle are like family to you—you’ll do anything for them. I’m yet to be convinced Genevieve’s not using you. I’d guess, at this point, she’d be willing to throw anyone into the hornet’s nest. I still think this is a problem for the police. There are other women out there. You just need to go on more dates.”
Brendan’s stomach dropped, his body tensing at the thought of giving up on her. “I’ve got to see this through. You don’t understand how she makes me feel, Quill. There’s a spark inside me when I’m around her. You yourself said, ‘When have you ever been cocky?’ Genevieve’s the reason. She lights me up when no one else can.”
“If she can, someone else can. You’re a numbers guy—think through the math. What are the odds Genevieve’s the only woman on this planet that revs your engine? It’s finite math, my man.”
Brendan shook his head. “Finite math doesn’t apply with emotions. Falling in love can’t be quantified. Maybe she’s the only one for me. Watch any romance movie?—”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. You’re not going to convince me with that BS argument, but you’ve somehow convinced yourself.” Quill eased out a breath. “You want to let the chips fall where they may—I’ve got your back.”
“That’s more like it. I was beginning to think you didn’t have the balls.”
Quill belted out another laugh. “I can outdrive you any day.” After a pause, he added, “Maybe this woman is a good fit for you—if you want a busted jaw.”
Brendan let loose a laugh of his own. Ribbing with Quill was the perfect way to ease him back to reality. “Where do I find this Manning Cole guy?”
“The Golden Star. It’s a couple of blocks down the street from The Outlaw. That’s where Cole’s personal penthouse is, so if I were you, I’d book a room there. We’ll be close to The Outlaw; it’s good protection—Cole won’t let Marshal take a step in his place—and you can hopefully set up a meeting with him.”
Brendan tightened his grip on the wheel as he passed by The Outlaw before spotting the copper-yellow sign for The Golden Star. “Don’t know where I’d be without you, Quill.” He meant that statement in more ways than their current debacle—he meant it over the ten-plus years of their friendship.
“Thanks, Brendan, that means a lot to me. Ditto, by the way. I’ll be on my way soon.“
“Bring the cavalry.”
“Will do. Later, man.”
Brendan tipped the valet to park his car, not wanting to waste a minute. He powered up to The Golden Star’s VIP front desk with courage. He could do this. He would do this—for Genevieve, and he wouldn’t allow himself to lose his new-found cocky confidence.
“A two-bedroom suite, please,” Brendan decided on the spot. Quill might as well stay with him so they could brainstorm. “I need to add Quill Webber to the reservation.”
A middle-aged man in a hotel uniform—Devon, it seemed, according to his nametag—gazed at him long and hard with narrow-eyed scrutiny. “Do you have a reservation, sir?”
“No.”
“I’m afraid we’re fully booked for the night.”
“What about a penthouse suite?”
Devon pursed his lips, tapping away at his keyboard. “We do have a villa available, but the asking price for one of those rooms is just under five thousand dollars a night. It’s a VIP room with four bedrooms and a private pool.”
“Fine.” Brendan slid his platinum card and driver’s license across the counter. “That’ll work.”
The appraising clerk’s forehead crinkled. Wow, you take off a Brioni suit, and suddenly, the world views you as a nobody. How sad was that? It made him want to dress down more often rather than less.
“How many nights?” Devon clipped out.
