Page 91 of Saving Starlet

He zips his jeans up and hops out of the dumpster. “Let’s go have a drink with that pretty girl.”

“Hold on,” I say. “She’s not your typical woman. Her father is a national treasure, which makes her high profile.”

“I don’t care about that. I just want to fuck her.”

“Roman…”

“What?”

“There’s three hundred people inside that bar. Pick another woman.”

“Can’t do it, brother.”

I give up. Let him make a fool of himself. Might be the hard lesson he needs to keep his fly zipped for longer than ten minutes. We return to our table where I find a waiter opening up a bottle of extremely expensive Champagne. “Where’d that come from?” I ask Starlet as I take my seat.

She points at the bar. Lucky smiles and waves at us.

“Should I be worried?” my wife asks.

“No. Never.” I drape my arm across her shoulders. “That’s Roman’s crush, Lucky de Vezin.”

Starlet’s brows arch with curiosity. “Lucius’ wife?”

“No, his daughter.”

Starlet gazes at Roman and kicks him under the table. “Great taste, Roman. You don’t have a chance with that girl.”

He frowns and slams a shot of Jack Daniels. “Funny thing—your husband told me the same thing. Guess I’m going to have to prove you both wrong.” He slides out of the booth and heads for the bar where Lucky is sitting.

I watch as they talk for a few minutes, and then much to my surprise, he takes her hands and leads her onto the crowded dance floor.

“Roman dances?” Starlet asks.

“He does now,” I say, knowing that tonight is just the first taste of whatever trouble follows Lucky de Vezin around. Roman is hooked. And as I take a second look at them holding each other close on the dance floor, I can’t blame him for trying to win the girl.

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