Page 27 of After Midnight

The thought makes my chest warm.

Now there’s one last thing to do before I go to bed.

So I pick my phone up and book a Monday-morning flight back to Las Vegas. Back to the heat and the wind and the scorching desert.

Back to her.

chapter 12

Remi

IT WAS SWELTERING TODAY, THE type of Vegas weather that makes me wonder why any of us live here; the desert obviously isn’t made for us. But the air is finally starting to cool off now that the sun is setting, and I have all the windows down in my Grand Cherokee as I cruise east on Summerlin Parkway.

On my way to pick Sebastian up.

I still can’t believe he got a flight into Vegas just to go to dinner with me tonight.

The thought makes my stomach flutter and twist, like I’m not sure whether to feel flattered or freaked out. Maybe a bit of both.

I’ve been driving for about ten minutes, and I’ve already almost turned the Jeep around three separate times.

Because I feel like I’m about to break another one of my rules: Don’t engage with clients outside of the club.

But . . . is Sebastian actually a client? I met him at Caliber, so I want to say yes, but from that first moment I met his eyes from across the club, something felt different about him, and he’s just continued to prove that over and over again.

I sigh as I hit my blinker and merge left to get onto I-11. I’m only a few minutes out from Sebastian’s hotel now—the Fontainebleau. It’s one of those hotels that’s stupidly expensive but not made for partying like some of the hotels on the Strip. When Sebastian texted me to say he was staying there, I wondered if I should just not text back, disappear like a tumbleweed blowing across the desert.

That didn’t happen though. Because I can see the hotel in the distance, growing larger as my Jeep coasts down the highway.

I’m on Las Vegas Boulevard now, and the Fontainebleau towers over the road. I hang a U-turn and realize this is my last chance to drive away; I’m about fifteen seconds from taking the right-hand turn that’ll lead me to the hotel’s pickup area.

What am I doing? I think, gripping my steering wheel hard. This is so fucking stupid.

But I hit my turn signal anyway.

And as I steer to the right and follow the signs to the pickup area, I start to feel like the tight grip I have on my life is slowly starting to fray and unravel.

Because he’s already there waiting for me, and my chest squeezes when I lay eyes on him.

He’s standing in the pickup area, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, wearing a black hoodie and a backward hat. He’s casually chatting to a woman who looks to be waiting for a valet. She’s dressed in a skimpy silver dress and heels, her hair hanging in bouncy curls around her shoulders. When Sebastian says something, she laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners and one hand coming up to cover her mouth.

A sharp pulse of irritation goes through me, but I crush it immediately as I pull up to the curb.

And Sebastian looks up and meets my eyes through the windshield.

The smile that crosses his face makes his dimples show. And as soon as he sees me, he’s already moving away from the woman in the silver dress, leaving her standing at the curb as he reaches to pull open the passenger’s door on my Jeep.

My heart thumps hard as it swings open.

Then he’s poking his head through the open doorway, still smiling that dimpled smile.

“Hey,” he says. “You look like my ride.”

My lips tug up on one side. “You’d better get in before I pick someone else up.”

Still smiling, he slides into the passenger’s seat and closes the door. And as I check over my shoulder and pull through the pickup area, he doesn’t glance back once at the beautiful woman standing on the curb.

At first, it’s quiet as I navigate back out onto Las Vegas Boulevard. But I can feel Sebastian staring at me. Finally, I say, “Put your seat belt on.”