Chapter 9: What Happens in Vegas: Chapter 8

“No.”

“No?”

I slid the proposal across my desk. “That’s what I said.”

She pushed it back toward me. “You didn’t even read it.”

“I don’t have to.”

Her jaw ticced and I could tell she was on the verge of losing it. “What do you mean you don’t have to? How do you even know you won’t like it?”

Leaning my elbows on the desk, I rested my chin on my folded hands. “A costume party? That’s the best you can come up with? That might be cute in Waukegan, but not in Vegas.”

As I expected, she clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes. It was entertaining watching her try to hold it together when I knew she really wanted to tell me to fuck off. “It’s not… a costume party.” Each word came out distinctly, as if saying them offended her. “It’s a masquerade ball.”

“Same thing,” I said dismissively.

She gritted her teeth. “It’s not the same thing. A costume party is childish…”

“Exactly my point,” I interrupted.

“A masquerade ball is classy and sophisticated. It’s a good theme. A New Orleans inspired event that’s fun and for a good cause.”

“What’s the cause?”

“If you would have looked at the proposal for more than two seconds, you’d know.”

That was true, but I rather enjoyed seeing her get worked up. I rolled my hand, indicating she should get on with it. “What’s the cause?”

Gia sighed. “Domestic abuse. There are so many women who are physically and mentally abused with no way out of the bad situation they’ve found themselves in. They live in fear, hiding it from their friends and family. They hide behind a mask, hence the tagline for the event, Unmask Domestic Abuse.”

I threw her a bone. An itty-bitty chicken bone, not a fat, juicy T-bone. “I agree. It’s a good cause.”

Her shoulders relaxed and the lines in her forehead smoothed out.

“But I’m still not approving it.”

And just like that, every muscle in her body constricted again. “Why the…” She took a deep breath, reining in her temper. “Why not?”

Something about seeing her get fired up turned me the fuck on and I couldn’t resist pushing her buttons. “Because it’s a costume party. We don’t do costume parties at Mystique. If it fails, that doesn’t only fall on you. It falls on me.”

“And if it’s a success, it falls on you too. It’s fancy masks. Ornate and classy, with satin, beads, and feathers. Not freaking clown masks. You hired me to coordinate events. Let me do my job and quit being a closed-minded, narcissistic, pompous—”

I raised an eyebrow at her. She kept tiptoeing on the line, and it wouldn’t be long before she tumbled over it.

“Read the proposal, Trent. You’ll see it’s more than a costume party. It’s a black-tie, sophisticated affair.” She stood and walked to the door, leaving the proposal behind.

Not many people had the guts to stand up to me. It was admirable and refreshing. I found it ironic that in a world ruled by men, it was a woman who had the biggest balls. A very beautiful and sexy woman, which is why I couldn’t let her get away with it. “The answer is still no, Miss Romano.”

With a hand propped on her hip, she refused to relent. “The answer is not no until you read the damn proposal. If you can give me a solid reason for denial, then we can talk.” She pointed a slender finger at me. “Read it!”

The door opened and Brett stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, looking like the shrewd businessman he was.

Gia’s eyes bugged out when she saw him. She swan-dived over the professional line and fell face-first into inappropriate territory. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? I am not a toy to be played with! Why would you throw this in my face?” Then she turned and poked Brett in the chest. “Don’t you even fucking look at me!”

He took a step back and held his hands up in surrender.

I’d had enough of her display of insubordination. I stood and leaned forward on my desk. “You’re dismissed, Miss Romano!”

She gasped. “I’m dismissed? You know what?” She flipped me the middle finger. “You’re dismissed!” Gia stormed from my office, slamming the door behind her.

Brett jumped from the loud bang. “Jesus Christ! What the hell did you do?”

I laughed. It started low and traveled up my chest until I was in full-blown hysteria. “That was great.”

“Great?” He stared at me like I’d lost all my marbles, and maybe I had. “That was a woman who wanted to see your balls on a platter.”

I settled myself and waved him in. “Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect. She’s sexy when she’s mad, isn’t she?”

Brett lowered himself into a chair. “That was your idea of flirting?” I nodded. “You’re a sick fuck. You know that, Dorsey? What did you do to set the redhead on fire?”

I picked up the stack of papers she left behind. “I denied her fundraiser proposal.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

I shook my head. “Not a clue. I haven’t even read it yet. I was going to deny it no matter what.”

He tapped his fingers together. “What are you doing? I know you can be a dick, but this is extreme, even for you.”

I sighed. “She’s got spunk and she’s feisty as hell. It’s been a long time since a woman challenged me. I like getting her goat.”

“Her goat? I think you got her whole damn herd. How do you plan on dating her when you make her want to stab you? You’ve got me seriously wondering about your methodology. And your mental stability.”

“It’s better this way. I need her to hate me. Better yet, I need her to quit. Hunter’s been poking around, looking for a chance to get my father to turn his back on me.”

“Your father won’t turn his back on you.”

“He might. He made it clear he’s done with my manwhore ways, and honestly, Gia is a distraction I don’t need.” I threw the pen I’d been spinning between my fingers onto the desk and blew out a ragged breath. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Seeing if you were still pissed at me.”

“I’m not a chick. You pissed me off, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to hold it against you.”

“Good, because I want to revisit my theory.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s not. I don’t need a walk down memory lane.”

“You haven’t had a single meaningful relationship since Morgan.” I cringed at the mention of her name. Brett held up a hand. “Hear me out. She was a professional.”

“She was a thief,” I spat. The memory of coming home to find my apartment and bank account emptied still stung. “And I’m ninety-nine percent sure her name wasn’t even Morgan.”

Brett leaned forward. “A professional thief. A grifter. That’s not on you. She pegged you right from the beginning, worked you over, and hung you out to dry. She got you good. Guarantee you weren’t the first guy who fell for her ruse.”

I rolled my eyes. “Jeez, that makes me feel so much better. I wasn’t the only dumbass she scammed.”

“Listen, dipshit, I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m trying to get you to let it go. Morgan was a cocktail waitress in a strip club. She had red flags all over the place. Her backstory was sketchy as hell, but all you saw was her pretty face and sexy body. Since her, you haven’t seriously dated anyone. Every time there’s an event, you’ve got a different cookie-cutter, blond bombshell hanging on your arm.”

He wasn’t wrong. Morgan was the reason I only did one-night stands. The reason I didn’t trust anyone enough to take them home. The reason I kept women at arm’s length. She destroyed my faith in the fairer sex. But I didn’t want to talk about Morgan. So, I did the only thing I could and acted like a dick. “One question. Are you the kettle or the pot?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t see you rushing to buy an engagement ring.”

“I’ve had relationships. I just haven’t found the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. In the meantime, I’ve been sampling all the beautiful women this city has to offer. Stop deflecting. We’re talking about you, not me.”

“Remind me again. Why are we talking about me?”

Brett stood and buttoned his suit coat. “Keep pretending you don’t like her. Let’s see how that works for you.”

“If she’s so great, why don’t you date her?” I wanted to pull the words back as soon as they left my lips.

He stroked his clean-shaven chin. “Maybe I will. Show her some Sin City hospitality. Perhaps I should think about settling down after all.” Brett poked a thumb over his shoulder. “Her office is down the hall, right?”

Now he was trying to get my goat and as much as I hated to admit it, the idea of Brett actually dating Gia did not sit well with me. “Don’t even think about it. Drinks later?”

He shrugged. “Why the hell not? The Rabbit Hole at seven?”

It was perfect. The distraction was exactly what I needed.