Page 25 of Forever Fighting
One in particular with my friend’s face on it.
He’s got to be at least ten stories high, wearing his white chef’s coat with his name stitched in bold over his heart. The image morphs to a picture of what I’m assuming is the inside of Decision, followed by a few dishes that make my stomach growl. I shake his arm and point, making him lean over me to glance out the window, our cheeks practically touching, and his scent all over me.
Wood, leather, smoke, and gasoline.
It should be off-putting, but on him, it’s anything but.
“Dude! That’s so freaking cool!”
He chuckles and turns to meet my eyes, our noses somehow brushing as he does. My breath hitches, but he doesn’t move away. His eyes are locked with mine and his smile slips. Suddenly my heart is pounding. I can’t breathe. My mind spins. And for one moment of pure insanity and nonsensical curiosity, I think about what it would feel like if I closed the inches and pressed my lips to his. Would they be as soft and supple as they look or firm and dominating as I imagine he is in every other way?
Thankfully, the moment is broken as we turn into a long, sweeping drive that leads to a side entrance of a hotel in the center of the Strip. I make a mental note to watch it with the drinking since it has to be the champagne on the flight that had me thinking that way. Because wow. I was just thinking about kissing Roman.
Clearly, I’m a mess because I should not be thinking about how my best friend kisses or what it would feel like.
Before our doors even open, staff have materialized, opening the trunk and removing our luggage. A woman greets us, all smiles, and welcomes us as she shakes Roman’s hand and then mine.
“Welcome, Mr. Fritz. We’re honored to have you staying with us.” She walks us into a small, marble lobby with crystal chandeliers and obscure glass pieces. “We have the two-bedroom villa your assistant requested. The suite is sixty-five hundred square feet and includes an in-suite workout facility, a massage room, a dry sauna, a private hair salon, a private kitchen, a formal dining room, a full bar stocked to your preferences, a dual gas fireplace, and a gorgeous private terrace and garden with a pool and whirlpool.”
I’m trying not to have my mouth hang open, but it drops another centimeter with everything she says. Holy shit. Roman takes it all in stride, and while most of the time I don’t think about the disparities in our socioeconomic situations, right now, it’s impossible not to. Where most people are simply visiting or splurging on the trip of a lifetime, Roman belongs here and eases in with cool confidence and grace.
His hand meets my lower back, and he turns to catch my expression. “You okay?” he mouths.
“This is just… a lot.”
He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. “You’ve been on vacations with my family. You’re staying in my place. You know what my grandparents’ estate and megayacht are like. And Adam might not be a Fritz, but his family has money.”
“I know.” But those things were already in place and not for me. This feels like he’s doing it for me, and that sits oddly with me.
“Don’t say no, okay? I want to spoil you. Let me have some fun with it.”
The woman catches his attention before I can respond, talking about reservations and tables at a club and all kinds of things I’m already lost to. An attendant leads us over to our villa and gives us a tour, informing us that our things will be unpacked and put away for us. This place is enormous. It’s like three times the size of my apartment and that’s not an exaggeration. Then again, it’s like half the size of Roman’s penthouse so maybe I should just chill out already.
The attendant leaves us with an “Enjoy your stay and please don’t hesitate to reach out to us for anything we can do to make it perfect.” I collapse onto a silk-embroidered sofa, my ass digging into the down cushions, and try not to choke when I watch Roman hand him a couple of hundreds.
“You tip well.”
“I appreciate their help and all they did to switch up my room at the last minute.”
I give him a look. “This is obscene.”
“Braelyn, you’ve grown up with my family. What’s up?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. This is different. Your condo is yours. This is…” I trail off, gesturing toward the overwhelming luxury surrounding us. “You guys don’t normally spend your big dollars on me and never like this.”
He walks over and drops onto the sofa beside me. “You needed to get out of Boston, and I needed to come to Las Vegas. Everything in this city is over the top.” He pauses, his brows pinching. “Is it too much? Did I go too far? I can call them and get us two regular rooms in the hotel.”
“Are you crazy? A regular room when we have this?”
He laughs.
“Seriously, though, it’s amazing, and it means everything to me. You don’t act like a billionaire and sometimes I forget just how much you’re worth. I’m not used to being Fritz-level spoiled, is all.”
He grins. “I know. I plan to enjoy it.”
“Careful. If you’re too nice to me right now, I might start crying again, and then where would we be?”
“In Vegas, in a very nice villa, with plenty of alcohol to drown your sorrows. Oh, there are chocolate-covered strawberries under that metal dome.”
