Page 16 of All Bets Are Off

“Huh? What?” I say pathetically, blinking manically in a pathetic attempt to appear innocent. “Oh. I think your watch came undone. Here, let me fix it.” I try to move my hand to the Rolex hanging loose on Jameson’s wrist, but his hold on me only becomes tighter.

The glare he fixes me with is kind of terrifying. “Are you trying to steal my watch, Evelyn Sinclair?”

In hindsight, giving him my full name during our boozy chats at the slot machines when I was planning to rob him later was an incredibly dumb move. Now I have no choice but to fully embrace that stupidity, so I offer up my best airhead smile as I try to yank my hand free from his grip.

“Is this some sort of role-play kink?” I ask with an airy laugh, because at this point it’s obvious I’m not snatching that Rolex, so the best I can hope for now is getting the hell out of this hotel room unscathed.

Jameson doesn’t fall for my act. He pushes me off him and growls, “I’m calling security.”

“Woah, woah!” I splutter as I stabilize on my feet and hold up both hands, palms out. “No one is stealing anything here!”

“You think I’m an idiot, do you?” he snaps, securing the open clasp of his watch and grabbing the corded phone on the desk. He dials one of the options and holds the phone to his ear.

Okay, I need to run. Like, now.

Grabbing my purse, I dash toward the door, trying to athletically dip around Jameson’s large frame. He blocks me, phone still pressed to his ear, and I yelp in panic. The situation suddenly feels horribly precarious, because I am trapped in a hotel room with a very angry man and no one even knows where I am should I end up dead in the bathtub.

I really need to start thinking my decisions through fully before I commit to them.

“I’m sorry!” I squeak, barging around Jameson a second time.

“Wait,” he orders, but no fucking way am I waiting around to let him butcher me to pieces.

I keep on pushing toward the door and it becomes a messy scramble between the two of us as I fight for my freedom and he fights to keep me from leaving. It’s all flailing limbs and shoulder barges and grunts, and as he tries to lock a hand around my wrist, he catches my bracelet. The delicate chain pulls taut, then snaps.

Jameson glances down at the broken chain on the floor, and I take advantage of his momentary lapse of focus. I tear my wrist away from him and dart the final few steps to the door, throwing it open and running for my goddamn life. It’s not easy in these heels, but adrenaline pumps hard and fast through my veins and somehow, I make it into an elevator. I frantically smash the buttons, literally all of them, and breathe a sigh of relief when the doors finally close shut.

God, I’m really making a mess of my life right now.

Not only did I cheat on my college exams, I got myself into debt, and in order to clear it, I’m resorting to larceny. My stomach is churning, and it’s not because of the elevator ride down to the hotel’s lobby. Now I have an enemy in Michael Montgomery back home in Florida, and an enemy in Jameson Park right here in Vegas.

How am I going to avoid him when we are staying in the same hotel all weekend? He knows my name. And he’s probably already got security scouring the hotel for me. My brother may end up not being the only Sinclair in handcuffs tonight. I feel sick.

I may have to camp out in the restrooms or something, and Addy will think I’m the worst sister in the world for going AWOL on her bachelorette party. When she inevitably notices—because Addy notices everything—that my bracelet is gone, she’s going to ask questions.

As I step out into the lobby and make my way back to the casino floor in a comedown haze from the adrenaline rush, I stare at my bare wrist. My heart lurches. It’s one of the only tangible memories I have left of my grandmother, and now it’s gone forever.

Vegas isn’t turning out quite like I imagined it would. Wild, sure. But definitely not fun.

10

Adelaide

According to Hailey’s itinerary, we should be checking in for our VIP bottle service at the club right about now, yet Hailey Clark is nowhere to be seen. It’s highly unusual for her to let her plans fall by the wayside, but she is handcuffed to Theo, so things are out of her control, and she’ll be hating every single minute of it.

Also, I don’t care.

I don’t care about the club, or the rest of the weekend, or anything.

Connor has shattered me.

I feel physically ill. I can’t stop replaying the moment he confronted me on a loop inside my head, and every time I reimagine him saying the words, “I know, Adelaide,” bile rises in my throat.

Melissa is having the time of her life, sipping on free drinks and enjoying her lucky winning streak in the casino, so it’s only when I eventually coax her off the slot machines that she finally notices my pale complexion.

“You don’t look good, Addy. Are you feeling okay?” she asks, a concerned crease in her brow.

“I’m just tired from the early alarm this morning,” is the lie I feed her. “And all of the booze is getting to me. I might switch to water.”