Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

I had to get out of Vegas.

That was all I was thinking about as I stood in front of Martin’s door.

I’d been summoned.

I couldn’t muster up a single feeling about being called back to the den of debauchery. The pain lodged in my chest acted as a barrier. Nothing, not even my normal distaste for Martin, was able to break through.

“Miss Levine.” George appeared with a tight smile.

Someone’s mood hadn’t improved.

Well, fuck him, my mood is shit, too.

“George,” I greeted and stepped past him.

My heels clicked on the marble floor. I saw Martin lounging on the couch with a newspaper in his hand.

An actual paper.

Funny, I didn’t think anyone actually touched those even though they were delivered daily.

“Good morning, Mr. Jackson,” I greeted.

He looked at me over the paper and frowned.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Catarina walking to the couch in a robe carrying two mugs of coffee.

My already bad mood soured. I hated what that robe implied.

“Are you okay?” Martin asked.

Like he’d care.

“Of course.”

“Did your date not go well?”

Right, my fake date with Jack.

“We broke up.”

Cat’s eyes sliced to mine. I bet she was trying to gauge if I was putting on for Martin or I was telling the truth.

“I hope me keeping you didn’t upset him.”

Again, like the asshole cared.

“No. He turned out not to be the man I thought he was.”

Even as I gave my excuse I knew it was a lie.

Wilson was exactly the man I knew him to be. I just wasn’t the woman who could weather the blast. Maybe I could’ve been had he chosen to actually speak to me instead of pouring acid over a conversation that should’ve happened calmly and rationally.

That’s very judgmental, girl.

I could hear my grandmother’s rebuff in my mind. How many times had she lectured me about giving my father agency, reminding me that it was his grief to express and it wasn’t my place to expect him to grieve the way I wanted him to.

Was Wilson still grieving the loss of his wife?

She hanged herself in our bedroom.

Of course he was still grieving.

“Atlee?”

Martin’s voice yanked me from my reverie.

“Sorry. I promise my personal issues won’t impede on my performance. Is there something I can do for you this morning?”

I wasn’t a fan of the way the man was looking at me.

It was a disgusting thought but I’d rather his gaze move over me in lust than have him studying me so closely.

“I called you because I wanted to thank you in person for all you’ve done for me.”

It was then I noticed Eden wasn’t at the table where she normally worked. There were no women in sight. No extra sounds of people moving about.

“Are you checking out?”

“Yes. Weaver went this morning and finalized the property you found.”

Weaver? Was that Dale’s last name?

I didn’t ask. I was almost free and clear and not a moment too soon.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Jackson. I’ll arrange for your luggage to be brought down when you’re ready. Will you need me to call a car for you?”

“No need. Gavin’s already cleared the villa and we have transportation arranged.”

I glanced between Cat and Martin unsure what to say. Like last night, Cat looked unconcerned and as sweet as could be.

“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Jackson. I hope you enjoyed your time in the mansion.”

“George,” Martin called, then came back to me. “You’ve made all the difference, Atlee.”

George came to stand next to me with a thick envelope in his hand.

“That’s for you,” Martin continued.

Shit.

I glanced down at the envelope George was holding out.

“That’s too much, Mr. Jackson. I can’t—”

“It could be all ones.”

His unexpected teasing tone jolted an unwanted laugh out of me.

Shit. Now I was laughing with a sex trafficking scumbag.

Yes, it was time to leave Las Vegas.

With nothing left to do, I took the envelope.

I hoped it was a stack of ones.

“Thank you, Mr. Jackson. I hope you’ll come back and visit us soon.”

Lie.

I hoped I never saw him again.

I turned to leave but Catarina stopped me.

“Atlee?”

Her voice was soft and timid.

A far cry from the real woman I knew.

I glanced over at her and she snuggled into Martin’s side.

“Some men are complicated,” she sweetly told me and Martin put his arm around her. “Maybe with your guy, you need to look a little deeper to the heart of who he truly is before you give up on him.”

“My woman speaks the truth,” Martin said. “Sometimes all it takes is the right woman and we crumble.”

Great, now I was getting relationship advice from a man who sold women for a living.

Yes, the neon was flashing.

Time to exit stage right.

And holy moly, Catarina had Martin wrapped around her finger.

“Thanks. Maybe you’re right and I acted too hastily.”

Cat gave me a small smile.

I left as quickly as my heels would take me.

I was in the staff corridor in the casino before I pulled my phone out of my bra.

I know, I know, radiation and all that jazz, but I didn’t have any pockets so my bra was my only option.

I ducked into the bathroom and dialed Jack.

He immediately answered.

“Everything okay?”

I could remember a time in my life when the person I was calling didn’t have to ask me if I was okay. I desperately wanted to go back to those days.

“I’m fine. I’m calling to let you know that Martin is checking out this afternoon. Gavin’s already cleared out the villa. Oh, and I saw Cat. She’s…fine.”

“You saw Cat?”

I leaned my hip against the sink basin and caught an unfortunate glimpse of myself in the mirror.

“Yeah,” I answered Jack as I stared at my reflection.

My focus went to Wilson’s fading mark.

“She’s in the casino?” he asked.

My hand floated up, my fingers brushed over the faint mark.

“No. Villa,” I absentmindedly said, pressing my fingers over Wilson’s brand, wishing it wasn’t quickly vanishing.

“Villa?” Jack growled. “You went up to the villa without texting me?”

His angry, clipped response made me drop my hand.

I’d had enough for one day.

Hell, I’d had enough for a lifetime.

“I’ve had a shit morning. I don’t need you barking at me.”

“I know, beautiful, but you still need to check in with me.”

“Actually, I don’t. It’s over.”

There was a beat of silence before he softly asked, “What’s over?”

“Everything. Martin’s leaving today. That’s why he called me up, to say goodbye and give me my tip. Which by the way, is an envelope stuffed full and I don’t want it. Should I turn it over to the Marshals?”

“You should keep it. But if you don’t want it you can give it to Wilson. He’ll handle it.”

That wasn’t going to happen.

“You’re not going to fight, are you?” The disappointment in Jack’s tone stabbed me in the heart.

“I need…time.”

“Time to talk yourself out of loving him?”

Yes.

No.

Maybe.

“Time to think.”

“I don’t know what he said to you but I can imagine he tried to convince you Barbara took her life because of something he did. That’s the guilt talking. She had severe depression when she was in high school. From what I read that went undiagnosed from childhood. For whatever reason she never told Wilson, her parents didn’t tell him, and she’d stopped taking meds in college. And I’ll tell you something I’ve never told Wilson—I read her psychologist’s notes. She stopped her meds against his advice. She told him she was cured.”

My heart ached for this unknown Barbara who lost her life to her illness.

“Why would he tell me it was his fault?”

“Because he’s in love with you and scared.”

Now Jack was lying to me. Wilson didn’t strike me as a man who was afraid of anything.

“What? You don’t think men get scared?” he pushed when I remained quiet. “You don’t think opening your heart to someone and being vulnerable doesn’t scare the fuck out of us like it does women? It’s been twelve years since Barb died and you’re the first woman he’s gotten close to. You put the fear of God in him. I warned you he was going to do this. Now, Atlee, are you going to let him get away with his bullshit or are you going to fight for him?”

“He…” I paused, not sure what to say.

“He’s wrecked. What he did to you is eating away at him. I know Wilson. I’m sure he went for maximum damage and doubled down to convince you he’s an asshole and you should leave him.”

“He told me he’d fail me.”

“That man will never fail you. He’ll burn the world down for you.”

He’d bankrupted a man for following me. That wasn’t exactly scorching the earth but it was a little overboard in my opinion.

My phone beeped with another call, reminding me I was at work and had other guests besides Martin to deal with.

“I can’t talk about this right now. I have another call.”

I heard Jack’s frustrated sigh.

“But we’ll talk later. Oh, I forgot. I think Dale’s last name is Weaver.”

“Okay, I’ll check into it. Be safe and text me if you’re going to the mansion,” he demanded.

How had I been saddled with two bossy-as-hell men?

“Righty ho, bodyguard,” I quipped.

“Smartass.”

I disconnected and saw I’d missed the call from the O’Neils who had just checked in.

Not a good first impression.

Damn.

I needed to push Wilson out of my head and get to work.

I pulled up my text app and shot Jack off a message.

Going to the mansion. Villa 2. O’Neils. Old money in their 70s. If you tell me they’re into kinky sex games I’m quitting and moving to Alaska.

What’s wrong with kinky sex games?

Before I could respond a second message came through.

And Alaska? I hear Idaho’s better.

I’m ignoring you.

You’re actually not. You’re thinking about moving to Idaho and fighting for your man.

Damn if he wasn’t right.

I shoved my phone back into my bra, studiously avoiding my reflection and Wilson’s mark.

After that, I went back to work.

* * *

Eight hourslater I was on my couch staring out the window, with my knees curled up to my chest, unseeing. The lights of Strat were nothing more than a blur. My body hurt—from my feet to my head.

But my heart ached.

Wilson hadn’t called.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. And I was too tired to figure out if I was happy he was giving me space or if his silence was contributing to the constant pain in my chest.

I had tomorrow off. Martin was gone, the Osborns were checking out in the morning, and the O’Neils had been sweet when they explained it was not personal but they requested Isabella who had been their host for years to take over for me. I’d take the day, stay in my jammies, and figure out my next move.

I’d also call Gram.

No. I couldn’t talk to her without explaining Wilson’s personal business. Besides, I knew what she’d tell me.

Big girl britches, Atlee. Don’t delay fixing what needs to be fixed.

Gram didn’t believe in procrastination. She believed in facing issues head-on. But Wilson wasn’t an issue; he was a man with a stockpile of guilt and grief.

Had I found my father? A man paralyzed by the past?

My hand went to my stomach to stop the butterflies.

With calling my grandmother not an option, I thought about Diana’s offer to visit. I needed to talk to someone. Luci was a straight shooter. Diana a soft touch when she wasn’t in front of the cameras. Both women were smart and logical.

I could take a week off of work and go to Montana.

Yes. That was what I needed. A week away, let the dust settle, the hurt recede, then I’d talk to Wilson.

Clear heads would prevail and we’d talk.

With a plan in place I closed my eyes.

As it turned out I should’ve called my grandmother instead of falling asleep. I should’ve heeded the advice she’d given me over the years and not procrastinated. I should’ve done a lot of things differently. But mostly I should’ve called Wilson.

But I didn’t.

And that proved to be a fatal error.