54. Matthias

54

MATTHIAS

T here was no way to avoid the stares. Yes, Las Vegas was a twenty-four-hour city and yes, it had its share of strange-looking citizens. Still, as Ciaran and I exited The West Flamingo at two in the morning, there were enough people on the street to gawk at my bloody face.

I guess it wasn't an everyday occurrence to see someone who looked like they'd just walked away from a mixed martial arts fight. The bulky, wrapped-up statue in Ciaran's arms only added to the strangeness.

"Dude," someone called out just before we entered the lobby of The Towers. "Hope the other guy looks worse."

Ciaran, who offered to carry the wrapped-up statue so that I could text Joan and Filipe, answered for me. "Much worse."

"Right on," the man praised just as we entered the revolving doors.

Ciaran, who was in front of me, rebalanced the statue vertically against his chest so he could shuffle forward.

Instantly, the warm floral scent of a thousand flowers and the gentle gurgling of water hit my senses.

Whereas The West Flamingo naturally had a flamingo statue in the center of the lobby, The Tower had a walk-through botanical garden called The Helena Silvestre Garden.

"Wow," Ciaran whispered as his head whipped from side to side. "It's beautiful here."

The garden was complete with lush trees, exotic flowers, a fountain, and an artificial soundtrack of rainforest birds. There were multiple spots perfect for selfies and group shots to make it a social media influencer's wet dream. While it was Dante's idea to install a botanical garden in honor of our mother, Helena, Dad and I were completely on board with the idea.

Earlier, when we parked the car, we'd exited the garage through another entry point. We hadn't come through the lobby.

A feeling of pride swelled in my chest as Ciaran took it all in. It wasn't the Bellagio, of course, but it was still a nice Vegas landmark.

An unusual wave of sadness hit me then. It wasn't so much that Mom was gone. I mean, yes, I missed my mom insanely. As I looked at Ciaran, as he appreciated something that was designed in memory of my mother, I desperately wished I could tell her about him.

About how he made me feel.

About his crooked smile and his sarcastic jokes and the way he challenged me to become a better person. I still wasn't sure how I'd resolve the situation with Coach Anderson, but with Ciaran at my side, I knew everything would come out all right.

Mom would have loved Ciaran.

Lost in thought, I almost ran right into Ciaran.

He'd stopped walking. We were steps away from being in full view of the front desk crew of The Tower.

In a worried voice, he asked me, "Um, do you think the security guard is going to question us? No offense, Matty, but you look like you've been hit by a truck. They'd naturally want to ensure that the owner's son is okay."

"How bad do I look?" I'd been typing out a text to Joan and Filipe but stopped mid-sentence.

He studied my face. His eyes landed on all the spots that stung. "Pretty bad."

"If we go the long way around the garden, we won't be fully visible by the front desk. And if we switch places, they'll see you first and not me."

"Okay," Ciaran said as I moved to his other side.

"And hoist the statue," I continued, "so that it covers a good portion of our faces."

Ciaran gave me a look that said, Seriously ?

"This fertility lady is heavy, Matty," Ciaran grumbled as he adjusted his hold on the statue. "I've been holding it for so long that I'm probably already pregnant. Congratulations, we're having a stone gargoyle baby."

I laughed louder than I had intended and all of a sudden I was happy.

Like, deliriously happy. My laughter mixed with the joyous bird cacophony, which echoed around the lobby.

"I love your imagination, Ciaran."

That got his attention. His cheeks turned pink. "Thank you."

Instead of typing out my message to Joan, I called her. This allowed me to cover part of my face with my hand and the phone. Plus, it would be bad manners for someone to try to get my attention while I was on the phone.

Our steps were confident as we walked across the lobby just as Joan answered the phone.

"Joan!" I boomed loudly while simultaneously offering a small wave in the direction of the night receptionist. I didn't actually look at them for the short window of time we were visible. By the time they noticed us, the tall botanical trees and the large planters of camellias would provide cover. Still, for good measure, in my faux booming voice, I added, "I need you to fax me the quarterly report again."

"That was billionaire smooth," Ciaran teased. I could literally feel his eye roll.

In my ear, Joan complained, " Forchristsake , Matty, warn me first before you scream my name like that. Is that code for, ‘Ciaran and I are being held captive, please send help'?"

We rounded the fragrant garden and entered the hallway with several bays of elevators.

"We are not being held captive, Joan," I said in a much softer tone.

Ciaran's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

The penthouse unit had its own elevator behind a keycard door.

I put the call on speakerphone as I scanned my keycard. Once inside that bay, we'd be alone, and the tension in my shoulders would fade. No one could overhear us. I wanted to crowd up to Ciaran, but with the statue in his arms, I didn't want to risk him losing his grip.

Before we could go to the penthouse, though, we needed to grab our overnight bags from the car. We desperately needed food, a shower, and a bed.

Preferably Ciaran and I would share the same bed, but it would be his decision.

"Well," Joan said in a voice that was a blend of chipper and exasperated. "If you happen to find yourself kidnapped and held for ransom, that's the voice you'd use. I am, of course, flattered to know I'm the first person you'd call."

"Again, not kidnapped."

"Then how come I don't hear Ciaran's voice?"

Ciaran chuckled as the elevator dinged open. "Hello, Joan." We stepped inside the bright elevator. "The only thing that's holding me captive is a sixty-five-pound fertility statue."

My reflection in the elevator's silvery mirror walls told me I was a scuffed-up mess. I scanned my keycard again and pressed G1 for the basement level.

"We're having gargoyle twins," I added.

"Twins?" Ciaran mouthed. There were still shadows beneath his eyes, but his blue eyes sparkled.

Joan chuckled but I could tell she had no clue what we were talking about. "I take it then that you have the statue?"

It was a quick ride to the basement. We entered the dark, cavernous space. It was cooler here and it smelled like motor oil and dusty concrete. I took stock of our surroundings. Thankfully it was empty.

Reception was getting spotty, but the connection held.

"We have it," Ciaran confirmed. "I'll need Matty to feed me after carrying it for so long. I can't feel my hands."

"Why didn't you say something?" I asked with concern. My gaze flicked to his fingers grasping the statue. Except for the bruised knuckles, the skin was bone white.

"I didn't want your manservant to whip me."

Joan erupted into a roar of laughter. "My God I love you."

"Listen, Joan," I said, still smirking at Ciaran's shit-eating grin, "we'll lose connection here quickly. Long story short, we dealt with Andy. He won't be bothering us anymore."

"Shit," she whisper-gasped, "did you kill him?"

"Regretfully, no. He's banged up."

Joan sighed disappointedly. "It's no more than what he deserved."

She really had a thirst for blood. It probably had something to do with witnessing her father getting bitten by sharks when she was a kid.

"We'll crash here for a few hours before driving back," I said. I felt Ciaran's heavy eyes on me. "How about we meet you and Filipe at the Santa Monica Pier at five?"

"Sounds perfect." Joan paused, then in the background Filipe's baritone voice piped up, "Are our boys crashing at the penthouse? All alone? With no adult supervision?"

Ciaran and I shared a glance. "Goodnight, Joan and Filipe," we said at the same time.

Ciaran smiled at me as I hung up and stored my phone in my back pocket. My stomach flipped with anticipation all of a sudden. It wasn't like I was an inexperienced newbie. But this felt different. It felt important.

Maybe it was due to our confrontation with Andy. I felt amped up, too, like the oxygen in my blood was super-charged.

All I knew was that I was excited and nervous to be wholly alone with Ciaran tonight, where no one would interrupt us.

My cocked swelled at the thought.

As I unlocked the Ferrari to collect our overnight bags, Ciaran asked, "Should we store the statue in the car?"

It was sagging in his arms and he put it down carefully.

"It's not safe to leave it in the car. I don't think Andy is in any condition to retaliate. Actually, I don't think he will retaliate at all, but that doesn't mean someone won't try to steal the Ferrari. It's unlikely but I don't want to risk it."

Ciaran saw the wisdom in this. "Joan would kill us if we lost the statue again."

"She scares me more than the embassy guards do."

"No lies detected," Ciaran said, his lips quirking into a lopsided grin. "You take the statue." He rubbed his arms back to life. "I wasn't lying about numb hands. I'll take the bags." After we traded our cargo and made our way back to the elevator, he asked, "How many bedrooms does the penthouse have?"

The question made my heart stutter as the elevator whisked us up sixty floors.

In a matter of seconds I was going to be completely alone with Ciaran.

"Five bedrooms," I said as casually as possible.

I watched his face, the way one eyebrow arched, how his lips formed a shy smile.

He must have made up his mind about something but he was remarkably silent.

It wasn't until the elevator reached the fiftieth floor that he said, "I get to pick the one we sleep in."