Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Zena

My heart leaped into my throat as Mitch took a menacing step toward Nolan. Without thinking for a second, I shuffled to my left, placing myself between them like a human shield.

"Stop right there!" I said with my hand in the air and my voice firm. "Don't even think about coming closer."

Mitch glanced down at me, unhinged, almost maniacal. "Seriously? You want to protect this pretty boy?"

"Aw, Mitch, I'm flattered you still think I'm pretty after I rejected your advances on the bathroom floor at Island Prime," Nolan said. "And just a friendly reminder, Mr. Dalton said if you touch me, you're off the team."

His eyes, dark with anger, bore into Nolan's. "Maybe it would be worth it. Don't test me."

I shook my head. "Enough with the threats, Mitch."

"Why are you here in Vegas, Zena?" he asked. "In my hotel."

I bit back a laugh. "Your hotel? Last I checked, you didn't own the place. We're here to support the team on the road. You remember what fans are, right?"

"And you happen to be on the same floor as me, with the room right next to mine?" Mitch asked.

I sighed, trying to keep my cool. "You know the team always has a block of rooms on the same floor at check-in. Cooper and Lipovsky didn't make the trip because of their injuries, hence there were two rooms not being used. Dad gave us one of them. We did not get to pick the location. It's not rocket science, Mitch."

"You're a distraction," he spat.

Nolan stepped forward, his shoulder brushing mine. "Mitch, you're the distraction. You're preventing us from having a good time here in Vegas. Can we go now?"

Mitch's face contorted. "I don't like your mouth."

Nolan smirked. "As long as Zena likes it, and she really does, more than you know, that's all that matters."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, but kept my expression neutral.

Mitch's left eye started twitching—he was about to lose it.

"Zena," he said. "Can I talk to you privately?"

I stood my ground. "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Nolan."

"Fine," he snapped. "Dump this loser."

I raised an eyebrow, a plan forming in my mind. "And if I dump him, will you wine and dine me at the fanciest restaurants? Take me jewelry shopping? Give me whatever I want? Diamonds. I want lots of diamonds."

Hope flickered in Mitch's eyes. "Absolutely. We can go right now. There's a Tiffany's at the Bellagio. Buy the entire store. Pretty boy can't give you any of that."

I shook my head, disgust rising in my throat. "You still don't get me at all. I don't want any of that." I held up my bare hands. "Do you see jewelry on my fingers? No. There's a reason for that."

"Why would you ask for it if you don't want it?" Mitch said.

The look of confusion on his face would have been comical if the situation weren't so annoying.

"Well, you say you don't want the sparkly bling, but you won't complain when I stick that rock on your ring finger," Nolan said.

Okay, I was not expecting that from him.

I was never one of those girls who had dreamed about their wedding day since they were five years old. I wasn't even into fairy tales where the prince rescues the princess and owns her forever. Still, I found myself picturing a wedding with Nolan, intimate yet elegant, just close friends and family. I could almost feel the soft lace of a vintage-inspired gown against my skin.

And the first dance …

Oh, how I loved first dances at weddings. The way the newlyweds looked into each other's eyes, lost in their own world as they swayed to the music.

"What are you talking about?" Mitch asked, snapping me back to reality.

I blinked, the daydream dissolving as quickly as it had formed. What was I doing? This was supposed to be a fake relationship, not a path to the altar.

Nolan shrugged. "Well, I wanted it to be a surprise, but Vegas is known for quickie weddings." He shrugged and winked at me. "You never know."

Mitch scoffed, his face twisting in disbelief. "I don't buy it. You two couldn't have been together that long."

"Why would you say that?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Because you only have six pictures together on Instagram," Mitch blurted out, then immediately looked like he regretted his words.

I smirked. "Aww, that's so sweet. You're stalking me online now? I don't know if I should be touched or get a restraining order. And the reason we don't have many pictures together is that I was keeping our relationship private until I knew he was a man of substance." I looked up at Nolan, hoping my eyes conveyed genuine affection. "Now I know."

Mitch's gaze darted between us, confusion and frustration warring on his face. "No way. I still don't buy it."

"It doesn't matter if you buy it," Nolan said with a grin, adding, "Some of life's best moments aren't meant for public consumption. But hey, keep refreshing Zena's profile. I'm sure it's a great use of your time."

The look on Mitch's face was priceless, a mixture of embarrassment and blue-flame rage. Before he could retort, Nolan grabbed my hand.

"And on that note—we'll see you at the game tonight!" he said, leading me down the hallway toward the elevator. "Because right now, we've got memories to make!"

Mitch's hotel room door slammed shut as we stepped into the elevator. Nolan pushed the button for the lobby, his hand still gripping mine even though we were completely alone.

I glanced down at our intertwined fingers, expecting him to let go. I was mistaken. His grip remained steady, not even a hint of wanting to let go as the floors passed us by.

39, 38, 37, 36, 35 …

I don't know why I was so obsessed with it, because truth be told, I didn't mind one bit. In fact, the warmth of his palm against mine sent a pleasant tingle up my arm. I wasn't sure if he had forgotten we were holding hands or if he was enjoying it as much as I was.

"What?" Nolan asked, catching me staring at our hands again.

I glanced up, hoping there was no visual evidence of my embarrassment. "Nothing. I was going to say that was good acting with Mitch."

He winked. "Who says I'm acting?"

It wasn't the first time he had said that. Okay, I didn't know if he was playing with me, but before I could process that comment further, the elevator doors opened to the lobby. Nolan led me to the exit, his stride purposeful.

"Do you actually know where we're going?" I asked, half-jogging to keep up with his longer legs.

He gave me that mischievous smile that was becoming all too familiar. "Like I told Mitch, we're going to make memories. Now that we know for sure he's all over your Instagram, it's time to really give him something to look at. Let's turn up the heat." He paused, glancing at my mouth. "Did you bring any lip gloss with you?"

Okay, that was an odd question.

"Yes," I replied. "Why?"

Nolan's eyes lingered on my lips a moment longer. "Because you're definitely going to be needing it."

I fought back a smile as we stepped out into the hot Vegas sun, ready and looking forward to whatever came next.

Our first stop was the Bellagio Conservatory & Botanical Gardens, a breathtaking oasis of flowers inside the hotel. As we entered, we were enveloped by a symphony of colors and fragrances that transformed the conservatory into a whimsical wonderland. Towering sunflowers reached toward the glass ceiling, their golden petals seeming to glow in the midday light. To our right, a massive floral elephant stood majestically, its entire body meticulously crafted from thousands of vibrant blooms.

In the center of it all stood a charming wooden bridge arching over a stream lined with water lilies. Nolan led me there with determination.

"Up you go," he said, his hands encircling my waist as he lifted me onto the bridge's railing.

I let out a surprised laugh, steadying myself with a hand on his shoulder. "Nolan! What are you doing? We're going to get in trouble."

But he was already pulling out his phone. "Trust me, this is going to be perfect and it will only take a second. Pretend like you like me."

That won't be difficult to do.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and moved closer until we were cheek to cheek. "Is this convincing enough for you?"

"Not quite," Nolan said, holding his camera in the air in front of us and kissing me on the lips. "There. Much better."

I wholeheartedly agree.

From there, we made our way to the High Roller we saw from our hotel room. As we ascended in the giant observation wheel, the Vegas skyline sprawled before us, a shimmering mirage of glass and steel rising defiantly from the desert floor. At the peak, Nolan pulled out his phone again. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer.

"This one's for you, Mitch!" he said, capturing the moment our lips met.

I rummaged through my purse for lip gloss as the High Roller returned us to solid ground. "At this rate, I'm going to need to buy stock in a cosmetics company." I reapplied a fresh coat on my lips. "Who knew fake dating could be so high-maintenance?"

We shared a laugh as we walked down the strip to The Venetian, the cool air a welcome respite from the Vegas heat. As we approached the Grand Canal, I felt a flutter of anticipation in my stomach, not being able to deny the genuine excitement bubbling up inside me.

We settled into a gondola, and I marveled at the surreal beauty surrounding us. The gentle lapping of water against the boat, the ornate bridges arching overhead, and the impossibly blue "sky" painted on the ceiling created an atmosphere of romance that was hard to resist.

"Get ready," Nolan said, his voice low and playful. "Pucker up."

As he pulled me close, I felt my heart race one more time. His lips met mine just as our gondolier serenaded us, and for a moment, the world fell away. It was another soft, warm kiss that was far too convincing. When we parted, I found myself slightly breathless.

Nolan's eyes met mine, a question lurking in their depths. I looked away, afraid of what he might see in my expression. Because I was enjoying this far more than I should have. The easy banter, the thrill of our adventures, how Nolan's hand felt in mine—it all felt dangerously real. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had this much fun. A small voice in the back of my mind whispered that maybe, not all of this was an act. And for once, I didn't immediately push that thought away.

As we stepped out of the Venetian, the oppressive heat hit us like a wall again. A digital thermometer on a nearby casino flashed 110°F, seeming to mock us with its cheery neon display.

"Okay, that's it," I groaned, fanning myself dramatically. "I'm hot and I'm hungry, something you never want to mess with."

"Message received." Nolan wiped the sweat from his brow. "All this fake relationshipping is hard work. Are you still in the mood for a buffet?"

"As long as it has industrial-strength air conditioning," I said. "I feel like I'm in a toaster oven."

"I know the perfect place," Nolan said. "I've heard it's the closest thing to food heaven in Vegas."

"You've convinced me," I said, already flagging down a taxi.

The cool air of the Cosmopolitan Hotel and Casino hugged us like a dream as we entered, and the Wicked Spoon lived up to its reputation, a sprawling paradise of culinary delights spread before us.

"Oh, my goodness," I breathed, taking in the array of food stations. "I've died and gone to buffet heaven."

Nolan grinned. "Race you to the prime rib."

"You're on, Zamboni boy," I smirked, grabbing a plate.

We approached the buffet stations with the determination of seasoned Vegas food enthusiasts. Nolan handpicked a generous slice of herb-crusted prime rib, its juices glistening under the warm lights. He couldn't resist a small portion of seared sea scallops nestled on a bed of creamy risotto, then he added a colorful medley of roasted vegetables drizzled with balsamic glaze, and two warm pieces of bread with butter. Finally, Nolan topped off his plate with an assortment of cheeses.

"Appetizers," he said with a wink.

My plate wasn't any less ambitious. I loaded up on succulent Alaskan king crab legs, crispy orange chicken, and vegetable dumplings. I couldn't pass up the made-to-order pasta station as well, where I watched the chef toss together a small portion of fettuccine Alfredo with sun-dried tomatoes and grilled chicken.

As we set our plates down at our table, Nolan eyed my selections with approval. "Looks like we've got quite the feast ahead of us."

"Pace yourself, champ," I teased. "There is no rush."

We both knew this was round one. The gelato bar and those mini desserts in individual serving vessels were waiting for us, promising a sweet end to our gastronomic adventure.

As we dug into the food, Nolan's eyes lit up. "Hey, I've got an idea." He pulled out his phone. "Let's give Mitch something really juicy to look at." Before I could respond, he was holding up a piece of prime rib to my mouth. "Open up."

I rolled my eyes but played along, opening my mouth as he fed the prime rib to me. He captured the moment with a photo as I moaned.

"My turn," I said, spearing a piece of orange chicken with my fork and holding it up to him.

Nolan leaned in to take the bite as he snapped another photo. We continued this back and forth, feeding each other bites and capturing each moment, our laughter drawing curious glances from nearby diners. After we'd had enough selfies, he sent me all the photos he had taken with his phone.

"These actually turned out pretty cute," I mused, especially liking the one of us kissing in the gondola. "You're quite the photographer, pretty boy," I added in a flirtatious tone.

"Thanks, pretty girl." Nolan leaned over, a thoughtful expression on his face as he eyed my Instagram posting. "I wonder what Mitch will do when he sees these."

"Hopefully, score ten goals," I joked.

"Let's not get greedy," Nolan said. "Six goals is plenty."

After we finished eating and could not take another bite, we sat there in a food coma, neither one of us having the urge to move. That was when I spotted a couple coming in our direction with their food, both wearing Sea Lions jerseys. It was such an unexpected sight since we were over three hundred miles from home.

"Go, Sea Lions!" I called out as I leaned back in my chair.

"Thanks," the woman said with a muted smile, settling at the table next to ours with her husband.

"I'm surprised to see Sea Lions' fans in Vegas," Nolan said. "You're the first ones we've seen since we got here this morning."

The wife shook her head. "Oh, we're not locals. We drove in from San Diego for tonight's game." She motioned to her husband. "Jeff is in the Navy and is being deployed in a couple of days. I thought tickets to the game would be the perfect send-off for him since he's a big-time Mitch Redding fan and won't get a chance to see him play for at least a year. Maybe more."

"What a great idea," I said. "You must be so excited to see the game."

The husband frowned. "Actually, we can't go."

"What? Why not?" Nolan asked, his forehead creased.

The woman explained their predicament, the sold-out game, the exorbitant resale prices because Mitch Redding was playing, and their dashed hopes of seeing him play before the deployment.

"We had planned on buying tickets from scalpers, but we found out the tickets are going for at least five times face value," she said. "That is way over our budget, even for the nose-bleed seats in the upper level."

"We'll probably end up watching the game over at the Circa Casino," the husband shrugged with a smile that seemed forced, trying to sound upbeat. "It's supposed to be one of the best places to watch sports in the world, three levels, and monitors everywhere you look. Better than watching at home, or in our hotel room, I guess."

"I'm so sorry," I said, feeling my heart sink.

"Me too," Nolan echoed. He glanced at me with a strange expression I couldn't get a good read on. "Hey, I have an idea." He gestured off to the side. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

Curiosity piqued, I nodded, grabbed my purse, and followed him a few steps away. "What's going on?"

"Our tickets to the game," he said, his tone urgent. "You have them with you, right?"

The realization hit me like a splash of cold water. "Wait, you want to give them our tickets? I don't understand. How will we get into the game?"

"We don't need to go," Nolan said simply.

I stared at him, utterly confused. "What about our plan? The whole reason we're here is to go to the game and make sure Mitch sees us together."

Nolan's hands found mine, his touch grounding me. "It sounds crazy, but hear me out. I came up with an idea when the guy mentioned his hotel room and it will be much more effective than our original plan. You're going to love it and it will be fun. Do you trust me?"

I hesitated, searching for the earnestness in his face, and despite the craziness of the situation, I nodded. "Yes, I trust you."

Nolan's face lit up. "Great. Thank you."

With a deep breath, I reached into my purse and pulled out the tickets, handing them to him. We returned to the table, where the couple was watching us curiously. Without a word, Nolan placed the tickets in front of the man.

He froze, and his eyes got wide. "Wait, what is going on here?"

A warm smile spreading across Nolan's face. "Take them. They're yours."

The man picked up the tickets with trembling hands and stared at them, then slowly handed them to his wife as his mouth continued to hang open.

"Center ice, front row, against the glass?" She blinked rapidly, continuing to analyze the tickets. "This is insane. We saw similar seats online, and they were like two thousand each! How did you even get these?"

I jumped in before Nolan could respond. "We know some people. It really doesn't matter, does it? They're not fake or stolen. Please, enjoy them."

We watched their expressions morph from confusion to disbelief to overwhelming joy. Their reactions, the wife's gasp, the husband's stunned silence, the tears that sprang to their eyes, it hit me harder than I expected it to.

They both jumped to their feet and began a flurry of bone-crushing hugs and more thank-yous than I could count.

"You're very welcome," Nolan said, shaking the man's hand. "And thank you for your service."

We walked away in silence, my heart full of gratitude. I was struck by the warmth I saw there. My chest tightened with a sudden rush of admiration and affection. His hand brushed against mine, and without thinking, I grasped it, halting our progress before we went back outside to the blistering heat.

"Nolan," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?" He turned, his eyes questioning.

"What you did …" I started, struggling to find the right words. "It wasn't only generous. It was beautiful." I felt a lump forming in my throat, surprised by the intensity of my reaction. "You didn't hesitate for a second to give up our tickets, our plans, everything. For strangers."

Nolan's eyes softened. "I do what I can when I have the opportunity."

I saw a flicker of vulnerability there that made my heart skip.

"You've got a heart of gold," I said, squeezing his hand.

He smiled humbly, but didn't respond.

"I guess we need to get back to the hotel." I bit my lip, curious. "Are you sure this new plan of yours with Mitch is going to work?"

Nolan smirked. "I guess there's only one way to find out."