Or how gorgeous my captor was.
Lucas was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected as he sat back in his seat and straightened his tuxedo cuffs. Yes, he wore an actual tuxedo. Even in my new dress, which probably cost more than my monthly salary, I felt completely out of place at his side.
“I’ve decided each of our seven nights will represent one of the Deadly Sins,” he said, with a roguish smile that made my knees weak.
My breath caught as I imagined what those sins were. Wrath, envy, lust. “And tonight is…?”
His mischievous green eyes danced with amusement, as though he knew exactly which sin I was thinking about. “Tonight is gluttony. I hope you’re hungry.”
A silent sigh of relief left me. Gluttony I could handle. “Starving, actually. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
Lucas tutted. “I did tell you to order room service.”
My hands twisted in my lap. “I’ve been too worried about my friend to eat much. Do you have any leads on what happened to her?”
“Not yet, but my people are combing the hotel’s security footage now.” He looked me right in the eye with complete confidence and seriousness. “I promised you I would find her, and I will. Do not doubt that.”
I nodded slowly and looked away before I lost myself in his dark, burning gaze. Worry for Brandy still stifled me, but I tried to push it aside. There was nothing more I could do at this point, except have faith that Lucas could find her.
The limo stopped outside the Bellagio, a massive hotel that looked like some kind of fairytale castle framing the huge lake of water and gorgeous fountains. The window slid smoothly down in front of me and music floated on the night air, while the fountains moved in time to it and lights splashed across the water.
“Look at the fountains,” I said with a gasp. When I turned to Lucas, he watched me with an unreadable expression on his all-too-handsome face, and I turned quickly back to the fountains.
The car drew to a smooth stop right in front of the hotel. Other cars raced by, but I lost myself for a few moments in the spectacle and the music. I'd never seen water sway like that before. Like it was alive.
Lucas stepped out of the limo when the driver opened the door, then he turned and held his hand out for me. I scooted over as best I could in the snug dress, trying not to snag it on my gorgeous heels. They’d arrived with my dress, and I’d nearly died when I saw the red bottom of the heels—the signature style of Christian Louboutin. I didn’t know much about fashion, but Brandy did, and she’d always coveted his shoes. Maybe I could sneak these back to Vista when this was all over and give them to her.
I took Lucas’s hand as I stepped out of the limo, and his eyes raked over me with something like hunger in them. Then he slowly lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss inside my wrist. I released a breath and met his gaze in surprise. The heat from his lips traveled right through me, straight to my core, and probably scorching my panties right off. How did he know that was my spot, the one that drove me wild and stoked my desire like nowhere else?
“You look exquisite,” he said in a low voice.
“Thank you.” I smoothed the dress, my cheeks flushing. “Anyone would look nice in such an amazing dress.”
“I wasn’t talking about the dress.”
He took my arm like a true gentleman, even if the look he gave me was anything but gentlemanly. Being this close to him made my heart race, and it wasn’t only with fear. He was far too good-looking, and the power and danger he radiated both intrigued me and made me want to run away all at once.
We entered the hotel and I tried not to have wide tourist eyes as we walked down the gorgeous entryway. Everyone scrambled to make sure our path was clear, parting like waves in front of us, and more than one person gave Lucas a deferential nod. He strolled by as if he owned the place, even though this wasn’t his hotel. That swagger was something billionaires always had, I guessed. People whispered as we walked by, my ears picking up the hiss of the sound but none of the words. Their eyes followed us, and more than one woman lost interest in her date as Lucas passed in front of her. Others shot me curious or even dirty looks. I was on the arm of Vegas’s most handsome, richest bachelor, and people definitely noticed.
At Lucas’s side, I felt like the queen to his dark king. Most surprising of all—I found myself secretly enjoying the thrill of it.
We stopped in front of a restaurant called Picasso. I knew nothing about the place, except that it was one of those restaurants that listed the chef’s name under the sign, so you knew it was going to be expensive and have dishes you couldn’t pronounce. Lucas led me across the shiny floors to the hostess, who waited at the entrance like she was expecting us.
"Mr. Ifer?" She was polite, but her deferential body language said she knew exactly who he was. “It’s a pleasure to welcome you to Picasso. We have the terrace all ready for you. Right this way.”
We followed her inside the restaurant, which was completely empty other than the three of us. A bit creepy, but it allowed me to marvel at how beautiful everything was. We walked along colorful carpet under mosaic ceilings and between tables covered in white cloths, past walls decorated with unusual geometric art.
As the name of the restaurant clicked in my head, my jaw dropped open. “These paintings. Are they real Picassos?”
“They are,” Lucas said casually, as though we weren’t basically walking through an art museum.
I didn’t think anything could top seeing real Picasso paintings up close, but then we walked outside and I gasped at the view. We were directly behind the gorgeous fountains, which towered over us against the backdrop of the Vegas lights, and close enough that I could feel the spray of water in the air.
He tightened his arm around me as I watched the fountains, mesmerized by how they danced and twined to the music with the kind of grace I’d never master. The droplets were like sprites or fairies and a lump formed in my throat as I imagined what Brandy’s reaction would have been to this magical sight.
“Your box for the fountains is on your table.” The hostess indicated the white-covered table with two red chairs on either side of it. The rest of the large terrace, which likely seated many guests on a normal night, had been completely cleared out, giving us a lot of space and privacy—plus this amazing view.
Lucas held out my chair for me, and I sat as gracefully as I could, praying I could keep it together in such an exquisite place. It would be just my luck to drop my dinner or spill my drink all over this dress. The whole thing was completely overwhelming, and it was hard not to gawk as the server came over and launched into a spiel about how the restaurant featured both authentic Picasso masterpieces along with decadent food inspired by the regional cuisine of Spain and France. Oh and over 1,500 selections from the finest European vineyards—not that I drank wine, but it still sounded impressive.
The server then handed me a tiny menu, just one sheet of embossed paper with six different things on it. I scanned it and picked the item that looked the least strange, because most of it was gibberish to me. “I’ll have the lobster salad please.”
The server gave me a pitying smile and spoke with a French accent. “Oh no, you don’t need to choose anything. These are the six courses you’ll be receiving throughout the evening, personally selected by our master chef. I guarantee it’s the finest food you’ll eat in Las Vegas.”