Alexander
“What a coincidence,” Abigail smiled, sliding onto the stool beside mine. The bartender appeared instantly – some things never change.
I took another sip of my scotch. “Small world.”
“Are you staying here?” She leaned forward, giving me an unnecessary view down her dress.
“Yeah.” I kept my eyes firmly on my drink, remembering how Madison had looked spread out on my bed upstairs. “You?”
“Just checked in an hour ago.” Her perfectly manicured nail traced the rim of her martini glass. “Are you here alone?” 1
“No, Ms. Harper’s with me.” I swirled the scotch in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light.
“Your assistant?” Abigail’s lips curved into a smile. “Which room number did you get?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Oh, just curious.” She shrugged, taking a delicate sip of her martini. “Making conversation.”
“5013.”
Her eyes widened. “My goodness, I’m right across from you! 5019.” She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Must be fate or something, don’t you think?”
“Must be.” I signaled the bartender for another round, more to have something to do with my hands than any real desire for more scotch.
“The universe works in mysterious ways,” she mused, stirring her olive with a perfectly manicured finger. “Remember that night in the bar? Talk about destiny…”
I suppressed an eye roll. “That was what – a year ago?”
“Thirteen months, but who’s counting?” She winked, taking another sip of her martini.
The memory of that weekend flickered through my mind – a blur of expensive wine and tangled sheets. Ancient history now.
“So,” I swirled the scotch in my glass, “did you brave Vegas solo, or is someone warming your king- size bed these days?”
Abigail’s laugh tinkled like ice in crystal. “Flying solo, darling. Though not for lack of offers.” She
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leaned closer, her perfume wafting over. “That tech mogul – what’s his name? The one with the ridiculous yacht – he’s been absolutely relentless. But you know me…” She shrugged one bare shoulder. “I prefer quality over quantity.”
“Meaning you turned down his yacht?” I couldn’t help but smirk.
“Please. It wasn’t even a proper super–yacht.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Besides, I’ve been focusing on my work. Men are…” She waved her hand dismissively. “Complicated.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“Though some complications are worth the trouble.” Her fingers brushed my arm, light as a feather.
I shifted slightly, putting an extra inch between us. “Depends on the complication.”
The bartender appeared with fresh drinks, providing a welcome interruption. Abigail’s eyes glinted as she took her martini; the way she held the glass was almost seductive. She leaned closer, her knee brushing against mine under the bar.
“You know,” she said, swirling her drink, “Vegas has a way of bringing people together. Don’t you think?”
I raised an eyebrow. “It does have a certain magic.”
Her smile widened, revealing perfectly white teeth. “I’ve missed our little rendezvous. Last year was unforgettable.” She let her fingers trail up my arm.
“Good times,” I said noncommittally, sipping my scotch.
She moved closer still, her hand resting on my thigh. “Remember how we couldn’t keep our hands off each other?” Her fingers crept higher, grazing dangerously close to my crotch.
“Abigail,” I warned softly, placing my hand over hers to stop her progress.
She laughed softly, a sultry sound. “Come on, Alexander. We’re both adults here.” She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. “And I’m just across the hall in 5019. It’s almost too convenient to ignore.”
I caught her hand before it could go any further and gently but firmly removed it from my thigh. “As tempting as that offer is,” I said with a smile, “I’m going to have to pass.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she slid her hand back up my leg and pressed against my growing hardness through my pants. “Really?” she whispered, stroking me slowly. “Because it doesn’t feel like you’re not interested.”
I caught her wrist and pulled her hand away again. “You always did know how to push buttons,” I chuckled.
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She pouted playfully. “Oh, come on, Alexander. It’s not like you to say no.”
I leaned back slightly, maintaining a casual demeanor. “True,” I admitted. “But tonight’s different.”
She tilted her head curiously. “How so?”
“For one,” I said, motioning to our drinks with a smirk, “we’ve got these fine beverages that need our attention.”
Abigail rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Drinks over sex? That’s a first for you.”
“Hey now,” I said with mock seriousness, lifting my glass in salute, “this is Macallan 25 we’re talking about.”
She laughed again, shaking her head. “Fine.” Abigail drained the last of her martini in one graceful sip. “But if you change your mind…” She winked, sliding off the barstool. “My door’s always open for you.”
“Goodnight, Abigail.” I raised my glass in a mock salute, amused by her persistence.
She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around me in a brief hug. “Sweet dreams,” she murmured, her lips brushing my cheek before she pulled away.
I watched her sashay across the lounge, turning more than a few heads in that dress. Had to hand it to her the woman knew how to make an exit.
–
Taking another sip of my scotch, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Classic Abigail, expecting things to pick up right where they left off. Sure, we’d had fun last year, but that was then. These days, my interests lay elsewhere – specifically, upstairs in my bed, probably still curled up in those silk sheets.
The bartender caught my eye, silently asking if I wanted another. I shook my head, dropping a hundred on the bar for the drinks and a generous tip.
I rode the elevator back to my floor, my mind churning over the events. The doors opened with a soft ding, and I stepped into the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the plush carpet.
Room 5019 caught my eye as I approached my suite. What were the odds? Same resort, same floor, and rooms directly across from each other. And then showing up at the bar just when I was there…
I paused at my door, key card in hand, and glanced back at Abigail’s room. The coincidences were starting to pile up like chips at a rigged poker table–first the restaurant, and now this. My gut told me there was more to this story than serendipity.
Abigail was many things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. Even back during our brief fling, she’d had a knack for “accidentally” running into me at the most convenient moments. The woman could schedule spontaneity with military precision.
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I chuckled, shaking my head. Maybe I was overthinking it. Vegas wasn’t exactly sprawling with seven -star resorts, and Abigail had always favored the finer things in life. Still…
The security camera at the end of the hallway caught my attention. It might be worth pulling the footage to see exactly when she checked in–just to satisfy my curiosity.
I shook my head, laughing at my own paranoia. Security footage? Really?
Sliding my keycard into the lock, I pushed open the door to my suite. The lights were dimmed, casting soft shadows across the luxurious space.
The bedroom door stood ajar, and I pushed it open, expecting to find Madison still curled up in those silk sheets. Instead, I found an empty bed, the sheets rumpled but cold.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
