Pain And Pleasure 18+✓

Fifty-three

One of the most amazing things about Las Vegas is that it never sleeps. It's almost midnight; the restaurants are still busy, the clubs are blasting music, and people are still moving on and about as though the dark has turned into a day.

Golden lights bathe my eyes as I drive through the strip. The Vegas Eiffel Tower shimmers as a romantic night in Paris, followed by the fountains of Bellagio swaying in hence and forth like a flock of birds in the sky, and then the enchanting high roller wheeling from afar like an amusement park.

But my mind is still fuzzing, so many knots in my belly.

Easy, Ara. Easy.

At last, I see the Imperial Palace Hotel, arousing that nerve-wracking sensation inside me. My fingers curl around the steering, cooing my anxiety before I step out of the car. I'm more afraid of this moment than the first time I agreed to a sexual rendezvous with Adrian.

Once my car is safe with the hotel valet, I walk into the hotel. Adrian is back in his suite, according to Mario over the phone. My heart rate speeds up like the rapids on a steep slope when I hear a ping, followed by a halt. I shut my eyes, breathe deeply, and then step out.

After several doorbell rings, it finally slides open. Adrian appears before me, taking my breath away at the first glance of his stormy eyes. I inhale sharply and press my lips into a tight, thin line. It's been only two days, but it feels like an eternity since I last saw him and his oh-so-rare smile.

The same smile I'm missing so terribly now.

"Are you aware that it's late?" He glances at his watch, a deep frown on his face. "How did you get here?" Taking my attire into account, it's only natural that he asks this.

Sneakers, pajamas, and a long cardigan are what I'm wearing. Who cares if I look like I jumped out of bed and drove here like a mad woman?

"I drove my cousin's car," I whisper.

Inexplicable silence stretches between us. Is he going to invite me in or keep scolding me? I mentally glower. And then, a long breath escapes him as if I'm his most challenging equation.

"Come in," he instructs.

"I thought you'd never ask," I think out loud.

Business dinner appears to be the last activity he's done, indeed. His full black outfit looks ritzy and formal on him. Untucked shirt with a wrinkled bottom, and a few loose buttons—it's as though he was about to peel it off his body.

"I said I'd call you, Arabella. And I was going to. You didn't have to come all the way here at this hour." He doesn't seem thrilled to see me.

The last shred of confidence in me withers like a rose in a hot summer. I'm convinced he didn't want to see me anytime soon, yet here I am.

"That's precisely why I'm here, Adrian. I know you don't want to see me and—" I breathe shakily, unable to identify the type of emotion overwhelming me. "And I want to apologize for what happened in the warehouse. You told me to stay put but I just couldn't do it."

"Because you don't respond well to orders, Arabella. I've already gathered that much!" he recoils rather aggressively. Hands on his waist, he huffs a swift laugh before adding, "We're not going to dwell on that, don't worry. Fortunately, we all got out alive despite your negligence, and that's it."

"Adrian, I'm sorry. It was my brother inside that place, and you too. I don't know what happened to me, but I couldn't stand to imagine any of you getting hurt."

"You have no obligation to worry about me, Arabella! All you had to do was sit in that damn car and wait for Mario to arrive! But no, you just had to do whatever you repulsively wanted to do, which could've put you in danger. Could've put all of us in danger!" he snaps.