Sex and the Billionaire Crime Boss

Ch. 12: Flying

I've never been a spontaneous person. It's not my style to just jump head first into any new adventure. It probably has something to do with losing my mother at such a young age. The sense of stability that my friends had and took for granted - the feeling that they could take chances and do crazy things because they always had that security to fall back on - was never there for me.

I have known for most of my life that nothing is ever certain. That you better not depend on someone to always be there for you, because fate can snatch that person away in the blink of an eye.

My father tried for years to get me to see a therapist to deal with the aftereffects of losing my mother, but I was never able to open up, and finally, he let me stop going. And I'm fine now.

Except I'm not. I know my need to control every aspect of my life, to carefully plan, has made me a safe but boring person. Moving to Miami is my bold step to take a chance and do something new and exciting. And to confront head-on the ghosts of my past.

And now I'm about to take off to Las Vegas for the weekend and spend it with a man who may or may not be some kind of a gangster criminal mastermind. Out of my element, for sure.

While I've been trying to convince myself that Max is just a very successful businessman, my doubts have been growing. I mean, isn't Las Vegas controlled by the mob? Bugsy Siegel. Meyer Lansky. The Las Vegas mob glorified by movies like Goodfellas and Casino Royale.

My dad, for some reason, is a big fan of these movies and the lore. And every made for TV adaption since. I grew up on them.

Am I flying off to Vegas to to have sex with a younger, single, and way sexier but equally dangerous version of Tony Soprano?

There's a quiet knock at my door just as I finish packing my overnight bag, carefully folding and placing the glittery gold cocktail dress inside along with my toiletries, lingerie and some casual clothes, then add the little black dress that was my go-to for formal events in Philly. I'm thankful again for that shopping spree Martina dragged into, although I'm not even sure what one wears in Las Vegas. Then I remind myself that for all I know, I'll be spending the whole time in Max's uber-fancy hotel suite, wearing nothing at all.

I carry my purse and my bag over to the door and open it.

"You're ready," Gabe says, as if that surprises him.

"Obsessive punctuality is one of my character flaws," I tell him, and he laughs.

Gabe takes the overnight bag, although I could certainly carry it myself. But I appreciate his old world chivalry, especially the way he intervened for me at the club when Dylan didn't seem to understand the word no.

"I never thanked you for making sure that creep at the club didn't bother me again after Max stopped in," I tell him.

"Once he realized who Max was, I don't think you had to worry about him going anywhere near you."

Maybe not that night, but I suddenly wonder what Max's reaction will be when I tell him Dylan is about to join the law firm. Or maybe I shouldn't tell him at all. I'm thinking about the gun I found in Max's closet. He wouldn't actually threaten Dylan, though. Would he?

"Well," I say to Gabe, "I felt better knowing you had your eye on him the rest of the night."

He smiles. "Just part of the job." And I'm not sure if he means his job as security in general, or more personal services he performs for Max.

"You also made sure Martina got home safely," I add. "That was over the top."

He just smiles again and holds the door open for me to what I at first assume is an Uber Black, and slides in behind me. The driver nods to us then pulls smoothly away form the curb, and now I'm thinking this might just be another employee of Max's.