VEGASPETE🔞+HER CRUEL BODYGUARD

Chepter 17

PETE POV

I practically rushed past he door on my way downstairs. I didn't want to be caught, and I couldn't bear the thought of overhearing them getting it on. I wasn't sure why the thought of hearing them was too much for me when I'd already seen Vegas bang Mr. Win and Mrs. Clark. Maybe because I felt like we'd been getting closer over the last few weeks, especially today.

I took a taxi to Notre Dame and paid cash, in case Vegas was tracking my credit card. I recognized Maurice at once. He leaned against the stone wall at the bank of the Seine. He was dressed in dark chinos and a white T-shirt, and held a bottle of wine in his hand.

I smiled and greeted him with the usual number of three kisses. The "Faire la bise" how the French called it.

"You look beautiful," Maurice said.

"Thanks."

He glanced behind me with an ironic smile. "Where's your bodyguard?"

"Busy with a lonely, married French man."

He laughed. "He'll be busy for a while then, huh?"

I laughed too because it would have been weird if I'd acted annoyed. To my ears, it sounded horribly fake but Maurice didn't seem to notice.

"I'll keep you busy," he said with a slow smile, lifting the bottle with Viognier, one of my favorite wines.

"I'm counting on it."

VEGAS POV

I knocked at Veronique's door. When he opened it, he made a badly played surprised face, closing a bathrobe over he very naked body. It was a lovely body, one few men would say no to, but it left me annoyingly cold.

"Oh, I didn't expect you so soon. I took a shower."

"Should I come back later?" I asked, even if I knew the answer.

he grabbed my upper arm with a dismissive laugh. "Oh no. Don't be ridiculous."

I stepped into the corridor of he apartment. It was smaller than the one I shared with Pete but still not cheap. He husband probably earned good money on that oil rig while his lonely husband sought the company of men like me.

"Come in," he said, leading me toward the kitchen. "Maybe you can take a look at my table as well? It's wobbly."

I nodded and got down on my haunches to inspect the table. Veronique positioned herself right beside me, he bathrobe slowly becoming loose and revealing long legs and the hint of a shaved hole.

I peered up at he face. It spoke a clear language. he wanted a night full of hot sex, and he knew I was a man who could provide it.

Problem was, my head wasn't down here. I couldn't stop thinking about Pete, about the conversation we'd shared, and about the way my pulse picked up whenever he flirted with me. Pete too wanted me for the fun I could provide. I'd never minded being the fling-kind-of-guy but with Pete, the idea simply didn't sit well with me.

Veronique touched my shoulder. "Vegas?"

I glanced at he hole once more. I could spend the night banging a lonely, horny man, or I could return upstairs. For what?

I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore. Pete. Definitely. That was the damn problem.

I shoved to my feet. "The table is fine. Let me check the window now." I strode toward the window, which was jammed but I couldn't see how I could fix it.

"Do you want a glass of wine?"

I shook my head. "I should go."

Not waiting for a reply, I left the apartment and hurried up the stairs. Pete had become my cockblock.