Lust (Vegas Nights 2)

I needed it. I needed it for me.

Technically, Adrian was right. I didn’t need a job if everything went well with Damien. He’d been trying to give me money for years, so I knew he’d do everything he could so that I could access the bank account that held my money.

But that was a slim chance. I had no idea how this meeting with him would go.

All I knew with any kind of certainty was that it was time to change my life—completely and wholeheartedly.

“Hey,” Dahlia’s soft voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I turned around to see her. She smiled. “How’d it go?”

“Well. I think.” My lips twitched nervously. “Probably a walk in the park compared to what’s next.”

Slowly, she nodded, coming in and taking the seat Abby just vacated. “He’s at home, waiting for you. Honestly, when I left this morning, I thought he was going to throw up.”

“He’s nervous?”

“Nervous? If he’s been pacing the floor the entire time, it’s going to need to be re-stained.”

“That makes me feel marginally better.”

Sympathy clouded her eyes. “I have no idea what either of you are feeling right now, but I wish I could take it away from you.”

I swallowed, looking away. “I just…I’m so scared I’m going to go there and he’s going to change his mind.”

“Never. He will never change his mind. He wants this more than you know.”

Taking a deep breath was hard. My lungs were tight and my chest ached, but whether was with fear or for all the years we’d been apart, I didn’t know.

“Okay. I need his address and then I’m going to get this over with.”

Dahlia smiled and grabbed a sticky note. She printed his address out in block capitals. “He told me this morning you’d find it easy. It’s only a few minutes from the house you all grew up in.”

I took the light-pink note from her and surveyed the address. She was right—it was. I knew

“’Kay. Thanks. I’ll probably throw up a few times on the way, but still…”

Dahlia laughed. “You’ll be fine. Grab a bottle of water from the bar and take a deep breath. I promise you, you’re worried about nothing.”

We’d see.

***

My hands trembled as I approached Damien’s driveway. I couldn’t even take it in—it took everything I had to focus on the road and driving safely. It was a miracle I was holding onto the steering wheel still. The sweat that beaded on my palms made the leather wrap slippery, and I was constantly repositioning my hands.

My stomach was the worst. I’d taken three sips of water before realizing that anymore wouldn’t stay down. I was sure everyone was right and that I was worrying about nothing, but that didn’t change the fact that I was about to see my brother for the first time in eight years.

No matter the circumstances, that would always be terrifying.

I turned onto the driveway with a desert-dry mouth. Swallowing, licking my lips—nothing worked. My throat was scratchy and I wanted to cough, but when I tried, nothing happened.

Gravel crunched beneath my tires when I rolled to a stop.

For a moment, I just sat there. I sipped the water to wet my mouth and lips, then held it. It was still cold, and it was soothing against my palms.

I stared at the house. Huge and impersonal looking, it was so still that the only sign anyone was here was the sleek car parked a few feet away from me.

He knew I was here.

He had to know, didn’t he?

Was he as worried as I was?

This was it. I had to get up and get out of this car and put my past to bed. I could only do that now, today, with my brother.

I opened the car door, undid my belt, and turned. My heels rattled as I put my feet on the drive, and I almost forgot to grab my purse. I grabbed it at the last minute, holding it close to me, in front of my body like a guard.

The car beeped, lights flashing, when I locked it.

I was going to throw up. Right here, right now, all over his driveway. I was sure of it. There was no way the nauseous feeling hitting me hard could result in anything but that.

Steps.

One at a time.

I fidgeted with my purse, head down, making sure I didn’t fall on the steps.

Wobbly legs.

I wasn’t going to throw up—I was going to pass out. Of course I was.

The door opened before I’d even put two feet down on the very top step.

I looked up.

Right at my brother.

He hadn’t changed a bit. That was the first thought that flickered through my mind. He was older, sure. But his eyes were the same, dark brown that mine were. He still wore his hair in the same style, slicked back from his face and short at the sides. His scar still marred the otherwise perfect skin of his face. Even the stubble that covered his jaw was the same, carefully trimmed shadow it’d been all those years ago.