The Little Black Dress (Love in Las Vegas)

I end the call before he can respond. I know I can be difficult to work with. I don’t need his colorful narrative on the subject. But I was telling the truth. I do trust him, and I know he’ll find the perfect replacement.

Well, as perfect as the person can be, considering they’re not him.

“Fuck,” I mutter, pushing myself up and taking my plate to the sink.

I’m going to fucking miss him. He’s more than just an assistant. He’s also a friend.

Rinsing my dishes and Deuces’ now-empty bowl, I place them into the dishwasher before heading toward my bedroom to shower. The sound of my echoing footsteps taunts me once more, reminding me how alone I am in this house. Deuces appears, darting down the hall ahead of me.

I’m not totally alone.

Besides, I like my solitude. I don’t need someone invading my space, disturbing the happy peace I’ve got going here where everything is just how I like it. I don’t have to waste energy trying to make someone else happy.

And I don’t have to waste energy trying to figure out if that someone wants to be with me for me, or if they just want all the money, fame, and easily-opened doors that come with the territory of being in Jared Hart’s life.

I’ve tried to date women exclusively more than once, and each time I found their motives to be firmly encamped in the latter scenario. They wanted to date the rich, powerful Jared Hart, owner of The Black Hart, not Jared, the man who lost his father too soon and had to grow up overnight. The man who pours his entire soul into maintaining and expanding his father’s legacy.

I’m fully self-aware. I know I’m not easy to get along with, and I’m kind of a dick most days. I don’t trust very many people, but the ones I do—Scotty, Sam, my mother—have my full devotion and respect. Not many people manage to break through my walls to enter that inner circle.

And I’m fine with that. Completely and totally fine.