Hot Vegas Nights (The Trifecta 1)

Damn those triplet senses.

They’re almost like spidey senses, but a million times worse. Sometimes I think they know exactly what I’m thinking.

And I swear they know Clara affected me in some way even I don’t know how.

Maybe they do.

Maybe I should ask.

Maybe I should forget about her, and focus on work.

“Sorry, dude. I can’t help it if they all want me.” I shrug and walk toward the peephole. I catch a raven-haired woman making my breath catch. It’s her.

She turns around and real disappointment flows through me at the fact it’s not Clara.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Earlier today, when I arrived home from taking Clara home, Axel and Damien started in on me, asking if I’d lost all of my charm. Something telling must have been on my face because their teasing ceased and they haven’t said anything to me about Clara for the rest of the day.

Yet, as soon as we walked into the club, I made it my mission to get all the attention from women I could, wanting to purge Clara from my mind. A redhead slipped her number into my shorts, and a blonde with her twin sister rubbed up against me, and a brunette who whispered a very interesting talent into my ear—I could have any of them. If I wanted.

One major problem.

I don’t want a single one.

I avoid my brothers and their probing stares. Rick’s complaining should make me ecstatic. Instead, it just reiterates that none of the women are going to work.

The end of the night decides to grace us with its presence and I‘m ready to get the hell out of here.

“Night, Chuck,” the three of us say.

“Hey, sexy,” a seductive voice says from behind us. Even though I have no interest, doesn’t mean I don’t turn around.

My brother’s roll their eyes going toward the car they rode in. I brought my own tonight, thinking I would need it. I see a brunette strutting toward me, her fake tits solid against her chest.

“Hey,” I say, stumbling when she launches herself into my arms, her mouth attaching to mine and sucking like she’s trying to siphon me.

I’m suffocating.

And no part of me wants this.

For the first time in my life I kind of see where Axel’s coming from when he says women treat him like a plaything. Because right now, I’m this woman’s plaything, and there’s no breaking free.

I hear a tiny gasp from behind me. A minute sound I shouldn’t be attuned to. With the talented leach still attached to me, I turn around and hope I’m not right. My eyes connect to the retreating back of a black-haired woman. A woman, I’m certain, I wouldn’t have been disappointed if I spotted her tonight at any other time but right now. Especially since that particular woman is dressed in a tiny navy-blue dress glued to her body as if it were painted on.

Fuck.

It’s Clara.

Chapter 7

Clara

What the hell am I doing?

Why did I think this was a good idea?

The image of the brunette clinging to his body as she sucks his soul out through his mouth makes bile burn in my stomach.

He was so nice to me last night, and I just wanted to see him again. Thank him. I mean really, who washes some random chick’s clothes for them, ensures they drink water, takes pain pills, and buys them breakfast after a disastrous night of drinking? And I’m pretty certain I snuggled against him all night.

This morning I wasn’t myself. The drinking. The hangover. I may have been a bit rude, and I wanted to apologize.

And then, I got an idea.

A really dumb idea.

An idea about asking Ben for his help.

But, I see now, this man can’t be my rescuer again.

I mean, he’s a male revue dancer. Women throw money, among other things, at him. Which let's face it the evidence is literally on him right now.

I feel like I'm interrupting something, and I feel like a moron.

This is so embarrassing.

His brothers implied he's a player. He owes me nothing.

This is a mistake. I‘m back to being sensible Clara. The one who doesn’t think someone she’s known for less than twenty four hours, where most of those hours were spent sleeping off way too much alcohol, would be willing to do her a favor.

I hop in my car and rush home, evading all speed limit signs and traffic signals. Ok, not really, but you catch my drift. I’m speeding away from my silliness.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice Maureen’s car isn’t home. Explaining to my stepsister where I was so late at night isn't on my list of things I want to do.

I sprint to my door and push my back against it, ensuring it’s closed. My breath comes out in a loud rush. When I get myself under control, I slip off the short dress I wore to tempt Ben into agreeing to my dumb idea, kicking it on the floor with disgust.