Waking up in Vegas. Romy Sommer

dizzyingly in love with someone, to give in to the passion.

      She’d believed she was in love with life. But a sneaky feeling had started to creep up on her today, perhaps even since last night, that she hadn’t really been alive until she’d met Max. She’d done crazy things before, tried every adrenaline rush she could find, and loved the thrill of being on the very edge of terror, yet somehow simply being with someone who warmed her from the inside out, was a whole different kind of rush.

      It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been in lust before. This was … different.

      Max stood behind her, one arm wrapped loosely around her waist, and she couldn’t tear herself out of his embrace. She leaned against the railing, watching the water catch the setting sunlight in a million rainbows. She sighed. It felt too damned nice to be held.

      Clearly it had felt pretty nice yesterday too for her to have done the unthinkable and married Max. What had possessed her? If only she could remember…

      “What are you thinking?” he whispered in her ear.

      “I wish I could bottle and sell moments like these. Soon it’ll be dark, and the magic will be gone.” She shivered. Nothing ever lasted. Nothing stayed the same. Change was the only constant. Relocation, death, amnesia.

      The only way to cope when the things you loved were gone was to not let yourself feel. And with Max, she was very much in danger of letting herself feel.

      She shook herself. “Let’s get going. I don’t want to miss the show.”

      She wasn’t surprised to find their seats were the best in the house. Max did nothing by halves, it seemed. Since her first job in Vegas had been scalping tickets, she had a pretty good idea how much they’d set him back. Most people booked months in advance, and he’d made one phone call and got the very best.

      If there was one thing she’d learned about Max today, it was that his wealth hadn’t come as a recent windfall. He had that casual attitude towards money that marked him as born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth.

      Clearly there was a lot of money in wine. The kind of serious money that could easily buy a ticket to Europe and a couple of months’ worth of beer and pizza.

      But at what price to her soul? She couldn’t do that to him. Being shackled in marriage was bad enough. Being used was a step too far. She wouldn’t do that to anyone, and especially not to Max, who had an honourable streak a mile wide, even if he had some very old-fashioned ideas.

      After the show, they wandered through the Bellagio’s very own indoor botanical garden, and then sampled cocktails on a poolside deck, in one of those private cabanas that Phoenix had only ever seen in brochures. She stuck to rum-based cocktails. They were way safer than champagne.

      Max quizzed her on where she lived and laughed at her behind-the-scenes stories from rock concerts she’d attended. He wasn’t like the famous or rich people she’d met, and she’d met more than a few in the nomadic life she’d shared with her father. Rock stars, record producers, even an A-list actor or two when they’d lived in LA. And she’d been spectacularly unimpressed by them all.

      Max was different. He wore his wealth like a comfortable skin. There was no bling about him, just a certain expectation that he would always have the best. She’d love to see him in her drab little apartment in the far from fashionable suburbs. She couldn’t even imagine it.

      He carried himself with that air of assurance that he could have anything he wanted. And tonight he made it very clear he wanted her. The fact that for five whole minutes she allowed herself to contemplate giving him exactly that was a measure of how good he was at getting exactly what he wanted.

      They strolled down Fremont Street, wandering among the pushing crowds beneath the neon signs, bombarded by voices, the heavy thump of music and the scent of fast foods.

      Max held her hand and it felt like a life-line. Since her father’s death she’d felt adrift, rootless but somehow in Max’s company, laughing with him, talking with him, she felt anchored and safe.

      It was very tempting to give in. What could it hurt? Just one more night. She’d already done the worst anyone could possibly do on a first date by marrying the man. Surely one night couldn’t do any more damage?

      So when they magically found themselves outside the Mandarin Oriental all the reasons she’d kept him at bay through the day seemed very hard to remember.

      She pulled her hand out of Max’s and faced him. It was definitely easier to think without his touch accelerating her heartbeat and muddying her thinking.

      “I should get home,” she said. It was a half-hearted attempt. She forced herself to sound more certain. “And I need a good night’s sleep before I go to work tomorrow… because I know for a fact Khara didn’t volunteer to take that shift too.” The daytime tips weren’t as good as the night shift, and Khara was working to put herself through college.

      Max slid his hands down her arms, from shoulder to elbow, and she shivered in spite of the intense June heat.

      “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

      No, she wasn’t sure. She was far more used to giving in to her impulses than denying them. But look at the mess she’d made already - she was married to a man she barely knew. Hell, she was married. That was enough.

      “I’m on the day shift tomorrow, so I get off at six. We could meet then if you want. I’ll need to collect my clothes from you, and we should talk about filing papers.”

      His eyes narrowed, but his voice stayed level. “As you wish.”

      He dropped his hands from her arms, and it was as though a chill breeze suddenly swept between them. He summoned one of the hovering cabs.

      “This has been a truly magical day,” she said. “Thank you.”

      “It doesn’t have to end, Phoenix.”

      “Of course it does. There’s no such thing as magic. Today has been like a dream, but every dream ends when we wake up.”

      “I’m not a dream. I’m real, and I’m not going anywhere.”

      She shook her head. “You and I don’t live in the same world. We don’t even breathe the same air. You live up there,” she waved at the soaring heights of the luxury hotel towering above them, “and I live in a motel with very thin walls.”

      “It doesn’t have to be that way. I want us to try to give this marriage a shot.”

      The thought of giving up her motel room for his hotel suite was very tempting. But she shook her head. “I serve drinks to the people in your world for a living, Max. I’m invisible to most of them. You actually saw me, and for that I’m very grateful. But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t belong in your world.”

      She stepped into the cab and shut the door firmly in his face. It took all her effort not to look back as the cab pulled out into the traffic.