Page 12 of Just My Luck

I crumpled up the note and tossed it in the trash as I walked into my own room to shower and change.

The hot water did nothing to wash away the sudden spike of nerves building under my skin. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling off the mirrors, the digital clock on the nightstand read seven-thirty.

I sat at the vanity as I took my time applying a classic smoky eye look and added a bold, deep crimson lip—a stark contrast to the soft, natural look I wore around the office.

Finally, I slipped into the gold dress. The silk felt like liquid fire as it slid down my body, hugging my hips and falling perfectly against the curve of my back. I put on a pair of strappy gold heels that, thankfully, I had brought with me. I let my dark hair fall down my back in loose, voluminous waves. Then I took one last look in the mirror.

I looked like a woman going to war, or a woman looking for trouble. Tonight, I was doing both.

Grabbing my clutch and the heavy black VIP card Kit had sent, I opened my bedroom door and stepped back out into the shared sitting room.

Jax was already there.

He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the glittering neon lights of the Strip with a tumbler of scotch in his hand. He’d traded the casual flannel for a sharp, midnight-black suit and a dark charcoal dress shirt, worn open at the collar without a tie. It was an edgier, modern look that suited his broad frame perfectly. He looked impossibly handsome, dangerous, and entirely out of reach.

The click of my heels against the marble floor made him turn around.

Once again, upon seeing me, Jax froze. The tumbler paused halfway to his mouth. His blue eyes instantly caught the gold of my dress, darkening until they looked almost entirely black under the dim suite lighting. His gaze swept down the neck line, lingered heavily on the slit at my thigh, and then slowly traveled back up to my face. The muscle in his jaw clenched so hard I could see it leap.

“Well?” I asked, keeping my voice steady even though my heart was hammering against my ribs. “Does it fit the VIP dress code?”

Jax swallowed and set his drink down on the side table with a sharp clink. He walked over to me, stopping just a foot away. The scent of his woodsy cologne hit me, warm and intoxicating, entirely erasing the floral perfume I always wore.

“Nova,” he said, his voice a low, rough growl that vibrated directly against my collarbone. “There is no way in hell I’m letting you walk into Kit Sterling’s private lounge looking like that without me standing right next to you all night.”

An electric thrill shot straight through my spine at the sheer intensity in his voice. I couldn’t speak. Instead, I just offered him a slow smile as I slipped my arm through his. If he wanted to stand next to me all night, he was more than welcome. The way he looked now, I knew there’d be women trying to get his attention.

How many girlfriends had he had over the years? Too many. Then again, I’d had my fair share of boyfriends, trying to get Jax out of my system.

Ten minutes later, we stepped out of the private elevator at Prime and entered a hidden sub-level of the resort that wasn’t on any public map. When Jax handed the heavy, matte-black Onyx card to the two security guards flanking a set of double iron doors, they pulled the doors back in unison.

Stepping into the lounge felt like stepping back in time to a golden era of high-stakes luxury, modernized with an edge. The room was bathed in a low, amber glow, illuminated by crystal chandeliers that looked like frozen explosions of glass. The walls were lined with dark plush velvet and polished mahogany panels, reflecting the flickering light of an oversized marble fireplace.

As soon as our feet hit the thick crimson carpet, a server in a tailored vest and a cropped skirt approached us holding a silver platter. Resting on it were two crystal coupes filled with a smoking, violet-tinted cocktail.

“Compliments of Mr. Sterling,” the server assured them.

“What is it?” Jax asked.

“A custom lavender-infused champagne martini,” she answered with a smile.

“Thank you,” I said, taking one of the glasses. The liquid was crisp, sweet, and carried a subtle, aromatic bite that went straight to my head.

Jax took the second glass, his eyes scanning the room with a sharp, protective sweep. The lounge was already buzzing with a very specific, ultra-exclusive crowd. These weren’t regular Vegas tourists; these were international billionaires, high-rolling tech executives, and European models draped in diamonds. The room smelled of expensive tobacco, aged leather, and the distinct, heavy perfume of pure wealth.

In the center of the lounge, an opulent ice sculpture carved into the shape of the new Onyx logo rose out of a massive food table. It was a visual feast. Arrays of fresh bluefin tuna sashimi, tiers of colossal shrimp cocktail, and mounds of beluga caviar served on mother-of-pearl spoons were laid out under soft spotlights. Wagyu beef sliders topped with shaved black truffles sat on heated silver platters next to artisanal cheeses that were no doubt imported from regions I couldn’t even pronounce.

“Well,” Jax murmured, his mouth brushing close to my ear as he leaned down to be heard over the smooth, low-tempo jazz trio playing in the corner. “Sterling certainly knows how to throw a party for his ego.”

“It’s not an ego trip, Jax. It’s a display of dominance,” I whispered back, taking a slow sip of my drink as I looked around the room. “And right now, I bet we are the only regional agency in the room. We need to find⁠—”

“There you are, Nova.” A smooth, unmistakably cultured voice cut through the ambient chatter.

I turned, my heart doing a sudden, violent flip at the excitement at the possibilities. Kit Sterling was stepping out from a small group of what looked like a row of models, a half-empty glass of amber liquor in his hand. He had traded his boardroom suit for a sleek, unbuttoned black silk dress shirt and tailored trousers, much like Jax’s own, and looked effortlessly lethal.

His eyes locked onto me, skipping entirely past the line of women waiting for his attention. When his gaze registered the liquid-gold dress I was wearing, his steps slowed just a fraction. A slow, incredibly dangerous smile spread across his handsome face as his head bowed slightly in silent appreciation.

“You look…” Kit murmured, stopping a mere foot away and letting his dark eyes trace the line of the dress before meeting my gaze. Then he reached out, took my hand, lifted it to his lips, and finished his thought. “Absolutely breathtaking.”