Impossibly (Dante’s Nine MC #1)(23)
Author: Colleen Masters

“This is it,” Declan grins, throwing an arm around my shoulders, “Home sweet home.”

I look up at his face, backlit with the neon glow of the strip. In this moment, he seems larger than life to me. Like some kind of electric savior, here to show me a new way of life. But I suppose, in many ways, that’s exactly what he is.

“Why don’t we get you settled in your new place?” he says, steering me through the jostling, drunken crowds, “You must be wiped after today.”

“I’m all right,” I tell him gamely.

“Atta girl,” he grins, stopping before an array of tall, gold-plated doors.

I glance up, startled, as a doorman in full livery steps forward to open the door for us. The man is probably in his early fifties—a red-faced, cheerful guy with kind brown eyes.

“Good evening, Mr. Tiberi,” he smiles, “Have a nice trip?”

“Sure did, Franklin,” Declan replies, clapping the man on the back, “Just had to run to California to give my new intern a ride.”

“Hi, I’m the intern,” I say, offering my hand, “Name’s Kassenia Bennett.”

“Hello, and what a beautiful name!” he doorman says, jolly and adorable, “I’m Franklin. So happy to meet you. If you ever need anything, just let me know, all right? I’m not like the other doormen, either. Won’t shake you down for a tip every time I give you the time.”

“I appreciate that, Franklin,” I smile.

“See you around, man,” Declan says, leading me inside.

A cavernous, elegant lobby opens up before us as we step inside. I gape at the gold leaf, the marble floors, the entirely impeccable space. A wall of antique elevators faces us across the way, and an honest-to-god fountain trickles on our right.

“This is where you live?” I ask, dumbstruck.

“Correction,” Declan says, “This is where we live. Welcome home, Kassie.”

I burst out into nervous laughter. It’s a bad habit of mine, laughing whenever I’m uncomfortable, or overwhelmed. Weddings, funerals, any time there’s heightened emotion, I start laughing at once. Not exactly the best way to make friends.

“What is it?” Declan asks, “What’s so funny?”

“If you…had seen…the place I was living in Berkeley,” I cackle, “You’d know why this is so…hilarious…”

“Well, Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore. Or California. Or Connecticut,” Declan grins, “You’re in Vegas, baby. You’re gonna love it.”

We step into the elevator as it arrives to whisk us away. As the doors whisper closed before us, I realize that this is the most alone Declan and I have ever been. My stomach flips over as he leans against the elevator wall with his arms crossed, biceps flexing deliciously. I’m overcome with the sudden desire to run my hands all over those strong, cut arms, that washboard stomach, those sculpted thighs…

“What’re you thinking about, Kassie?” he asks. Though by the look in his eye, I’d guess that he already knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Just trying to process all of this,” I tell him, “I’m a little out of my element, here.”

“Well, brace yourself,” he says, as the elevator dings open once more, “You haven’t even seen your new digs yet.”

We step out into a small landing. Straight ahead, a filigree mirror hangs on the wall. I catch a glimpse of Declan and I standing beside each other and stifle a gasp. I don’t know how else to say this…but we look good together. My dirty blonde hair offsets his chestnut curls, his sculpted muscles are a perfect complement to my lean figure. But once again, it’s the eyes that do me in. We both sport the same clear, precise shade of blue, intense and bright. They say that eyes are the window to the soul…so what does that say about us?

I tear my eyes away from our reflection and see that we’re standing in the space between two doorways. To my right, there’s a heavy wooden door adorned with a golden “A”; to my left, a matching gateway sporting a “B”. I look inquisitively at Declan.

“What is this, some Alice in Wonderland shit?” I ask.

“Something like that,” he laughs, “I hope you don’t mind living so near to me. I figured it would be easier for us to work closely this way. Now, if inspiration strikes, you only have to hop across the hall.”

“These are…our rooms?” I ask breathlessly.

“That’s right,” Declan says, “Room A is mine. Room B is yours. Or rather, Suite B. Calling it a room would be an understatement. I figured that I may as well snag the buildings penthouse apartments, while I was at it.”

“Penthouse…?” I echo, my head spinning.

“See for yourself,” Declan says, handing me a sleek black key card.

I take the little strip and turn to the door marked “B”. There’s a discreet key slot beneath the golden handle. My hand shakes as I dip in the card, pull on the handle, and ease the door open. There’s only darkness there before me as I step tentatively inside. I can only make myself move a single step. That is, until Declan moves past me and turns on the lights, illuminating the place I now call home.

I’m surprised my jaw doesn’t crack, hitting the floor so hard.

A spotless, high-ceilinged great room opens up all around me as I step inside. I ease myself down the marble steps, onto the ornate Persian rugs below. Before me, the wall itself seems to rise up—a cleverly disguised blackout shade hiding a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Through the crystal clear glass, the mayhem of the strip sprawls every which way.

“It’s entirely tinted, don’t worry,” Declan says, leaning against the doorframe with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops.

“Oh, worry is the last thing on my mind,” I breathe, gaping at the penthouse suite.

Elegant, priceless furniture populates the great room, organized around a huge fire place that stands against the far wall. Fine art is hung tastefully all about the room, and towering bookshelves take up much of the wall space. I have to admit, it’s all a bit less…tacky than I would have imagined Vegas to be.

“Let me guess,” Declan laughs, “You’re wondering where the bad hotel paintings and pornos are hiding?”

“How do you read my mind that like?” I ask, cheeks burning.

“I thought a place like this might make more sense for a woman like you,” he says, closing the door behind him, “I love a cheap, Hawaiian-themed hotel room as much as the next man, but this is going to be your home through the summer. I figured I’d pass on the heart-shaped Jacuzzis.”