Sinful Reunion (3 page)

She lifted her head expecting to feel like it had been split in two, but found it surprisingly devoid of much pain. Something was covering half her face. She reached up and gasped when her fingertips met velvet.
The masked man!
Hastily she removed the mask and took in her surroundings. She was in her flower-bombed bedroom, tucked into the bed wearing a cotton slip, her bra and panties still in tact beneath it. Apart from evidence of her own peaceful night’s sleep the bed was empty; there was no sign of the masked man anywhere.

She held the black velvet mask in her hand and appraised it. It was definitely his, he was definitely gone, and she had no immediate recollection of what had happened to him. Light was streaming in through the opening of the curtain-covered windows. She opened them and looked out below at the lush palm and banana trees dappled around no less than three sparkling blue pools, one which snaked around the other two like a python; a lazy river. She checked the bedside clock – it was nearly 11 in the morning – and realized she was starving.

Tossing the mask to the bed, she abandoned what little clothing she was wearing and started the shower, stepping in and washing the previous evening off of her skin. When she finished she stepped out, wrapped herself in a towel and grabbed a bottle of water, sipping generously as she headed into the common room.

Quinn was lounging on a silk couch, a towel wrapped around her as she sipped on orange juice and read from a magazine.

“Bitch you stole my outfit!” Natalie joked in her best Quinn-voice as she plopped down on a chair opposite in the room.

“Well good morning, Sunshine!”

“Hey, I don’t suppose you happened to see-“ But she quickly cut herself off when a gorgeous man wearing last night’s clothing exited Quinn’s bedroom. He didn’t look like he had escaped a hangover as successfully as they had. He walked to the front door and was gone without so much as a word.

“Nice of him to say goodbye,” Natalie rolled her eyes.

“Oh, no, we said goodbye.” Quinn smiled, a wide satisfied smile that had Natalie feeling like she’d slept in just long enough. “You were saying?”

“Uh,” she laughed. “I was wondering if you happened to see a guy leave my room this morning?” She put her forehead in her hands and shook her head, not quite believing the words had come out of her mouth.

“So you
did
come back with someone last night! Was it that hottie in the mask?”

“They were all wearing masks…”

“And they were all hotties”! Quinn winked. “But no, I didn’t. Why? He hit it and quit it?”

Natalie straightened her back and looked out the window to the neighboring hotels glittering in the sunlight. “Not really sure he
hit it
at all.”

“Oh!” Quinn frowned.

“But he changed me into my pajamas?” Natalie shrugged and laughed off how absurd it sounded. “Yeah. Okay we need to take advantage of that cabana hookup because I need a tan, some food and some more to drink.”

“And a massage,” Quinn added. “By a hot cabana boy doused in oil.”

“Okay Blanche, I’ll meet you back here in five.”

“Honestly, how can you go back to your regular life after lounging in your own private poolside cabana?”

“I’m going to Home Depot the minute our plane lands back home to start building my very own.” Natalie couldn’t deny it was easy to get lost in the luxuriousness of a pampered lifestyle. Maybe there was something to being
well kept
, as Quinn had often defined it.

They were resting on sun loungers, bowls of fresh fruits, plates of scrumptious grilled sandwiches and platters full of drinks at their disposal. A personal attendant – Scott, indeed a
hot cabana boy
– checked on them every few minutes catering to their every whim. They each reserved spa services; Quinn a hydrating facial and Natalie a simple massage. It was the life.

“Miss Potter?” Scott asked as he entered through the flaps of their banana-yellow cabana. “If you’ll follow me please I’ll escort you to your facial. Miss Harlow, Ben our masseuse is on his way now to see to you.

“Try not to fall in love with Ben,” Quinn teased Natalie as she stood, looking every inch a glamorous model in her barely-there bikini, and followed Scott out into the sunshine. Not less than a moment later a second attendant appeared, a folding massage table under his arm. He set it up next to Natalie’s lounger and instructed her to lay face down and wait for Ben.

She was lying comfortably on the table, face-down in a padded opening with her eyes closed when she heard rather than saw him come in.

“Good afternoon, Miss Harlow. My name is Ben. Are you enjoying your day so far?”

“Yes, very much. How are you?”

The man let slip a quiet chuckle, and then said, “I’m wonderful. Thank you for asking. What can I do for you, Miss Harlow?”

“Just a simple massage, please. Nothing too deep; I had a deep tissue massage a couple months ago and ended up looking like I had hickeys all over my chest,” she laughed.

She sighed when palms touched her shoulder blades, his fingers expertly working on the few knots beneath the skin with both strength and delicacy.

“That must have been interesting to explain to people. To your boyfriend?”

“Oh,” she chuckled. “Yeah, it was nothing that couldn’t be covered up with a long-sleeved shirt and some makeup. Mmm, that feels good.” She relaxed instantly beneath his expert touch.

“So what brings you to Vegas? Vacation? Celebration?”

“A little bit of both, actually. I was just promoted at work.”

“Congratulations. Vegas is the place to celebrate anything.”

“Thanks.”

The cabana entrance flapped open, startling Natalie who had started drifting into blissful sleep under Ben’s hands. She glanced up only to see expensive Italian leather shoes and navy blue suit pants.

“Ben. Treating our guest well?”

Natalie’s ears picked up at the familiarity in his voice, at the faint accent that she couldn’t quite place.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“Good. Be sure Miss Harlow gets everything she asks for.”

Natalie used her arms to crane her neck and torso up, but the man Ben called Mr. Fitzgerald was gone, the cabana flapping to a close behind him. Hastily she got up from the table and exited, following the man and leaving Ben confused behind her. She had to shield her eyes from the sky to give them time to adjust to the insta-brightness. The vicinity was bustling with swimsuit-clad guests, waitresses in emerald green bikinis making the rounds to and from sun loungers, lifeguards switching out from one post to another. And several feet away heading back towards the poolside entrance to the hotel, a man in a navy blue suit, honey brown hair coiffed neatly atop his head.

She headed back to the cabana and wrapped a sarong around her body like a dress.

“Who was that man who came in here?” she asked Ben, whom she laid eyes on for the first time.

“That was Mr. Fitzgerald. He likes to check in on special clientele or friends, which I was informed you and your friend are.”

“Someone told you Quinn and I were friends of his?”

“No.” Ben looked somewhat confused. “The Guest Hospitality Director informed us you and Miss Potter are VIP and to take care of you.”

It didn’t make any sense. They weren’t VIP's by any stretch of the imagination. Who was Mr. Fitzgerald and why did he care at all about two random girls from Los Angeles?

“Mr. Fitzgerald works here?”

The way Ben smiled had Natalie picturing a cartoonish speech bubble above his head with the thought,
‘Are you serious?’
emblazoned in it.

“No,” he chuckled. “Mr. Fitzgerald owns the hotel. You’ve never heard of James Fitzgerald?”

Natalie paced back and forth across the common living space of the hotel suite, her thoughts running a million miles a minute. She didn’t skip a beat when the front door opened and Quinn strode in, their towels and personal effects in her arms.

“He’s here.”

“Who’s here?”

“My bidder. Gentleman Twelve.”
James.

Quinn took a seat in the nearest chair, her face agog. “Mister Six Figures?”

“Ha!
Six figures.
He
owns
this hotel!”

“
No!
”

“
Yes.
” She handed over her phone, the web browser visible on screen with
‘James Fitzgerald’
in the search bar. Quinn tapped and swiped her way through the search results, her face becoming just as disbelieving as Natalie’s own.

“Real estate magnate James Fitzgerald. Owns several hotels around the globe, Eden being the newest and most notable. Listed as one of the world’s richest people.”

Natalie opened the mini bar and poured herself a shot of Patron, glossing over the price tag entirely. She downed one shot and poured another. “Keep reading.”

“There’s some vague reference to one of the royal families and a castle he inherited?”

Natalie took the second shot and poured a third. “After that.”

Quinn’s sharp intake of breath told Natalie she’d found exactly the right one.

“Married to Celine Robertson-Fitzgerald, they were college sweethearts who’ve been together ever since. They have one child, a daughter called Francine.”

Natalie’s eye shut as the third shot of Patron burned down her throat. She recalled the conversation she’d overheard all those months ago at the Golden Palm when the twelfth man thought she was asleep. He’d talked to just three people: Mark, whom she assumed was some kind of lawyer, Celine and Frankie.

“Well it isn’t every day you find out you’ve had a passionate one-night stand with a married, billionaire real estate tycoon. Could be worse! At least it wasn’t Donald Trump.”

Natalie couldn’t laugh at the humor. “He’s known since check-in that I’m here. Think about it! There’s some kind of booking error so the Director of Guest Hospitality personally places us in a
much
more expensive suite, then comps us a cabana and gets us a reservation at their three-Michelin-star restaurant? And while we’re there we just so happen to get that ridiculously expensive bottle of Dom Perignon from a ‘secret admirer’ sent to us?”

“But how do you know-“

“I saw him!”

“What? When?”

Natalie sat on the couch and stared at the empty shot glass in her hand. She was going from sober to drunk with no happy in-between thanks to the quick succession of shots, but she didn’t care. Her brain processed thoughts too quickly while sober and when drunk the outcome of those thoughts were much easier to handle.

“I was getting my massage and he just came in the cabana."

“You were face to face?”

“No. By the time I recognized his voice and got up he was already heading back into the hotel. I didn’t want to rush after him in my bathing suit so I asked Ben."

“Who is Ben?”

“The masseuse.”

Quinn shook her head as if tossing out the unnecessary information from her brain. “And that’s how you found out who he is?”

“More or less. Once Ben confirmed his name I came straight up here to Google him on my phone.
God, Quinn
,” she whined. “You should have heard the things I said to him that night after the auction. Admitting I was there for the money because of my student debt. I was saying those things to a freaking
billionaire
of all things!”

“You two had actual conversation?” She still looked bewildered. She got up and went to the mini bar, pouring herself a shot of Patron.

“Well, yeah.”

“I’ve never had full-on conversations with any of my bidders. Never much time for it.”

Natalie ignored her completely. “What the hell am I going to do?”

“You have to ask?” Quinn brought the bottle to Natalie’s shot glass and poured. “You’re going to put on the sexiest dress you brought with you and find him. It shouldn’t be too hard; sounds like the man has been following our every move anyway. Hell, you could probably call down to the front desk and invite him to your bedroom.”

Natalie set the full shot glass aside and resumed her pacing, this time in front of the windows overlooking the pool oasis.

“Are you purposely forgetting the part where he’s married with a kid?”

“Oh come on, you’re not going to berate yourself for that, are you? So you slept with a married man. You didn’t know he was married when you met him, and it wasn’t his obligation to disclose that considering he was paying you for your time.”

“Be that as it may it doesn’t change the fact that he’s married
now
-“

“And you still want to sleep with him
now
?” Quinn swiped through the phone and suddenly smiled. “Fuck, he’s hot.”

“I know,” Natalie lamented. She’d said the same thing to him that night. Then, she added as an afterthought, “You never-?”

“With him? No, I would definitely remember this face. Damn you are a lucky girl! Okay, we need to rethink our plans. First-" Quinn grabbed the shot glass from Natalie's hands and put it back on the mini bar. "Stop drinking. At the rate you're going you'll be too drunk to notice him at all."

"I hardly think..." She stopped mid-sentence as something ignited in her brain.
Too drunk to notice
. Why was that so familiar?

"Next," Quinn continued, "Take a bath. You need something to calm you down. Then take a nap - no longer than 45 minutes - and when you're all nice and refreshed I'll be back."

"Where are you going?"

Quinn smiled triumphantly. "Shopping. You're going to need something worthy of a billionaire."

"Quinn, I really don't think-"

"Natalie, my dear, this is simple." Natalie sobered at the sound of Quinn so serious and, strangely enough,
motherly
. "Do you want to see this man again?"

Natalie sighed. "He knows who I am, Quinn. If he wanted to see me he could have by now."

"Come on you can't be this naive! The suite, reservations and cabana? He kept you
here
in his hotel. Or have you not realized that we're in Vegas and we've not even left the building except to go to the pool? He
is
seeing you, Natalie!"

"I..." She couldn't argue. There was no point. He knew she was there and now she knew he was. If she left without seeing him face to face she'd regret it; and then she'd really never see him again. "No bandage dresses."