Page 19 of Rival to the Billionaire

"What?" she says. "He's got it coming. Anyway, that means I've got a suite at the Cosmopolitan where you can stop by if the conference doesn't kill you or if you need a party break.” Carmina tilts her head toward Ryder. I can't help but smile as she continues. "I've got several meetings to attend back on the other side of the world. A little Asia tour with Quentin. Sadly, I'm not sticking around."

"Really? Carmina, no… You have to." I resist the urge to glance back at Ryder again. "I need you to?—"

"You don't need me to do anything," she reassures, her chocolate-brown eyes twinkling as her customary red lips pull into a charming smile. "Remember: You're a strong, capable woman. You're a femme fatale. You're Buffy. You can slay this conference all on your own, my dear. And here's your weapon."

"What's this?" I ask, intrigued as I peer down at the hotel shopping bag in her grasp.

"Forces of nature."

I dig into the bag only to find a variety of sex toys and vibrators. I snatch my hand back, as if it were on fire.

"Uh, Carmina…"

“Jen,” she warns, pushing the bag into my hands. “Don’t fight me on this, okay? This is going to be a long, stressful week. And you're spending it with Ryder—your human poison. You're going to need something to help you relax. And what better than these?"

I glare at the bright, beautiful plastic, tempted to tell Carmina my secret. The one detail I often leave out in these types of conversations.

"You'll need a makeover, too, don't worry. It's Vegas, darling. It's all fun, no rules! And your closet is a bit too buttoned-up."

I glance down at my wool skirt suit. I look good in this…I thought.

"Does everyone hate my wardrobe?"

Carmina shrugs, handing me the bag. "It's not like your clothes don't look great on you. They do. They're just a little too…common for someone like you, Jen."

I glance at her outfit. The pillar of sexy elegance, Carmina's dressed in a form-fitting, navy dress with heels and makeup to match.

"Don't get me wrong," she continues. "I think you have some pretty killer fashion. But your body is way too hot to be dressing all in black all the time."

“Jeez. I mean, after my parents divorced, Abby and I basically grew up in a single mother household. My mom worked all the time, so I didn't get the best fashion advice." I eye my outfit with a sigh. "And hell, I don't have the kind of bust to fill out something like what you're wearing, Carmina."

She slides loose strands of my bun from my face, her eyes roving over me. "Yeah, all the more reason for a makeover," she says as she takes a step back, sizing me up. "I'll come over later to help you get ready for the Cocktail Hour. Alton and I have tickets to the event.” She peers over at the twosome to our right—the Anderson brothers, now talking in hushed tones. "Ryder's tongue will be hanging out of his mouth when I'm done with you."

"What? Oh, no, Car, it's not like that. I'm?—"

"Tired from your flight, I'd say." She grins, pointing at the shopping bag in my hands. "Now, put those to good use. We can meet back up in a couple of hours. I've got some calls to make. Just making sure Quentin doesn’t involve us in an international scandal while I’m looking the other way.”

I stare at the contents of the bag as Carmina kisses my cheek, turns and swishes away, grabbing Alton on her way to a waiting car.

I turn to Ryder.

Less than forty feet away, he hasn't bothered to take his black shades off. I steel myself against looking at him.

I shouldn't let him get under my skin. He's like a virus—a cancer.

And I'm Buffy Summers…if Buffy were a sweaty-palmed executive, sharing a room with her worst enemy.

"So…you ready?" he says, his Pacific Ocean-colored eyes dancing. "Let's crush this fucking conference, why don't we?"

I sigh, clutching the bag of vibrators closed. Following Ryder inside the swank hotel, hoping to avoid looking at him.

We end up in a crowded lobby lounge full of people, likely some of the business elite here for the conference, smirking and talking about what a "swell" view this place has.

Ryder’s already mixed in with them—making small talk.

By the time we make it to the elevator, he's already made about three new friends, secured two new business meetings, and likely made one date.

As we enter the small, enclosed car with just the two of us, I suddenly feel dizzy.

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