Keeping the emotion from my voice and sitting tall, I reply, “Thank you, Vincent. It’s good to see you, too. I’ll help Eve while I’m here.”

I turn to Slade, as if to say, Did we do well?

He smiles.

“Vincent has this way of pressuring people,” Eve explains, opening her palms to the ceiling.

“Why not? Pressure can be good. Come on, Lauren, stay longer.” He pulls Eve closer to his side. “I bet we can get you to extend.” He kisses the top of her head with so much gentleness.

Seeing them together … it’s almost too intimate to watch.

“I’m not so sure. Jonathan only gave me two weeks, and, you know, I’ve got things to do at home.” I stare at my nails, doing my best not to notice Slade’s tatted-up, muscled forearms.

“Everything you need, you can find here. Trust me.” Vincent’s voice is so commanding that I can do nothing other than look up. His eyes are so serious and knowing that it makes my stomach churn.

I need to divert this conversation. “So, Slade, do you also ride a motorcycle?” My voice is higher-pitched than usual.

He nods. “Sure do.”

“Oh shit.” Vincent sighs, eyes shifting to the front door. “Stalker incoming.”

We all turn at the same time to see a girl strutting into the bar with low-slung jeans and a silvery crop top. She looks like she’s in her twenties with that young and carefree attitude and pierced belly button. While she might not look like she stepped out of Vogue, she’s hot in that trashy, stripper sort of way. She makes eye contact with our table, her long, pin-straight black hair swaying and eyes blinking blue. Her beauty is startling.

“Hey, baby.” She places a hand on Slade’s huge shoulder and rubs up and down.

The touch is intimate, and my eyes widen. He turns to stare at their point of contact before bringing his gaze back to her. She immediately steps off, as if chastened. The man is scary when he chooses to be.

“Sienna.” His voice is curt.

Turning her head to the other side of the table, she smirks. “Hello, Mr. Borignone.” Her glossy mouth smiles.

She isn’t trying to seduce Vincent, but with the way her eyes move between him and Slade, it’s clear she’s aiming to make Slade jealous.

“How are the tables going?” Vincent asks politely.

“You know me. I make sure the house always wins.” Opening her purse, she takes out a stick of blue gum and places it in her mouth.

Vincent nods sternly, and I inwardly steam. Eve looks barely affected—so obviously confident in her relationship.

It’s easy to forget that, while Vincent looks rough, he’s actually an Ivy League–educated man who built and runs one of the most successful casino and hotel operations in the country. Sure, he did a stint in federal prison. But then again, so did Martha Stewart.

“Come have a drink with me, Slade.” Sienna twirls the bottom of her hair. “We didn’t get to talk after we shared that cigarette on Sunday.”