“Maybe you should go have a couple of shots, De Luca. You’ll be a hell of a lot more fun to be around. You’re dragging this soirée down.”

I grind my teeth in my jaw and swiftly turn and walk. I’m done with this piece of dog meat. If I stay here any longer, my fist will get a workout on his freckled face, and that’s not fair to Jones or April. I’m being the bigger person here and walking away.

Taking long strides, I approach Jones. “I’m goin’ back to the hotel.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, need to get out of here before I do something I regret.” Like smash Brett’s face until he resembles the elephant man.

“No worries, bud,” he says as he hugs me and slaps me hard on the back. I slap him back just as hard, and he growls, “I think we’ll be another hour or so at this rate. You good?”

“Yeah, fine. Live it up, bachelor boy.”

When I get back to the hotel, I’m alone. All the other boys are still partying on. Thank fuck I don’t have to put up with Brett anymore tonight. He was that close to wearing my fist. Any other time I probably would have hit him, like if I was drunk, but then he probably wouldn’t have said anything. I hate the bastard anyway. Any chance he gets to point out that I’m dirt he revels in.

I crank up the air conditioning, strip down to my boxers, and wander over to the fridge for a cold bottle of water. Fucking Vegas dries me out like no other place I’ve ever been to.

There’s a loud rattle as I pull the small fridge open. A small bottle of Grey Goose Vodka rolls onto the carpet and nudges at my feet.

Oh, fuck. Why not throw yourself at me, you wicked bitch.

I pick it up and survey the bottle. We’re inseparable. Brett’s words haunt me, and that stupid fucking cackle.

I won’t be able to give it up cold turkey and abstain forever. I know myself. I’m too weak when it comes to the booze. It’s been twenty-four days since I’ve had a drink. I’ve surprised even myself, but this is in my blood. I’m following in my father’s footsteps. He couldn’t fight it. What makes me think I’ll be able to?

Sober for the rest of my life is not likely, but what I can do is take it slow. I can have the odd drink here or there, otherwise I’ll be laughed out of fucking town for not being sociable … or a real man. Blokes drink beer, rum, whatever. It’s an Australian tradition, and doing what I do for a job, there are always plenty of celebratory drinks. We work hard and we reward ourselves, and occasionally write ourselves off. Granted, I’ve taken the latter too far on too many occasions.

I twist open the vodka bottle, and take a whiff. There’s the subtle scent of alcohol, luring me to taste it. I know how smooth it is when it rolls down my throat. I know how fast it kicks in my stomach and warms me from the inside.

Just one and then I’ll go to bed. Just one to take the edge off.

I put down the bottle and slide over a short glass. The liquid glugs into the cup as air rushes into the bottle.

I reach for my phone and dial the number … before it’s too late.

“I need you,” I choke out.

“I’ll be there in a minute. I’m about to get in the lift,” Suds says, her tone abrupt.

“Quick.”

“Rocco, grab the room key and meet me out in the hallway, okay?” Her voice is calm, yet I sense the urgency. I know what she’s doing, and it’s a smart play. Get me as far away from the problem as possible.

I put down the glass and swipe the key from next to my wallet. “I’m heading out now,” I inform her, and then hang up.

I take slow steps towards the elevators. Each step is one away from the bottle, and one towards Soph.

The lift dings, and a panting, slightly flustered Soph rushes out. She’s got a loose white sheer thingy over the top of her swimmers with a small bag dangling from her shoulder. Her hair is wild with sunglasses pinned to the top of her head, and she’s wearing thongs. I’ve never been more excited to see her in my life. It dawns on me now that I should’ve put some clothes on.

“This is quite a way to be greeted when you get out of the elevator,” she says, and gives me a quirky smile as she looks me over.

I glance down at my boxers, which are currently housing a decent-sized semi. My cock never understands that there’s a time and a place for that. Clearly, Suds has that effect on me. The only time I’ve been hard today I’ve been around her … not the hoard of bikini-clad chicks by the pool.

“As much as I’m flattered, I’m guessing this isn’t why you need me?”

That’s debatable.

I shake my head. My mouth forms a fixed line. I can’t even tell her.

She steps forward, the tips of her thongs grazing my big toes. Her arms wrap around my shoulders and she gives me one hell of a bear hug. Her hand slips into mine, and she tugs me in the direction of my room.

I tug her back. Thank fuck she’s here.

When we get to the room, I wave my hand flippantly in the direction of the fridge. The glass is sitting on top of it, with the empty bottle and lid beside it.

Soph puts down her bag makes a beeline for it, picks up the glass and bottle and takes them into the bathroom. I sit on the edge of my bed, which is closest to the bathroom.

Relief trickles into my bloodstream as the alcohol is tipped down the sink and the empty vodka bottle clangs in the bin.

“Gone,” she announces. I collapse back onto the soft mattress and scrape my hands down my face. I can’t believe I couldn’t dispose of it myself. Thank Christ I have Suds to rely on.

The strong light from the bathroom fades as Suds pushes the door to close it. “I’ll be out in a sec. I’m busting for a wee.”

And she reckons I have no filter.

“Sure.” I chuckle.

A few minutes later, Soph emerges. I haven’t moved a muscle. I’m too frightened to. She’s taken off the white top, and has taken her hair out. With the bright light behind her and that white bikini, I swear she looks like an angel. Who am I kidding? She is my angel.

“This your bed?” she asks.

“Yup.” For some reason, my voice breaks when I answer her.

“Get in,” she orders, flicking on the soft lamp beside the bed.

I don’t argue. I slip in under the crisp white covers of the queen-sized bed. She dumps her clothes and bag on the floor and squirms in beside me, our knees knocking together as she faces me.

“Thanks,” I grunt out.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispers, and places her open palm on my bare chest. My skin prickles beneath her warm touch. Before I can grab her hand to keep it there, she moves it under her chin and nuzzles into the pillow.

“If you didn’t come, I would’ve … ah, fuck it. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. After what Brett said, I thought …”

“Is Brett that red-haired arsehole?” she asks. Her eyebrows pull together and she purses her lips, causing creases to form around the outside of her mouth.

“Yeah, that sums him up, alright.”

“And he was giving you shit?”

“Called me a fucking pussy,” I grunt.

“Ha,” she says, and rolls her eyes. “Funny you should say pussy.”

“Why?”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“When you see his face tomorrow, you ask him where exactly he put his hand to be rewarded with that shiner.”

“He fuckin’ touched you?”

“And he paid the price. Not important right now. Roll over,” she says, pushing me.

“Don’t be so fuckin’ bossy.”

“You need to be told,” she says in a low voice and clashes her teeth together at my ear.

This girl …

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

ROCCO

The door slams and my eyes fly open. Shit. What time is it? The sun is filtering through the blinds, but it stills seems early.

Two bodies stumble into the room.

“One minute it’s midnight and before you know it, it’s five. Then you blink and it’s six. Bloody casinos are like a time warp,” Stone’s familiar voice says from the entry.