Free KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys by Frankie Love Page B

pearl earrings.”
    “You can’t wear pearls to my father’s house, anyway. He sells diamonds. And, yes, I got you three perfectly packed Louis Vuitton suitcases. A purse, too.” I point to a bag on the seat across from us.
    “Right. Diamonds and Louis Vuitton. No big deal.” Claire shrugs her shoulders aggressively, and blinks rapidly as the limo pulls out of the parking lot. Her head turns out the window as we drive away and a hand presses against the glass. It’s all rather dramatic.
    “Everything okay?” I swear to god she looks about ready to cry.
    “Yep.” Her voice has turned bizarrely high-pitched, and her head falls in her hands. She gives me a muffled, “Totally fine. Just jazzy.”
    “Jazzy?”
    “I’m nervous, Landon, okay?” She sits up and pulls her passport from her tote. “I’ve never left the country, but I’ve also never flown on a plane. And now I’m supposed to pretend I’m your fiancée and that this designer life is something I’m accustomed to. I know I can act the part once I get there—it’s just getting to the destination I’m having a hard time with.”
    “Never flown?” I know my eyes widen in surprise, and I don’t want to offend her.
    Blimey, this woman is all spun up today. I need cool, calm, and collected Claire. Not basket case, over-her-head Claire.
    “Listen,” I tell her, taking the purse out of the Louis Vuitton bag. “This is just a bag. I wouldn’t have asked you to do this if I didn’t think you were capable.”
    I watch her breathe through her nose, see her shoulders visibly relax.
    “You’re right. It’s just a purse. I just had a panic attack about leaving home for the first time and failing you. But I want this to work. I can do this.” She looks at me with those gorgeous green eyes and I watch the wheels turning in her mind. She nods, steadier, and takes my hands in hers. “We can do this.”
    “Of course we can.” I kiss her knuckles, wanting to do all sorts of things to her. Is it twisted that watching her have a meltdown turns me on? It’s like some part of me wants to protect her, make her happy.
    Which is odd and completely foreign. My one and only girlfriend in college, Winnie, was a totally disaster. We smoked and drank our way into one another’s arms, only to rip each other to shreds once we were there. I’ve never had a relationship that didn’t end in rehab. That’s not exactly a healthy track record.
    “Claire,” I say as the limo pulls up to the airport. “I’ve always thought you were this completely in control woman. But you’re actually rather vulnerable, you know that? Like, this tender little bird, ready to take flight, but scared of spreading her wings.”
    “You are so cheesy, Landon.” She takes her wallet and passport, lipstick, and a Kindle, and fills the brown leather Louis bag.
    “But I’m right, aren’t I?” The driver opens the door and Claire steps out. I follow her, the blue skies above a good omen for our long day of travel.
    “No one has ever called me vulnerable, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says, licking her lips.
    The driver sets our pile of luggage on the curb and a bellhop lifts it on a cart. I pull a carry-on bag from the pile and sling it over my shoulder, clasping her hand in mine before walking through the sliding glass airport doors.
    “I’m not asking what you are, Claire. I’m telling you. It’s time you learned to soar.”

Chapter Eleven
    Claire
    T he thing is , Landon completely unnerves me. The moment the limo pulled up to the curb, I was rattled. I kept thinking of earlier that morning, how I kissed Sophia good-bye and how she smiled, squeezing me tight, not in the least concerned about me leaving.
    I took it to mean that Sophia didn’t really care about me, and that I was probably gone way too often at work, and that leaving now meant I was crappy mother.
    My mom said it meant my daughter was happy and well-adjusted and that I should be grateful to have such a