“Because I’ve spent so long playing the field,” he says.
“Only because you were trying to get over her in the first place,” I say. I know that’s not the real reason he thinks that. I can see it on his face. I rack my brains, trying to think of anytime I’ve said something that he could have taken to mean I thought him and Kimberley were doomed. I can’t think of anything. “Come on Seb. Why do you really think that?”
“Well, the whole love and marriage thing isn’t really your thing is it?” he says.
“Not at all,” I agree. “But that doesn’t mean I think it’s not for everyone. You and Kimberley are made for each other.”
“So, why aren’t you taking this seriously then?” Sebastian demands. “I’m only ever going to have one stag party and you can’t stop working two fucking days for it?”
Maybe, he has a point. Yeah, he does. But that doesn’t excuse him cutting off one of my calls not once, but twice today. He had no idea who those calls were to, and even once he saw my client’s name on the screen on the plane, he had no idea how he would react to being essentially told to fuck off. He could have cost the firm a lot of business.
“Fine. I’ll stop,” I say.
“Good.” He grins then shakes his head. “I honestly can’t believe we’re in Vegas and I’m having to impose a no working rule. The hard part should be convincing everyone it’s over and they have to go back to work.”
“Whatever. I’ve told you I’ll stop. Now, do me a favor, and stay the hell out of my room, otherwise you’re not going to live long enough to marry Kimberley.”
“Ooh, fightin’ words.” Sebastian grins. “Bring it on, bro.” He’s dancing around the room, his fists up.
I try to stay mad at him, but I’m laughing at his antics.
“Ah see, you can smile without your face breaking,” he teases me and stops dancing around. “We’re going to have a couple in the hotel bar before we head out. Are you ready?”
Before I can answer, Matt steps into the room. “Why is Sierra downstairs in reception?” he asks me.
Fucking hell. This is just getting worse. She was meant to sneak in without either of my brothers or Bradley seeing her.
Both Matt and Sebastian are staring at me now, their eyes burning a hole into my guilty face, waiting for an explanation.
“Look, I agreed not to work for this weekend. But that doesn’t mean shit can just be left to not get done. Sierra will be taking care of a few things for me while we’re here, that’s all,” I say.
“It takes your work obsession to a whole new level when you can’t go on a stag night without bringing your assistant along.” Matt smirks.
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” Sebastian says. “Do you have any idea how much trouble I’m going to be in now?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You think Kimberley will be jealous because Sierra’s here?” I ask.
He laughs and shakes his head. “God, no. But Bernie will. She’s pretty much my best friend and I told her she couldn’t come out here with us because it’s a guy thing. She got it, but it’ll be a whole different ball game if she finds out about this.”
“It’s not like she’s here for the party,” I defend. “And besides, hen parties are always rowdier than stag parties. She’ll have a much better time with the girls.”
He shrugs. “Just make sure you tell her I had no idea about this if she finds out,” Sebastian says.
“I will. I’d better go and find Sierra and see what’s taking her so long. I just have to quickly go through what I need her to focus on and I’ll meet you two in the bar in ten.” I grab my room key, phone and wallet and leave the room, reminding them to flick the lock over when they leave. I walk away knowing they’re both staring after me.
I head down to the lobby, quietly fuming. I’m annoyed at my brothers; they don’t want to work this week, yet they don’t seem to want anyone else covering the work that needs to be done either. I’m still annoyed at Sierra too. I mean how hard is it to be in a place the size of fucking Vegas and not get seen by the few people who would recognize you?
I step out of the elevator and cross the lobby.
Sierra is just turning away from the check-in desk. She’s wearing a sensible knee length pencil skirt with a white blouse and a black jacket. If she’s too hot, she’s not showing it. Her ashy blonde hair is clipped up in a French pleat. She clacks across the lobby in her heels.
“Sierra,” I shout.
She turns to face me. Her perfect posture doesn’t falter, but she gives her nerves away by pushing her glasses up. Something she always does when she’s nervous. She comes to stand before me. “I’m so sorry Mr. Hunter,” she says. “I checked the lobby before I came in, but then there was a problem at the desk and it took longer to sort it out than I thought it would, and then Matt was there. I tried to lie to him, but he saw straight through it. Have I caused a whole lot of trouble?”
I can feel some of the anger leaving me. Sierra has been my assistant for the last two years, and this is the only mistake I can ever remember her making. If this is as bad as it gets, then we’re all good.
I shake my head. “No, I’ll handle it. Now what was the problem at reception?” I ask.
“They said they couldn’t find a room booked for me. I had to beg them to let me go up to your room and find out what was going on. They only agreed because I showed them my
