My Accidental Forever (Love You Forever Book 5) Read online

  “Just in time. I need my good-luck charm,” he says, waiting a moment before flipping over his cards. He finally does, and I see them, but my lack of gambling knowledge means I have no idea what they mean. Everyone at the table flips over their hands and the dealer says that Foster is the winner. He pushes a big pile of chips our way.

  I bounce up and down and clap and cheer. I turn and kiss Foster quickly. “Good job!”

  He laughs. “It was all because of you. You bring me good luck.”

  A waitress who’s walking around comes over and takes our drink orders. He orders a glass of scotch and I opt for a fruity mixed drink. I sit on his lap and watch as he plays a couple more hands, then we take our drinks and move over to a craps table.

  The night turns into a blur and I couldn’t tell you how we ended up spending it. All I know is that we stay in the casino, gambling and drinking. Next, we’re alone in the elevator. His mouth is on mine as he pins me against the wall. My legs are wrapped around his hips, and his hands are supporting my weight by holding on to my ass. When the door opens and the elevator dings, he doesn’t bother pulling away. Instead, he carries me down the hall to our room. He holds me against him as he pulls out the key card. He unlocks the door and walks us through. I’m not sure, but it sounds like he drops everything on the table we pass, then we collapse on the bed, and the rest of the night goes by in the blink of an eye.

  I wake the next morning when I hear a knock on the door. Foster quietly walks over to it and pulls it open. I hear soft whispers followed by the sound of a cart being rolled over the threshold. I open my eyes just in time to see him position the cart at the foot of the bed.

  He looks as sexy as ever with his clean-shaven face, bright eyes, and soft smile. He doesn’t look like he had too much to drink. It’s not fair. I’m sure I look like a member of the living dead.

  “Good morning. I thought you could probably use some breakfast.”

  I smile. “Thank you. I’d love some,” I say, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around my still-naked body. I scoot myself to the foot of the bed and he sits beside me. He hands over a champagne flute full of orange juice and I take a sip.

  “This has alcohol in it, doesn’t it?’ I ask after I swallow it down.

  He laughs. “Hair of the dog. We’re still in Vegas, aren’t we?” He pulls the lid off the platter and the smell of pancakes, sweet syrup, bacon, and eggs washes over me and makes my mouth water.

  “Mmm, that smells too good,” I say, reaching for a piece of bacon and taking a bite.

  He pushes the plate toward me then takes a bowl of cereal for himself. I feel bad that I get all of this food and all he’s ordered for himself is some cereal, so I push the small plate of toast toward him.

  “Why did you order so much for me and a bowl of cereal for you?” I ask, watching as he takes a bite of cornflakes.

  He shrugs. “I don’t like breakfast food all that much. I mean, bacon is awesome and eggs are all right, but I don’t like all that sweet stuff—pancakes, waffles, and anything else covered in syrup isn’t for me. Plus, I tend to eat light for breakfast. If I eat too much, all I want to do is go back to bed.”

  I laugh. “Maybe that’s my problem.” I take a bite of my pancakes and the sweetness is to die for. My eyes close as a soft moan escapes my lips.

  He laughs but leaves me to my food. He turns on the TV and we both watch while we eat—going at our own pace and in no hurry to leave the little world we’ve created here in our room.

  “What do you want to do today?” I ask, sipping my morning cocktail.

  “Whatever you want. We could catch a show, hang out by the pool, get some massages.”

  I laugh. “I’ve never had a spa day or a massage.”

  “Really?” he asks, his hand—and spoon—pausing on the way to his mouth.

  I laugh. “Really. They cost too much. I mean, I’ve had my nails done, but nothing more than that. Never even had a pedicure.”

  “Wow,” is his only response.

  “What? We live in Chicago. It’s usually too cold to show my toes. Plus I work with dogs—big dogs—and when they step on your little toes with their big, rough paws, it hurts!”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “Okay, it’s settled then. Today, you will go to the spa and get pampered. Then we’ll have dinner and see a show. Sound good?”

  I smile. “Sounds good to me,” I agree.

  After eating, I excuse myself to shower. The hot water feels amazing and makes my head swim. Or maybe that was the morning cocktail. That thing couldn’t have had much alcohol in it, but it’s like the little it did have just reactivated the drinks from last night. I have a pleasant buzz going that makes everything that much more relaxing. The soaps and shampoos provided by the hotel are amazing. They smell and feel like luxury cosmetics. I take more time than I need to shower, but I consider it part of my spa day. When I get out, I dry my hair, apply a little makeup, then pull on some leggings and a tank top with my flip-flops.

  “I’ve already got your whole day booked. Have fun and I’ll meet you here at 7 p.m. and we’ll go to dinner.” Foster leans in and softly kisses my lips.

  I smile around the kiss. “Yes, sir,” I agree, turning and walking out the door.

  Once in the lobby, I get escorted to the spa. I’m welcomed immediately and ushered back to my own little room. I’m given a robe and some house shoes, and the next thing I know, I have cucumbers on my eyes and something thick and sticky on my face while my hands and toes are getting done.

  I could get used to this. Well, everything but the pedicure. It kind of tickles and feels weird to have a stranger messing with my feet. It doesn’t take long before I’m completely relaxed and falling asleep. After the facial, they move on to my lips, doing some kind of moisturizing mask on them. Then I’m taken to another room where I lie down and get a full-body massage. After that, they fix my hair into some fancy updo and I don’t bother stopping them. Foster gave them their orders and if this is what he wants, then who am I to object? After my hair is done, makeup is next. Looking at myself in the mirror, it looks like I’m Cinderella getting ready for the ball.

  It’s after 6 p.m. when I’m finally allowed to leave the spa, and I head back up to the room to find Foster. When I walk into the room, it’s completely empty. There’s a garment bag lying on the bed with a note on top of it. I pick it up and read:

  * * *

  Harley,

  I hope you had a great day! It’s only going to get better from here. Put on this dress and come down at 7 p.m. There will be a limo waiting to bring you to the restaurant I’ve chosen for dinner. Don’t forget, we’re in Vegas, so have a drink and relax.

  Foster

  * * *

  I smile and shake my head as I drop the paper back on the bed. I unzip the garment bag and pull out a beautiful black dress. It’s made of the softest material imaginable, and when I pull it on, it fits perfectly. It’s sleeveless and hugs my chest, giving just a peek at my cleavage. The dress is long—flowing all the way to the floor—and there’s a shiny pair of heels to match. I slide my feet into the shoes then check my reflection. I look nothing like myself. I look like I belong at Foster’s side instead of just some chick he’s killing time with until it’s time for him to settle down with the right woman. Tonight I’m going to let myself believe that we’re together—really together.

  At 7 p.m. on the dot, I head downstairs and outside where there’s a limo waiting as promised. The driver opens the door and I slide inside. He closes the door and I remember the note, so I pour a glass of champagne and sit back, waiting to see Foster and excited for this special evening he’s planned.

  Eight

  Foster

  I’ve rented out the whole room in this restaurant. They’ve even cleared the area so our table is the only one in this private room. It’s dark—all but the table, which is lit by a candle in the center and a small chandelier hanging above it. There’s music playing softly over the speakers and a
bottle of wine chilling by the table. My chair is facing the door, so I’ll know the moment she walks in. She should be arriving any minute now.

  Almost on cue, the door gets pulled open and the dimly-lit room fills up with light. She steps into the room and it feels like the oxygen has been sucked from my lungs. I stand up and walk around the table to greet her.

  “You look beautiful,” I say, leaning in and pressing my mouth to hers.

  “What’s all of this?” she asks, sounding breathless as I pull out her chair. She sits down and I push her forward, sliding her up to the table.

  I take my seat across from her. “This is just something special I wanted to do for you. I thought you deserved to be treated like a princess for a day.”

  The waiter comes over and pours us some wine.

  “What? Why?” she asks, her cheeks burning.

  I shrug. “I thought you deserved it. You’re always working, and you seem to be the type who always takes care of everyone else, while no one really takes care of you. So I wanted to take care of you today.”

  She smiles and reaches across the table for my hand. “Thank you, but all of this isn’t necessary.”

  “A lot of things aren’t necessary, but that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve them,” I remind her.

  The waiter is back, placing a basket of bread on the table and leaving two menus behind. Harley lathers up a piece of bread with some butter to eat while flipping through the menu.

  “How was the spa?” I ask, looking over the menu.

  “Good. Weird, but good.”

  “What do you mean by weird?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess you were spot-on about me. It’s weird having people take care of me.”

  I roll my eyes. “You don’t always have to be so strong, Harley.”

  “I know, but it’s easier doing something yourself rather than waiting for someone to do it for you.”

  “From now on, I’ll do things for you,” I promise her without thinking about what I’m saying.

  “Until you’re married anyway, right?”

  Fuck, you’d think that’s something I wouldn’t be able to forget, but when I’m with her, all that other shit falls away. I haven’t even thought about why I took this trip to begin with. How long am I going to be able to put this off? Sooner or later, I’m going to have to attend that dinner. I’m going to have to address that problem. Bianca and I have put it off—hoping and praying that one of us would fall in love and have to break our parents’ hearts, but neither of us wanted to be the one to call it off. I guess I can still hope some guy catches her eye. But what if that doesn’t happen?

  The waiter is back to take our order and I silently thank God, because now I don’t have to answer. We both place our orders and sip at our wine. I need to shift the conversation away from my life that’s already planned out.

  “I have two tickets for us to see a show after dinner.”

  “That sounds like fun. What kind of show?”

  I smile. “A magic show. I know it sounds stupid, but the guy who sold me the tickets promised it was worth checking out.”

  She smiles. “Okay, we’ll check it out. And if it’s lame, we’ll find something else to do.”

  We have dinner and load back up into the limo. We ride side by side on the way back to the hotel, then I lead her into the theater. There’s a big stage up front, and the floor has tables and chairs scattered all around. The bar is in the back. We find our table and a waitress comes for our drink order. I order us some wine and she rushes off to retrieve it while the floor starts to fill up with people.

  Each table is draped in a red tablecloth, with a little candle in the center. Within 30 minutes, the room starts to darken and the curtains on the stage pull open. The magician introduces himself and starts performing the usual magic tricks. He pulls a rabbit out of his hat, does some card tricks, then starts to ask for volunteers. That’s when Harley leans over and whispers, “Can we get out of here? I really don’t want to be on that stage getting sawed in half.”

  I laugh. “My thoughts exactly.” I take her hand and lead her toward the door while the man on stage is too busy to notice that we’re walking out of his show.

  We’re both laughing and making fun of the show that “had to be seen” as we head into the casino. We order more drinks and start playing a few games. This feels much more natural. It doesn’t feel like it’s a forced date. This feels like us. Just the two of us having fun and ignoring the real world. The drinks go down smoothly but the games get stale. I can see on her face that she’s dying for some excitement, and to be honest, so am I.

  “Want to get out of here? We still have the limo for a few more hours. We can go drag the strip and see the sights.”

  Her smile widens. “Yes, I thought you’d never ask.”

  I place my hand on the small of her back and lead her back to the limo. The driver quickly races around to open the door, and we climb inside. I get to work on pouring us some fresh drinks and hand one over.

  “Thank you,” she says, clinking her glass off mine.

  “To us and all the responsibilities we ignore,” I joke.

  She laughs but takes a sip. “Speaking of all those ignored responsibilities . . .” she says, looking at me from the side of her eye. “When’s the big day?”

  “The big day?” I ask, unsure of what big day she’s referring to.

  “When is our little playtime going to come to an end? Are you on the verge of proposing to Bianca?”

  “Oh,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “Bianca and I talked recently, and she’s still in no hurry. I think we’re both hoping the other falls in love and calls this whole thing off, but neither of us wants to be the one who does it. She’s hoping I’ll fall for you, and I’m rooting for her to fall for anyone other than me,” I laugh out.

  She nods. “So she knows about us?”

  “Of course.” I look over at her. “I’m not into lying. I’ve been nothing but honest with both of you. And again, she and I aren’t . . . a thing. We’re not a couple. We don’t date or sleep together. There are zero feelings there. It’s just pressure from our family.”

  “But your parents . . .”

  I nod. “My parents and hers are a different story. They wanted us all to get together this weekend, but I lied and told them I was going to be out of town so I didn’t have to go. Bianca and I were both relieved to get out of it.”

  “So she doesn’t want to marry you?”

  “No.”

  “And you don’t want to marry her?”

  “Correct.”

  “Then why? Why not just tell your parents? Why go along with all of this?”

  I shrug. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” I take a drink and think over what I want to say. “When you’re born into money, people think that automatically makes you rich. But that’s not how it really is. When you’re born into money, it just means that everything has already been decided for you. There are more hoops to jump through. And if you refuse to play their little game, everything is taken away from you. In my case, I won’t get my rightful position in my father’s business, I won’t be allowed to take over the company, I’ll probably be disowned by my family, and I’ll be written out of every will and trust fund that’s meant for me.”

  She appears to be processing all of this information, so I continue. “Bianca is worried about the same things. She’s worried that her parents will no longer pay for her education—that she’ll be the black sheep of the family. She needs her family’s money, power, and connections to pursue her dream of opening a robotic limb research and development wing of her father’s company. She wants to do a lot of charity work with veterans, and as such, she needs that funding. So she wants to do right by her parents and give them what they want so she can keep her life as normal as possible.”

  She nods like she understands, but then she says, “I don’t understand.”

  “What? What don’t you under
stand, love?”

  “It seems to me that you’re fighting awfully hard to avoid losing something that isn’t worth anything anyway.”

  That shocks me and I feel my back straighten.

  She continues. “What’s more important: being rich and powerful or living the life you want by being happy and free?”

  My mouth opens but no words come out. I guess I never really thought of it like that before.

  “You really want to live your life under your family’s thumb? Money is that important to you?” She shakes her head. “Sorry, it’s all the alcohol talking. It’s your life and you should live it however you see fit, even if that means living for someone else’s idea of what it should be. It’s not my place to judge.”

  Conversation seems to stop between us as I think over her words. Is she right? Am I giving up too easily? And for what? Money, power, comfort? I could stay where I’m at in the company and live comfortably—nothing like how my father lives, obviously, but still, it would be a comfortable life. I could marry any woman I wanted. I could do whatever I wanted. But I do want to make my dad proud, and I want to run the family company someday.

  I finish my drink and pour another, topping off Harley’s while I’m at it. She looks over with a smile, almost as if she’s testing the waters.

  “Let’s check out the lights,” she says, opening the sunroof and standing up. With her head outside the car, I stand up to join her in the small space. Her hair is pulling free of its updo and flowing around her. The lights of the city brighten her face and make her eyes shine and her lips sparkle. I know that what she said is right. When I think of moving on with life—my way rather than my family’s—I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone but her. How is it that only she can make me feel this free?