Daddy’s Rules by Kelly Myers
Savannah
After I land at the airport, I catch a taxi at the curb. “The Cosmopolitan, please,” I tell the driver.
I can’t believe I’m here. It’s only about two miles to the hotel and the moment we hit Las Vegas Boulevard, my eyes go wide. “Oh, wow,” I whisper and press my nose to the window. I have never seen anything quite like it.
“First time in Vegas?” the driver asks with a knowing smile.
“Yes,” I say, unable to look away from the towering hotels and endless tourists walking down The Strip. There really are no words to describe the vibrancy and life pulsating through the city. When we pull up to the hotel, I slide out and wait as the driver lugs my suitcase out of the trunk.
“Don’t get into too much trouble,” he says with a wink.
“Oh, I won’t. I’m here for work.” I smile and thank him then start toward the front doors. There are probably 100 people checking in and plenty of counters to do it. I walk up and it doesn’t take long to get my key and head toward the elevator.
Thirty floors up, I step off, find my room and unlock the door.
“Holy crap,” I say and wheel my suitcase inside. It’s freaking amazing with a huge bed, enormous bathroom and a giant TV up on the wall. My eyes are practically popping out of my head as I slide the balcony door open and step out. I lean over the rail and look down at a huge pool with fountains soaring straight up into the air. Lights blink and it’s like the water moves with the music.
“So cool,” I whisper.
I’ve never seen anything like Las Vegas, I think, and look out over the stunning view. I didn’t really have any expectations coming here, but I’m kind of blown away. Earlier, I spoke with my agent and she said I’m supposed to meet Nick Knight at some place called Beauty & Essex at 6pm.
It’s already after 5pm, I realize, and head over to my suitcase. I want to freshen up and look good, not like I just stepped off an airplane. I fix my makeup, curl my hair and change into one of the cute outfits that Jazz put together for me.
Thank God for Jazz,I think. I didn’t even think about dressing up or having a meeting tonight. I can’t even imagine meeting my photographer at some fancy restaurant in leggings and that plaid shirt I almost brought.
Good Lord, I would’ve looked like a complete country bumpkin, straight off the farm.
Instead, I slip on a cute swing dress and sandals. The hotel is a little chilly so I grab my little sweater, purse and phone.
And, I’m off.
I’m feeling a little overwhelmed when I walk into Beauty & Essex. There are crystals hanging from the ceiling and large velvet settees everywhere. I feel completely out of my element. It’s still early and not very crowded. But, even if the place was packed, I couldn’t miss the handsome man sitting at the bar.
Nick Knight.
My stomach gives a little flutter and I bite the inside of my lip. You can do this. I push my shoulders back and head over to where he waits. He’s taking a sip of his drink when I move up beside him. “Nick?” I ask.
Silvery-gray eyes flick my way and he swallows the whiskey down hard. When he starts to choke, my eyes go wide. “Are you okay?” I ask.
He nods and clears his throat. “Fine,” he manages and sets the glass on the bar. “You must be-”
“Savannah,” I say and extend my hand. He reaches out and grips my hand, looking at me with this strange, almost bemused, expression on his face. God, he’s just too good-looking and that makes me nervous. And, when I’m nervous, I talk.
A lot.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I gush and continue to shake his hand. “I’m really looking forward to working together. I’ve heard so many things about you and I have a feeling we’re going to have a really great time this weekend.”
When his dark brows shoot straight up, I realize that may have come out wrong. Oh, God, the last thing I want is for him to think I’m being unprofessional. I’m talking too much and this is turning awkward, but I can’t seem to stop my mouth. “On the shoot, I mean. I’ve never booked a campaign this big, but don’t worry because I plan to work very hard. I think it’s going to be a great experience for both of us and I look forward to getting to know you better and working with you and-”
“Savannah,” he says, interrupting me. He looks down and I realize that I’m still pumping his hand like an idiot. I let go and wipe my palms on my dress. “Relax.”
I nod, but suddenly, I wish I could walk back out the door and re-do this entire introduction.
“Our table is ready,” he says in a low voice and stands up.
I’m tall at 5’11” and rarely meet guys who are my height or taller. But, Nick is a good five inches taller and I have to look up at his face. And, I really like that. As we follow a server over to a corner table, I sneak a peek at his chiseled profile. He’s even better looking in person and I’m not surprised he used to model. It would’ve been a shame if he hadn’t shared all this glorious hotness with the world.
Nick pulls the chair out for me and I sit down. Then, he moves around the table and sits, eyes glued to me. I’m not sure what it is, but something in his intense, dark silver gaze makes me flush. I grab the folded napkin and lay it over my lap, not sure what to say.
“How was your flight?” he asks.
“Fine. How was yours?”
His mouth edges up. “Good, thanks. What would you like to drink?”
As if on cue, the waiter appears. “Another Jack on the rocks?” he asks Nick.
“Sure,” Nick says.
“And, for you, miss?”
“Um…” I grab the menu and open it. I don’t normally drink so that’s a good question. My brow furrows as I scan down the unfamiliar, fancy alcoholic beverages. I literally have no idea what I might like. Finally, I look up. “Can I just get some water?” I ask in a small voice. Yeah, I feel like the country cousin, straight off the plane from Hicksville.
The waiter nods “Sparkling or flat?”
“What?” For a second, I’m not sure what he’s asking, but then I realize. “Flat,” I say quickly and glance at Nick who’s looking at me with a completely blank expression. God, he probably thinks I’m the most unsophisticated person he’s ever met.
After the waiter walks away, Nick leans his forearms against the table and laces his fingers. “So, Savannah, what made you decide to become a model?”
“Well, I was always told I have the body for it,” I say and instantly regret my choice of words when his gaze drops. “I mean because I’m skinny. Or, I used to be. I guess I’ve filled out since then.” I give my head a shake realizing this meeting is not turning out the way I had hoped. I can’t help it. Nick is too gorgeous and it’s making me nervous as hell. And, all I wanted to do was impress him.
I look down and start picking at my nail polish. I wish I could crawl under the table.
“Any other reason?”
He sounds bored. “Um, well, the money is good.”
The waiter returns and sets our drinks in front of us.
“Inspiring,” he says and lifts the whiskey up to his lips.
His comment irks me and, after I sip my water, I meet his challenging gray gaze head-on. “It’s not my dream,” I clarify. “I’m modeling because-”
“Because it comes easy to you?”
My eyes narrow. What’s he inferring? That I have no talent and I’m just some dumb blonde with an empty head? “No. Because it’s a quicker path to what I really want to do with my life.”
He lifts his glass and swirls the amber liquid around. “And, what’s that?” he asks, sounding completely uninterested.
Suddenly, Nick Knight isn’t as attractive as I thought earlier. I don’t care for his nonchalant, arrogant attitude. Just because I’m younger than him doesn’t mean I’m some insipid little girl. “I’m going to be a veterinarian,” I announce proudly.
“Because you love animals so much?”
“That’s right.”
He raises that annoying brow again and I get the urge to flick it with my finger. “But, you wear leather shoes.”
“What?” His comment catches me completely off-guard.
“Your sandals. They’re leather, right?”
What a jerk,I think. But, he had me. For a moment, I don’t say anything. But, that doesn’t stop him from digging the knife a little deeper.
“I just figured a big animal lover would be a vegan. Or, at least, someone who avoids wearing animal carcasses.” He smirks and takes another sip of his drink.
Is he trying to get under my skin?I wonder. What did I do to make him be so incredibly rude? I’m so annoyed, I can’t even think of a comeback. Instead, I flip my menu open and focus on the different choices. Underneath the table, my knee is bouncing and all that nervousness from earlier morphs into aggravation.
And, dislike.
I decide that I do not like Nick Knight and the rumors about him being a pain in the ass to work with are obviously true. The whole thing puts a damper on my mood. So much for an amazing weekend in Vegas with a talented photographer.
Then, it hits me. He has the power to make my pictures look like shit if he wants. He literally holds my career in his hands. Ugh. The thought makes my stomach hurt.
When the waiter returns, I look up at him with a smile. “Do you have a vegan menu by any chance?”
Nick lifts a hand to cover his mouth and, for a second, it almost looks like he’s smiling behind it.
“Of course,” he says and returns with one a moment later.
I look over the unfamiliar food and inwardly groan. Yuck, yuck and yuck. I end up deciding on some pea-crusted tofu and hope it’s edible. Meanwhile, Nick orders the New York Strip steak with a sly smile in my direction.
I look away, checking out the other customers and cool decor. Neither of us says anything and the coolness grows until it’s like frost hangs in the air between us. God. We definitely got off on the wrong foot and I feel like I need to do something to fix that.
But, I didn’t do anything. He’s the one who started being rude. It’s my career, though, I remind myself. Just suck it up and do a little ass-kissing. “So, Nick...” I say. “What made you decide to become a photographer?”
“I enjoy taking pictures.”
“And, that was always your dream?”
“No,” he admits. “I started out as a model, but got bored fast. As you know, it’s not exactly challenging work.”
What a dick. I feel my eyes start to narrow, but I stop myself from getting angry and focus on remaining positive.
“One day, I picked up a camera and decided it was better being on the other side of the lens.”
“Are you from L.A.?”
“I live in Los Angeles, yes.”
“Me, too. What part?”
“Malibu.”
Of course.With the rest of the rich snobs. But, I can’t help my curiosity. “On the beach?” I ask a little wistfully, feeling a tinge of envy. I always dreamed of living on the beach one day.
He nods, clasped hands below his chin, studying me closely.
“That must be nice,” I say, completely sincere. “Falling asleep and waking up to the sound of the ocean.”
He clears his throat. “I like it.”
“When you open your back door, do you step right out onto the sand?”
Again, he nods.
My mouth curves up as I imagine living in a house like that. It’s probably $10 million or more. “I’m jealous,” I say and pick up my fork, twisting it around. He’s looking at me again in that very intense way of his, this time at my mouth, and it’s making me nervous. I hit the fork against my plate and it dings loudly so I quickly lay it back on the table. “What’s the best part?”
His gaze lifts from my mouth to my eyes. “Sorry?”
“About living on the beach?”
His gray gaze penetrates mine. “The beauty. It’s like, sometimes, you can’t look away. It sucks you in, captivates you. Take my breath away.”
My stomach flips at his words and his low, intimate tone makes me wonder if he’s still talking about the beach. I get the feeling this conversation just went somewhere else completely.
