“Sorry… I… I’ll let you get dressed before I say anything.” Isadora immediately turned her back to him, clutching the sheet tightly around herself as if it were the only thing protecting what remained of her dignity.
Valen, however, didn’t seem particularly bothered.
“We’re not children, Isadora.
Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a man like this before.” She glanced over her shoulder, already regretting it.
“That’s none of your business.” “Actually, it became my business when you walked into my living room half naked.” The words hit her like a slap.
Isadora’s eyes widened as she slowly turned her head toward him.
I walked into the living room like this?
She wanted to crawl under the sofa and never come out.
“You perverted man!” Valen raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking over her with deliberate calm.
“Perverted?
You’re the one staring.
If you’re going to accuse me, at least try to make it convincing.” Isadora’s mouth fell open.
“I was not staring!” “Of course not.” His tone was smooth, almost bored.
“You were conducting a very thorough investigation with your eyes.” Her face burned hotter.
“Shut up!” “Gladly.
The moment you stop shouting at me for the consequences of your own curiosity.” She grabbed the sheet tighter around herself.
“You’re impossible.” “No, I’m observant.
There’s a difference.” He paused, letting his gaze settle pointedly on the sheet wrapped around her.
“And for the record, I was generous enough to cover you with it after you vomited all over me.” Isadora froze.
Her face went from red to an even deeper shade of crimson.
“I…” The memory—or rather, the new information—sank in.
“I vomited on you?” “Yes.” She stared at him in horror.
“You’re lying.” “Unfortunately, I’m not.” Valen’s mouth curved into a sharp, humorless smile.
“Though I understand why you’d prefer that version.
It would make your current outrage much easier to defend.” Isadora covered her face with one hand.
“Oh my God…” Valen watched her silently, amusement glinting in his eyes.
Seeing the usually fearless Isadora reduced to a mortified mess was far more entertaining than it should have been.
She finally turned away from him, pulling the sheet even tighter around her body.
“Note to myself,” she muttered bitterly.
“Never drink alcohol again.” Valen’s lips twitched.
“That’s probably the first sensible thing you’ve said all morning.” She shot him an offended look over her shoulder.
“You could try being sympathetic.” “I am being sympathetic.” “You’re mocking me.” “Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” Isadora glared at him.
Valen leaned back, perfectly at ease.
“Besides, if I stopped teasing you every time you embarrassed yourself, you’d start expecting kindness from me.” Her eyes narrowed.
“And that would be so terrible?” “For you?” His smile sharpened.
“Absolutely.
You’d become unbearable.” .
.
Inside the private jet, the quiet hum of the engines filled the cabin as they flew back to their city.
Isadora sat comfortably across from Valen, still trying to piece together the missing parts of the previous night.
She had spent the entire morning feeling embarrassed, but her curiosity was slowly winning.
“So…” she began, glancing at him.
“What actually happened yesterday?” “Nothing interesting.” Isadora stared at him.
“Valen.” He continued looking at whatever was on his phone.
“Please tell me.” “I said nothing interesting.” She sighed dramatically and leaned back into her seat.
“We can’t even count on you for a little briefing.” Valen finally looked up.
“I’m not a journalist.” Isadora rolled her eyes.
“You know what?
Sometimes talking to you feels like trying to get information from a locked safe.” He ignored her.
But something else had been bothering him.
She genuinely remembered nothing.
That meant she had been far more drunk than he’d initially thought.
And yet, somehow, she’d sat at a baccarat table and practically destroyed everyone there before he won the final hand.
Valen studied her for a moment.
“Where did you learn to play baccarat?” Isadora turned toward him, surprised by the question.
“I play baccarat?” “You do now.” She blinked.
“Wait… I actually played?” “Yes.” “And I won?” “Several times.” Her face immediately brightened.
“I knew it!” Valen gave her a flat look.
“You don’t even remember doing it.” “That doesn’t make it less impressive.” He almost sighed.
“Who taught you?” “Oh.” Isadora thought for a moment.
“My cousin.” “Your cousin?” “Yeah.
He taught me a few years ago.
He’s… kind of a gangster.” Valen’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“A gangster?” She quickly waved her hands.
“Not the scary kind!” Valen stared at her.
Isadora hesitated.
“Okay, maybe a little scary.” She smiled awkwardly.
“He’s involved in some… questionable things.
But he’s not a thief.
He just has a few unusual skills.” Valen said nothing.
A gangster cousin.
Of course she had a gangster cousin.
For some reason, the information didn’t surprise him as much as it should have.
He looked out through the window, his thoughts returning to the events of the previous night.
The deal with Paul Webster had nearly fallen apart before Isadora had walked into the room, sat on his lap, and proceeded to dismantle the confidence of everyone at the table.
Who would have imagined that the woman he’d been trying so hard to keep away from his world would be the one who helped him secure the deal?
And she didn’t even remember doing it.
Valen glanced back at her.
Isadora was already looking out the window, completely unaware of what was going through his mind.
For once, he said nothing.
.
.
By the time they returned to the estate, Isadora had almost convinced herself that Las Vegas had been nothing more than a very strange dream.
Almost.
The moment she stepped out of the car, she spotted the familiar rows of guards, the massive entrance, and the same perfectly maintained gardens she had been staring at for the past month.
Everything looked exactly as it had before they left.
Which, honestly, was disappointing.
Las Vegas had been loud, bright, ridiculous—and she had loved every second of it.
Well… every second she could remember.
She glanced at Valen, who was already walking toward the entrance as if the entire trip had been nothing more than another item on his schedule.
“That’s it?” she called after him.
“We’re just going back to normal?” Valen didn’t stop.
“What were you expecting?” “I don’t know.
Something more dramatic.” “You vomited on me.
I’d say we had enough drama.” Isadora stopped dead.
She had been trying very hard not to think about that.
“Do you have to remind me?” “You asked what happened.” “I asked about the casino, not my personal humiliation.” Valen finally looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow slightly raised.
“You should have specified.” She narrowed her eyes at him before following.
Inside, Anthony was waiting near the entrance.
His expression remained composed, but the moment he saw Isadora, there was the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes.
She immediately pointed at him.
“Don’t.” “I haven’t said anything, Miss Matthew.” “Your face did.” Anthony wisely looked away.
Valen continued upstairs, leaving them behind.
Isadora watched him disappear before lowering her voice.
“Is he always this annoying?” Anthony gave her a thoughtful look.
“You have been living here for a month.” “Exactly.
That’s why I’m asking.” Anthony smiled and walked away before she could complain.
Isadora sighed.
Apparently, nobody in this house was willing to take her side.