The compliment warmed her blood. “I’m surprised you agree.”
“Sometimes I take business too far and forget I’m dealing with people. People who make mistakes.”
“Yeah, not like my problem.”
“That’s easy to fix. Best thing to do is take a breath and step away from the situation. You have a tendency to give, so if you’re getting a request that tugs on your emotions, tell them you’ll call them back. Stall them on a decision. That way you can assess the situation more clearly and not trap yourself in a corner. Make sense?”
Carina nodded slowly. “Yes, it does.”
“I fucked up so bad when I first started working for Michael. I fed the wrong report to an executive on a deal we were about to close. Saved the guy half a million dollars. He signed it before I caught the mistake.”
“What did Michael do?”
His eyes twinkled. “Gave me hell. Made me feel like shit. Then moved on and he never mentioned it again or ever held it over my head. I never gave away another dollar for free.”
Her spirit lightened. The casino lit up around them with energy, but for that moment, she felt completely alone with a man who seemed to know exactly what to say to soothe her heart. “I know one thing that would make me feel better. Less of a failure.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Celine Dion is doing a show tonight.”
He shuddered. “Anything else. My car, my money, my dog. Don’t make me listen to ‘My Heart Will Go On.’ ”
“Hmm, how do you know the title of the song, Max?”
He ignored her and took a long pull of his beer. His hand slid from hers and she tried not to mourn the loss. “I watched that movie Titanic for the action only.”
Carina laughed. “You are so busted. We’re going. Seven o’clock show.”
“How do you know I can get tickets? It’s probably sold out.”
She snorted. “Go do what you do best. Charm some helpless female. Offer her your body. We’ll be all set.”
“Fine. As long as we agree to close this topic of conversation. You screwed up. We’ll fix it and move on. Deal?”
She smiled. “Deal.”
“Good. I’ve got some meetings, so take the rest of the day off. I’ll take you to dinner before the show and we’ll test out the Venetian’s restaurant skills.”
“Perfect.”
He threw a few bills on the bar and stood up. “Try not to get into any trouble.”
“Good girls don’t get into trouble, do they?”
He shot her a warning look and left. She nursed the rest of her martini and sifted through her options. One thing was clear. She needed to fix things on her own—no matter the cost. Unfortunately, there was one way left.
Remove herself from the deal.
She traced the rim of her glass and held back a sigh. Even with her skills, her mistakes far outweighed her benefit. Maybe it was time to dig a bit deeper and find out what she really wanted instead of trying to be a carbon copy of everyone else. Her soul itched for freedom and creativity. What if La Dolce Maggie couldn’t offer what she really needed?
The thoughts danced in her head but she focused on the one thing she could control.
Fix the mess. She drained her drink, grabbed her purse, and headed back to the room to contact Sawyer Wells.
Chapter Nine
Sawyer belonged in Vegas. Carina tamped down on her nervousness while he prowled across his office like a large jungle cat. He shook her hand and invited her to sit down, as if deciding to play with his food before taking a bite. And, dear God, he looked like he could bite. Sex vibrated around him in waves, but there was something deeper that scared the crap out of her. He reminded her of the blond vampire from True Blood, with golden-boy looks and seething amber eyes to hypnotize any helpless female. His lush lips held a cruel curve, and his face was a mass of hard lines with sharp cheekbones and a wicked scar that curved from his brow down his cheek. The scar only added to the dangerous appeal. He wore his hair extra long, almost like her brother, but not long enough to be held back with a tie.
She’d done her homework and knew all the basics. The man boasted a long line of successful hotels he took over and pumped full of profit. Then something happened and he moved on to the next challenge. The Venetian was his current toy he took quite seriously, but the rumor mill hinted he planned to unveil a chain of luxury hotels throughout the country. He traveled to Italy frequently, and Max seemed to know him as more than a casual business partner.
She took a seat across from the sprawling teak desk and glanced around. His office was housed on the top floor of the Venetian. Ceiling-to-floor windows displayed the city in its glory, and reminded her more of a suite than a workplace, with matching teak furniture, bookcases, and a wet bar. Gorgeous artwork filled the walls, an intriguing mix of raw landscapes and erotica. She studied the lines of a couple naked but in shadow, wrapped around each other. The simple sensuality stirred something inside of her until she longed to study the picture. He caught her staring and a blush stained her cheeks.
“Do you enjoy art, Carina?”
“Very much. I paint myself.”
He settled in the leather chair behind his desk and studied her with a thoughtful air. “Interesting,” he murmured. “Professionally?”
“No, I put it aside so I could finish my MBA. I miss it, though.”
“You should never deny a part of your soul. Eventually it will wither and die, or fester inside until you cut it out.” His face shut down as if fighting an image from the past. “Life is too short for regrets.”
“Yes.” The odd conversation rattled her. Holy crap, was that a king-size bed in the attached room? And why was she suddenly thinking he didn’t only sleep there, but did other things?
“I have many contacts in the art world. If you ever think of holding a serious show, let me know. My dealer can spot talent immediately.”
She gave a quizzical look. “You’ve never even seen my work.”
“I have good instincts.”