Chapter 2

Chaos unravelled the moment they arrived at the airport. It was heaving with crowds, bustling with stressed-out passengers, and scattered with the unmistakable sight of armed police on patrol. The buzz of voices mixed with the sharp beep of announcements overhead, the air tense with something unspoken.

They pushed their way through the crowds, checked in their bags, and headed straight through security. By the time they collapsed into the soft leather seats of the VIP lounge, the adrenaline of the morning had finally worn off—just in time to hear the announcement neither of them wanted to hear.

“Delayed,” Lauren groaned, throwing her head back against the chair dramatically.

Mia walked over to the front desk. The man behind it had a clean bald head and a thick, dark beard, his hands moving quickly across the keyboard.

“Excuse me,” she said politely. “What’s going on?”

The man glanced up, his expression professional but tight. “Bomb threat last night. We’ve had the suspect arrested, nothing’s been found, but it’s put us behind schedule. Right now, we’re about sixteen hours behind, but we’re catching up.”

Mia’s stomach dropped. She glanced at Lauren, whose wide grin faltered for the first time all day.

“Is there any way to get on another flight sooner if we bought new tickets?” Lauren asked, clearly unfazed by the threat of bombs or delays.

“I’m not sure,” the man replied, already standing to head into the back. “Let me make some calls.”

Mia sat down again, her heart sinking. She knew something was going to go wrong—it was just typical of their luck. Something always threw a wrench in the works.

Five long minutes later, the man returned, tapping furiously at his computer. “Right. Here you go—your tickets have been upgraded, and the cost has been waived. You’ll also receive a refund for your original flights within the next forty-eight hours. Your flight leaves first, in about two hours. Gate’s over there—be there half an hour before boarding. Hope you have a lovely flight.”

Both of them blinked at him, stunned.

“Wait—what? Why us?” Mia asked. “I’m not ungrateful, don’t get me wrong, but why would we get priority over people who’ve probably been here longer?”

He smiled faintly, clearly used to confused travellers. “Private donor. Big cash injection earlier this morning, plus a private jet. Told us to offer the next available upgrades to whoever looked like they wouldn’t expect it. Looks like that’s you.”

He handed over the details and sent them on their way.

Lauren practically skipped back to the lounge seats, grinning ear to ear. “Well, that’s one way to start a holiday.”

Mia’s brain was still racing, but honestly, she was done questioning it. Whether it was luck or something stranger, she wasn’t about to turn down a free upgrade and the kind of luxury she couldn’t even afford in her imagination.

She shoved the nerves down, replacing them with something else—anticipation. Money, mystery, Vegas, and maybe—finally—something fun again.

A private jet was unlike anything Mia had ever experienced. Smooth leather seats, polished wood surfaces, chilled champagne. They spent the long flight across the Atlantic laughing over glasses of prosecco, sharing stories, eating food that looked like it belonged in some glossy magazine, not an airplane tray.

For once, Mia didn’t feel the weight of her usual overthinking dragging her down. She let herself enjoy it—the drinks, the company, even the ridiculous luxury of it all. The film they watched blurred in the haze of alcohol and soft cushions, and by the time they crawled into their private pods to sleep, she was almost giddy with it.

A few hours later, Mia woke to the gentle offer of a hot towel. She sat up, refreshed but slightly dazed, while Lauren stretched out with a groan.

“They don’t think about tall people needing to lie completely flat, do they?” Lauren whined, poking her head out from her sleep pod.

Mia rolled her eyes with a smile. “You can’t complain. We were meant to be in economy seats, remember? I’m just glad I’m getting that money back.”

Lauren pouted, fixing her makeup lazily in her compact mirror. Mia watched her with affection and amusement, letting the easy comfort of the moment settle over her like a warm blanket.

The announcement came through gently, informing them that landing would take place in twenty minutes and that Las Vegas was enjoying pleasantly warm weather today.

“That was… interesting,” Lauren said with a grin. “I don’t get how or why this is happening, but I’m here for it.”

“For once, I actually agree with you,” Mia replied, tightening her seatbelt. And for the first time since they’d booked the trip, she really meant it.

The landing was so smooth Mia barely noticed the wheels touch down. They gathered their things quickly, stepping into the arrival lounge where hot, dry air kissed her skin and bright blue skies stretched endlessly overhead.

As they made their way through baggage claim, Mia spotted a man holding a sleek white card with their names written neatly across it.

“Do we… have a driver?” Mia asked, glancing at Lauren, who just gave a wicked grin in return.

“Before you ask, no—I didn’t pay for that,” Lauren whispered, eyes glinting. “Stop asking questions and run with it before someone changes their mind.”

The car waiting for them outside was enough to make Mia’s breath hitch. A matte black Bentley, perfectly polished, roaring softly like it knew its own worth. The driver—a tall, suited man with sharp features and movie-star confidence—took their bags with practiced ease.

Champagne glasses were handed to them before they’d even left the airport.

As the car glided through the sunlit streets of Las Vegas, Mia couldn’t help but feel like they’d accidentally stumbled into someone else’s life.

If this was how the trip was starting, she was ready for whatever came next.

When they finally arrived at the casino hotel, both of them stood in stunned silence.

It wasn’t tacky or neon like Mia had imagined—it was beautiful. Elegant, modern, clean lines balanced against ancient architecture. The entrance hall was stunning: high ceilings, modern furniture in soft greys and whites, centred around a large grand piano, its keys catching the light like polished teeth.

And beyond that, a grand staircase, deep red carpet stretching up the centre like something out of a movie premiere.

They made their way to the reception desk, the driver trailing behind with their bags.

“Booking under Croft,” Lauren said, flashing her phone for the confirmation.

The receptionist smiled warmly. “Welcome. We’ve moved your booking—there was a technical issue, but the money processed fine, so you’ve been upgraded. You’ve been placed in one of our guest penthouses. All-inclusive. Spa treatments available from ten to six, no charge. The WiFi code is on the back of this brochure. Anything else you need, don’t hesitate to call.”

Lauren practically bounced on the spot as she was handed the keys.

As they were escorted up to the penthouse, Mia stood in the elevator, glancing at their reflections in the mirrored walls. Somewhere between cautious lawyer and hopeful adventurer, she was starting to feel something she hadn’t felt in months:

Ready.

Vegas had no idea what was coming for it.