Novel & Cerita What Happened In Vegas Book

“You know why I wasn’t back Saturday. Let me tell you why— because I was in Vegas.” “Vegas?” They say in unison, and I nod. “As in Las Vegas…” “Yes! Vegas, as in Nevada, Las Vegas!” Jo looks over at Aimee, who stares at me, her mouth agape. “I can’t remember a damn thing. I was so drunk I somehow ended up on a private jet flying to the fucking states.” “With that guy?” Jo questions, a dumbfounded look on her face. “Yes, with that guy,” I say, pulling my lacy black top on. “That’s not even the worst part, oh no, it gets better. We got married by Elvis. Like legally married.”

I shuddered at his description and shook my head before looking out the window “I’ll take you to a few places that you might like. They won’t be too crowded and you’d be able to at least enjoy having a decent meal at one of the restaurants. If you’re interested in bars, I can take you to one” “So, all you basically do at Vegas is go to bars, clubs, or restaurants?” I asked. Elijah chuckled and shook his head at my question “there isn’t anything that we can legally do without losing our heads, minds, or money on?” “Ever heard of the saying ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?’” *************************** “So, this club is yours?” I asked.

Seraphina's POV I knew that vodka was a bad idea. Taking Vodka with a certain De Luca on the loose was certainly a bad idea. I should've checked on the doors before deciding to drown myself in my misery. But it wasn't like I was planning on having anyone storm through my door like they had their pants on fire! God, I can't believe the things I told him! That I did! I pressed my palms to my flushed face, visibly shaking away the mocking flashbacks of my seduction to Lazaro. The most painful one of them all was the most unspeakable challenge I'd given him.

The mile-long buildings, the busy Strip, the luxurious cars and the imposing casinos made up the city of sin as it was; pure pleasure and fun. This was the city of drunken marriages, frequent divorces, unlimited debauchery and the flow of money. Whether as an ordinary citizen or as a millionaire betting his chips at a gaming table, everyone knew what to expect in Vegas. And in the middle of the hurricane that the street was, all lit up with vivid colors by the richness of the buildings, was Blair Collins. She got out of the limousine lightly, but what she got was a flood of looks in her direction. Some turned their heads as they walked, just to look at him for a second longer. Three women de

Brigail said through gritted teeth. "Yes, a fucking cash drain! He won a couple of rounds at first, but then Dumbo started spiraling down, so I cut my losses. I wasn't gonna stay and watch his sorry ass get kicked out of Vegas. I took off before he could drag me down with him," Mac continued, oblivious to Brigail's rising fury. "So, no, missy, I don't have a fucking clue what happened to Bert!" Brigail dropped her gaze to the floor as she unclenched her balled-up hands. A few deep breaths later, she looked up again with a saccharine smile on her unruffled face.

"What about Vegas? Did you get to see the sights? Meet any interesting people?" I fiddled with the edge of her blanket. "Not really. Mostly stuck in meetings about the new development project. Spreadsheets and blueprints don't leave much time for fun." "Oh, come on," Hazel groaned. "You were in Sin City, and all you did was work?" I smiled, remembering the casino floor. "I did try my hand at blackjack. Actually, won a decent amount." I twisted a strand of hair around my finger, hoping they wouldn't press for details about exactly how much - or who taught me.

When the plane landed, the afternoon sun was fierce, glaring through the window and making it hard to open my eyes. I walked out of the airport with my small suitcase, and a dry wind carrying the scent of dust hit my face. I squinted, pulling up the collar of my jacket. The view outside the car window quickly faded from the bustling Vegas Strip to an endless expanse of red rock and desert. "The Oasis," the Costello family's largest money-laundering hub in Nevada, and also its most notorious den of vice.

Prologue: Neon Veins Zacian POV The penthouse perched like a crown atop the Bellagio, its glass walls framing the Vegas sprawl below. It was a glittering beast pulsing with stolen light. I stood at the edge, hands braced on the cool rail, feeling the city's heartbeat thrumming up through the soles of my polished loafers. Neon veins snaked through the dark, marking the Strip's eternal carnival, a river of vice where fortunes flipped like cards in a rigged deck.

Alexander's Pov Vegas. The city was already buzzing in my veins before we even left the arena. Guys were hyped, coaches wired, the whole locker room pulsing with a restless energy. Road trips always brought it out of us, but Vegas? Vegas turned everything into excess — too bright, too loud, too much. And for me, too dangerous. I pulled my hoodie tighter as I sat on the bench in the corner, rolling my shoulder and testing my leg. It was holding. Barely. The ache was there, a reminder of how close I’d come to losing it all.

Ava The Las Vegas Book Festival was held in a sprawling park just off the strip. Tents stretched across the grass, white canopies flapping in the desert wind. Authors milled about, clutching coffee cups and clutching their nerves. Readers wandered between booths, arms loaded with books, faces bright with excitement. I was scheduled to speak at 2 PM on the main stage. My talk went well. Better than well. The crowd was warm, engaged, full of questions about forgiveness and healing and the stories that save us. I read from my novel—the passage about Elena learning to be alone—and watched as people wiped their eyes.