"Who's your first love?" I ask Adrian.

He chuckles lightly. "A hundred dollar bill that I first held when I was eight or nine. Ah, she looked lovely."

"Excuse me?" I erupt into laughter that echoes through the walls, mirroring my jolliness.

He laughs along, his mood smooth and contagious right now.

"It's true. I knew I had to do everything possible to have more of them, and it became my life's goal—to earn more money," he says plainly.

My laughter slowly dissipates. For some reason I get the feeling that his childhood was a bit rough, to put it mildly. Am I imagining things? The tone of melancholy in his voice and the light smile resembling a fainting star in the sky make me rather concerned about his life.

It's as if the past isn't his favorite place to visit, making me highly curious.

But I brush it off with another gentle laughter, grabbing the ice cream container for more. We're still in the living room, seated on the fluffy silver-gray rug, our backs against the couch, facing the fireplace warming the air. The flames dance and fuss smoothly, becharming us.

It's ethereal when we laugh over silly things while having a vanilla ice cream in the middle of the night. Barefoot, my legs brush against Adrian's from time to time, and he toys with my hair at every chance he gets, if not laying playful kisses when I laugh too hard over some of his remarks.

"Fine." I lick my spoon, the coldness in my mouth ever-refreshing. "What about your favorite color?" I look up at him expectantly.

I guess we're playing twenty-one questions or something, and it's so funny.

"Blue and black, I guess," he answers simply.

"Fair enough. You do those colors justice," I remark, considering the navy blue suit he's wearing tonight, with the jacket discarded on the couch by now. Hot! "Favorite city?" I go on.

"New York City."

"Why?"

"New York is a mass of dreams and activities," he replies simply. My eyes narrow carefully at him, thinking of his answer in depth. "It's where I first had a true taste of life—in a hard way, of course. The hustle, the pain, and the reward. It's home to me."

"Hmm, I see. Alicia Keys would be enthralled with your answer, sir," I murmur under my breath, taking another spoonful of ice cream.

Adrian laughs again and says, "That is surely unexpected."

"Well." I pull in a breath, chuckling. "Music! What kind of music do you like?"

I smile when his eyebrows knit together in a fleeting moment, thoughtful. What? He doesn't listen to music? That can't be. Everyone loves music.

"Jazz, soul, blues, and R&B. Preferably old school," he answers.

"Hey-yo, Grandpa!" I giggle. He scoffs. "Like... you probably snuck out to watch Lionel Richie performing live in the 90s. Or 80s? How old are you again?"

"Anything but an old man," he snaps with a playful tone in his voice. "But maybe I would have gone if I had such luxury in my teenage years."

"Grandpa is is!" I giggle again and he just lays his head back, smiling. "So you do love music?"

His smile widens; he shakes his head to the sides. "I listen when I can. But love country music more than any other."

"Oh, giddy up, cowboy! You're a fan of countries? Because I could listen to them all day long! I mean, every song is a story, that's why." I sit straighter, somehow feeling nostalgic as my dad would blast them in his player on most Sundays, from dawn to dusk, and they stuck in my head until today.

And I still can't get over that Kenny Rogers didn't marry Dolly Parton.

God, they were quite a duo.

Smiling, Adrian nods tiredly. "We should go to sleep now since you clearly made this about me and I've answered enough questions for eternity," he finally says while casting a glance at his watch.

"Oh, come on, Adrian. I still have fifteen questions to go!" I whine.

"It's past midnight, Arabella. We still have tomorrow," he rebukes.

Tomorrow? Do we have it?

"We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow," I sing one of K. Roger's greatest tracks, trying to stir Adrian. "We've got tonight baby, why don't you stay."

He squints his eyes, probably burning inside from my rough vocal, before snorting a loud laugh and saying, "Get up, Arabella. Time to sleep."

It's that dominant voice. Fuck me!

"Yeah, sure," I whisper.

I can't believe we're still up even after the melodramatic dinner we had at the Coopers and the kinky stuff that followed. It's amazing because I thought I'd be angry at him for spanking me like a kid but I'm not.

Strangely I feel terrifically fine.

We go straight to bed and I fall asleep in his arms. Truth be told, I earnestly wish the morning never comes, for I fear tomorrow will be the last day I'll get to spend with him this close, this intimately, and it pains me brutally.

When the new day comes it's like the world is at a standstill. It's still only the two of us here, far from bustling city noises and people. I try to exit from the bed but Adrian pulls me back into his arms. I let out a moan. I can tell where he's heading with this and I'm not complaining.

"What?" I grin at him.

"Stay with me," he whispers in a deep husky voice.

Sexy as hell, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Tiny kisses end up in deep-throat ones. It doesn't take long until I'm straddling his lap, his cock buried inside me, and I ride him like a wild cowgirl. He groans, slapping my ass hard enough to make me jump in a start, and it's a fucking turn-on that I never knew I was into until now.

Way to go, Arabella Lincoln!

We set breakfast outside, moments later. Fresh air surrounds us on the balcony, and the lake view is spectacular. I'd say this is the best weekend of my life, and even if it's a momentary pleasure, I'm glad I got to share it with this man. He came into my life like a thief—very unexpected—and I'm afraid he's stolen my heart by now.

Now how will my life be when he's gone?

"Something wrong?" he asks while putting his coffee mug down, a frown on his face.

I forge a smile. "Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking about stuff."

"What stuff?" he quizzes.

Before I can respond my phone rings. It's Sally. I was planning to call her soon after breakfast, but it appears telepathy does exist.

"Hey, cuz," I start jubilantly.

"Hey." Her voice is disturbingly low.

I scowl, eyes on Adrian.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" I urge.

Sally breathes heavily. "Jake disappeared yesterday morning and we can't find him."

"What?" I snap, confused. Sally sighs again in response. "I mean, what do you mean he disappeared?"

"As it is, Ara. We can't find him anywhere!"

"Okay, hold on." I laugh nervously. I mean, it's Jake, not Isla. "He probably went back home—did you try to call or text him?"

Sometimes all he desires is to be completely alone, that's all.

"We called, Ara. He wasn't answering the whole night, and this morning someone picked up the call claiming the phone was lying on the subway inside a backpack. I don't know what to make out of this, that's I'm informing you so—"

"Hold on a second!" I stand up briskly, my heart pounding fast now. Adrian lends me his full attention, giving me a quizzical look. "Someone answered his phone? What does that mean, Sally?"

"I don't know, Ara! That's why I called you! Do you have his friends' number or something? Josh and I are on the way to the police station. The guy who answered the phone said he left the bag there."

"Okay, I'll call his friends. But did you check at home? I mean, my home?"

"We did, Ara."

Fuck! God, please, no.

Panic strikes through my blood, and Adrian's frown deepens as he stands up as well, unable to understand why I'm loitering around with a hand on my head while looking like this—crazy and lost.

"Try to ask around; we're doing the same. And I'm so sorry, Ara, I shouldn't have let him go when you specifically told me to keep an eye on them."

"Don't, Sally, please. I'll be there soon," I say sternly.

"Alright. Later." She ends the call.

Adrian immediately asks, "What's wrong?"

"Jake is missing?" I say it as it is.

His eyes narrow tightly. "Missing?"

"I don't know, Adrian!" I stride aimlessly, my head all over the place. "He didn't sleep at Sally's and someone picked his stuff from the streets or something. I don't know anything, but he's not anywhere to be found. I think it's time to go."

"Hold on." He grabs me as fast as he can, stilling me in his tight grip so I don't leave. I pant heavily, my inner equilibrium all disturbed. "Sit down. Let me make a call first."

***

I've called Jake's best buddies, Aidan and Scott, but none of the two has any idea about his whereabouts. Aidan last saw him on Friday at school, and Scott during their online game battles yesterday morning, and he hasn't logged in ever since.

So where could this brother of mine be right now? God, he knows how to kill me!

"You had one fucking job!" Adrian snaps, scolding someone on the phone. "Oh, please, don't give me the bullshit! You have thirty minutes to give me the news or else things will be ugly. Use every contact you have! Thirty minutes!"

He hangs up rather furiously before sucking in a deep breath, looking as stirred as I am. When our eyes meet my heart sinks.

"Nothing?" I ask him.

"Yet." He trudges over and pulls me into a hug. "We'll find him, I promise," he tells me almost confidently.

"I know." I close my eyes, hugging him so tightly as if life depends on it. "He's fine. I know he is."

"Good." He kisses my hair. "Get dressed. We should head back to the city."

I bob my head swiftly. "Okay."

Back to the bedroom, I pack some of my things. Adrian joins me shortly while talking to someone else on the phone, but not in English. Shock is evident in my eyes as I roughly brush my hair, and he's too oblivious to pay attention.

"Ascolta, mi serve un favore," I hear him saying this from the dressing room.

(Look, I need a favor)

Since I have a thing for foreign languages, I don't need miracles to understand what he's said. I'm just surprised that he's familiar with Italian, and the more he speaks, the more proficient he sounds.

Will I ever know him?

"Are you ready?" he asks me about five minutes later, fully dressed in a white T-shirt and blue jeans.

"I'm ready," I breathe, trying my best to stay composed despite the terror smeared inside me.

Adrian wears a brown leather jacket, looking boyish and tenacious like a southern biker. I'd be ogling him under different circumstances, but not right now. I dash into the bathroom for a leak and return as quickly as I can, and much to my dismay, I see him stashing a pistol under his jacket.

Expertly.

My heart skips a beat; I nearly freeze when he turns around to face me. I didn't know he had a gun. I'm not a stranger to any of this stuff, because apparently, most businessmen in Las Vegas own a gun for protection and whatnot. I just didn't think Adrian Castle could be one of them.

"Um, now I'm ready," I say with a small, elusive smile.

His blank eyes are somehow full of questions, but I can play the poker game quite well as a girl who was born and raised in Sin City. Quite naturally, I reach for my shoulder bag and then straight toward him.

"We'll find him, right?" I look him straight in the eyes.

I'm scared, honestly.

"We will." His thumb pads my lip as he smiles down at me. He kisses passionately before uttering, "Now quit the long face. Shall we?"

I nod with a sigh. I know everything will be fine, especially with him by my side. I just want my brother safe.