Hardened: A Vegas Nights Novella

By Ophelia Sikes

Las Vegas. Sin City. Heidi stepped off that plane ready to re-invent herself. Ready to delve into the glitz, glamour, and fantastical unreality which defines the mantra, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

What she wasn't ready for was Aedan.

Billionaire playboy. Supermodels dripping down his well-muscled body. He seemed to have it all. But for some reason he kept appearing where she least expected. And he made her feel a way she swore she never would again.

Like she could trust him.

Until the dark revelation that threatens to destroy her ...

Half of all proceeds of this novella benefit battered women's shelters.

Hardened is the first novella in the Vegas Nights series. Due to the strong sexual content and adult situations, this book is recommended for readers aged 17+.

Vegas is a spectacular place. I’ve been there many times. It’s a world of exploring exotic fantasy and releasing submerged desires. It boasts gorgeous, jaw-dropping artwork and bass-pounding nightclubs.

But Vegas is also a place with its dark side. Many are lured in by the bright lights and become lost in the shadows. One only has to look at the beggars lining the bridges, or the homeless found only blocks away from the shine of the strip, to see what can happen when gambling, drugs, drinking, and other vices run their course unchecked.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ophelia Sikes
• Release date: Feb 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310927898

Ophelia Sikes

Ophelia Sikes fervently believes that every one of us deserves heartfelt, passionate love in our lives.Half of the proceeds of this book’s sales benefit battered women’s shelters.Please send along as much feedback and suggestions as you can. The more we can polish these worlds and characters, the more we can help the cause.

Book preview

Hardened

Vegas Nights

Book One

Ophelia Sikes

Copyright © 2015 by Ophelia Sikes /

Minerva Webworks LLC

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Ophelia Sikes.

Book design by Ophelia Sikes

Visit my website at OpheliaSikes.com

Newsletter:

http://www.opheliasikes.com/subscribe.asp

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and events are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Printing: February 2015

- 1 –

Half of all author’s proceeds from this book benefits battered women’s shelters.

Trust In Yourself.

Hardened

Chapter 1

"What fire does not destroy, it hardens."

-- Oscar Wilde

The pair of walking-stick-thin women in front of me shrieked in delight, high-fiving each other, their skimpy, neon dresses riding even higher up their toothpick legs. We’re back in Vegas! squealed the blonde, teetering against the wall of the narrow hallway which led from the plane to the terminal.

I know! I know! We’re gonna be even crazier this year! giggled the brunette.

I put my head down and continued tugging at my small, black rolling bag. They seemed to be about my age – twenty-three, if I had to guess – but it seemed many years since I had been that carefree. Life hadn’t been hard on those two, judging by the diamond necklaces and Cartier watches. In comparison, my own bag was ratty, stained, and dented in on one side. I was in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. And I was completely exhausted.

The women bubbled on before me, undoubtedly off to pick up a massive, matching Coach luggage set from the carousel. The bags would be bulging with slinky dresses and gem-encrusted jewelry for their nights of high-rolling adventure.

My own work would be at night, as well – and I supposed it was certainly an adventure. But I imagined our paths were unlikely to cross.

I trudged into the terminal following the streaming crowd of hat-wearing cowboys and sparkling cowgirls. Apparently some sort of a rodeo must be in town, judging by the Western attire of most of my fellow passengers. Mid-December seemed a strange time for it, but this was Vegas, after all. It was always the right time for anything and everything.

We passed storefront after gloomy storefront closed down by metal gates. It was just after nine p.m. local time, but apparently Vegas’s all-night reputation didn’t extend to the airport terminals. The area was a ghost-town. The blocks of slot machines sat silent, no eager customers to push their buttons while dreaming of mansions and yachts.

I kept my head down as I walked and walked. Maybe this would finally be the city that would make it all work out. Or maybe, once again, I’d find myself boarding yet another plane, hoping against hope that my solution finally waited for me at the destination.

I glanced down at my bag, where my prize possession lay within. A Canon EOS60. Not the most expensive camera in the world, by a longshot, but it was all I could afford. When I’d dropped out of Georgetown, two years ago, I’d fallen back on my second dream, to be a photojournalist. I’d gone to New Orleans to interview the blacks about challenges in life in post-Katrina days. Then I’d gone to El Paso, to seek out Hispanics there to discuss the issues with immigration.

Time after time, the person took one look at my short, pale blonde hair, my ivory skin, and my rounded curves. Then they closed the door. I could see their thought as clear as day, shining in their eyes.

How could she possibly understand?

I sighed. I had to find a way to make it work. Here, in Vegas, I might be seen more as a part of their world. I was going to take a different approach here. I had managed to convince a major paper in Houston to send me out for a week to take a series of photos for a travel series. I could then do my own work off-hours and finally make a difference in the world. It would undoubtedly be utterly exhausting – but I knew somehow I would find a way to juggle both tasks at once.

The paper had wrangled forty-a-night rooms at the Luxor and given me a fifty-a-day meal stipend. That had sounded ample until I researched prices in Vegas and found that a lone burger could easily cost fifteen.

Ketchup was extra.

I looked ahead of me and stopped. A weary smile stretched my lips. Apparently someone at this airport had a sense of humor. A large, stone lizard had been sculpted to look as if it was climbing up out of the floor. It had a bright, welcoming look in its eyes.

That playful image could be perfect to illustrate one of the stories.

I plunked down next to my bag and bent over to unzip the main compartment. I drew out my camera –

Wham.

I was bowled over.

My camera – my precious, irreplaceable, last-chance-at-hope camera – went flying out of my hands. It sailed toward the lizard’s shimmering concrete spikes.

My cry choked out of me in sheer panic.

A strong, muscular hand reached out and snagged the strap as easily as one plucked an apple from a low-hanging branch. Then he turned.

He was stunningly handsome. His eyes were sapphire blue, set beneath short-cropped dark hair. His face had a carven look to it, as if he’d been sculpted from granite. And his muscles … clearly whatever he did in life, it was active. A firefighter? Bull wrestler? Strip-tease artist? Heck, here in Vegas, pretty much anything was possible.

A pair of giggles sounded behind me. I turned. It was the blonde and the brunette, their breasts straining against their skin-tight outfits as they bounced in glee. Oh, Aedan! You were awesome!

My heart sank, and I turned back to him. I took in his outfit more clearly now. The Rolex on his wrist easily cost more than everything I owned – all of which was either worn on my body or tucked in the bag at my side. With the exception, of course, of my camera,