And water everywhere—tinkling water features that filled the valet areas, the crashing sounds of waterfalls from the bigger hotels, and a massive fountain that nearly every tourist tossed coins into as they passed—even here, away from the glitz and glamour of the large casinos.

As if reading my mind, Henry walked over to a three-tiered fountain, peeking inside before skipping a poker chip across the rippling surface. “Who would have thought there’d be so much water in the desert?”

Will walked out behind us, taking off his coat even though it was cold out. “Water is a necessity of life,” he said. “In order for a society to survive they need water to maintain its population. Such a seemingly cavalier and extravagant use of an important resource would illustrate that a community is thriving. A thriving populace makes people feel optimistic; an optimistic tourist spends more money and boosts the economy.” He shrugged, placing a stick of chewing gum into his mouth. “Plus, it’s just f**king pretty, you know?”

Henry gaped at him. “You really are a nerd.”

“Isn’t he, though?” Max said, smiling fondly.

Will lifted his chin toward Henry. “I’m not the one that just tossed a hundred-dollar chip into a fountain because it’s what I’ve been conditioned to do. So thanks for proving my point.”

Henry’s eyes widened and he raced back to the edge of the water. “Son of a bitch.”

Will leaned back against the brick fa?ade, hands in his pocket and suit jacket tucked in the crook of his arm. “So how are we continuing this weekend of debauchery? Dinner and then what? Skydiving? Virgin sacrifice? Matching tattoos to commemorate the loss of Ben’s balls?”

I smirked at him. Will had become a fixture in our lives ever since Max and Sara had reconciled. The five of us saw each other several times a week for lunches, dinners, and shows. Will was the designated bachelor of the group, and seemed to enjoy reminding us that Max and I were pu**y-whipped non-men. “The thing you couldn’t possibly understand, Will, is there is a benefit to f**king only one woman: she learns exactly what to do. I’m more than happy to give Chloe full access to my balls.”

At this Henry stepped away from the fountain again and moved toward Will. “Besides, a hundred bucks says you couldn’t even find a virgin in this place.”

Will glanced down to Henry’s waiting palm and laughed. “We’ve only been out of that club for two minutes and you’ve just thrown away a hundred-dollar poker chip and offered another hundred-dollar bet. I can’t wait to see what you do in an actual casino.”

“I win money,” Henry said, pounding his chest with drunken machismo, before wincing.

I groaned, scrubbing my face with my hand. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You just got a lap dance, Benny,” Henry said, shoving my shoulder. “How are you crabby? You should be smiling like a fool.”

I turned in the direction of Max’s laughter. “Ignore him,” he told the others while motioning to me. “Our Ben’s just feeling a bit frustrated is all.”

Fucking Max. With his hands in his pockets and that dopey smile on his face, he was a portrait of nonchalance, and the exact opposite of everything I felt.

I could strangle Chloe right now—a feeling I’d grown increasingly familiar with since the day we met. All this time and she could still push my buttons like no other. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure which of us was more f**ked up: her for getting off on teasing me like this, or me for enjoying it so damn much.

“So . . . plans?” Will repeated, pushing away from the building. “Are we standing here all night watching Bennett throw a fit or. . . ?”

Max checked his watch. “Dinner,” he said. “Mum made us reservations for the Steakhouse over at the Wynn. Supposed to be top-notch.”

Looking for our driver, I turned to look down the street, and a flash of green caught my eye at the opposite corner. Chloe. I’d last seen her with Sara, all bright eyes and teasing smiles as she’d left me inside the club. Now they waited on the sidewalk, arms outstretched as they attempted to hail a cab.

I blinked quickly to Max, who was busy arguing with Will and Henry about whether it was physically possible to eat a twenty-four-ounce porterhouse in less than fifteen minutes. Perfect.

I spotted our car as it rounded the corner and began its way up the drive toward us, and realized I’d have to act quickly. With only the vaguest threads of a plan in place, I grimaced, hunching over and pressing a hand to my stomach.