 
### The Big Blind

By Nicolette Pierce

Published by Nicolette Pierce at Smashwords

The Big Blind is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Original Copyright © 2013 titled The Big Blind by Nicolette Pierce

2nd Edition © 2018

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

_For Lucas_ _—_

Your sweet smile and unlimited supply of energy makes every day a new and exciting adventure.
**Ack** **nowledgements**

A huge thank you to Nikki Gavin for, once again, giving me excellent advice and guidance. Also, thank you for suggesting the book's title. Fantastic!

Thank you, Judy Hanson, for reviewing the novel and for your wonderful advice.

Victoria Jacobson, a gigantic thank you for your help with the daunting task of editing. Writing would be so much more difficult without you!

Kathy and Bill, thank you for helping me with toddler duty so I could have a little time without sticky fingers all over my keyboard.

Thank you, Lonnie and Amy, for being the wonderful friends you both are and for reading my book when it was in its most ragged state and not threatening to end our friendship. Love ya!

Thank you to my new editor, Amber Barry, who helped transform this book into something special.
Books by Nicolette Pierce

Mars Cannon Novels

Deadly Dancing

Predator Patrol

Security Squad

Biker Brigade

Fearsome Foursome

Nadia Wolf Novels

The Big Blind

High Stakes

Cashing Out

Squeeze Play

The Last Tailored Suit

My Traitor

Pocketful of Diamonds

Last Hand

Metal Girls Trilogy

Melting Point

Critical Point

 Breaking Point

Loved by Reese

When Rio Surrenders

When Rome Falls

When Edinburgh Dreams

When Sydney Loves

When London Calls

Please visit Nicolette on her website at:

www.nicolettepierce.com

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### TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28
Chapter 1

Some of my earliest memories are of my dad and his loudmouthed, dirty-joke-telling friends gathered around a wobbly, makeshift poker table. They puffed on large cigars that, judging from the smell, could only have been made with donkey dung. I opted for a blue bubblegum cigar. It had all of the flash with none of the stench. I didn't want pink cigars. Those were for girls, and I wasn't a girl; I was a poker player.

My mother insisted they edit their language and jokes around me, which they did quite colorfully. Jokes became coded with "her maracas, his beef stick, and doing the humpty-dumpty dance." It didn't take a genius to break those codes.

I found my niche at an early age. By the time I was a teenager, none of my dad's friends would play Texas Hold'em with me. They would make me sit out until they switched to Omaha or Stud. By then, I had kicked the bubblegum-cigar habit and got hooked on something much more sinister—pretzel rods. While my friends talked about boys and clothes, I talked about Doyle Brunson and odds.

My name is Nadia Wolf, and I'm a professional poker player . . . but on some days that's debatable. I'm twenty-eight years old. I wouldn't say there's anything remarkable about me, but I've been told I'm not terribly hard on the eyes. I'm five-feet-six. My hair is long, brown, and infused with copper highlights. I like my green eyes the best. My dad jokes that my eye color must have come from the neighbor across the street with the suntanned skin and game-show-host smile. Mom stays tight-lipped when the subject comes up, but I think that's because it's an old and tired joke. She lost her sense of humor when "MacGyver" went off the air.

Poker is still a man's game, but plenty of women have infiltrated and can rival any man at the table. I moved to Las Vegas a few years ago and have been earning enough money working the tables to scrape by. It's been a slow journey, and the life of high stakes still eludes me.

Itching to further my poker career, I entered a tournament for which I had to scrimp and save. If I'd had anything worthy of selling, I would have sold it in a heartbeat. The World Poker Tournament is an event every serious poker player dreams of winning. The million-dollar prize is worth the risk. A manly diamond bracelet is also awarded to the winner. The prestige of winning the bracelet is similar to that of a gold medal for an Olympian . . . at least in the poker world.

The buy-in cost had been ten thousand dollars, and I was in my first day of the tournament and nearly on my last chip. My brain and checkbook were in agony as I narrowed my eyes at the man sitting across the table. He met my gaze and held it. His blue eyes were as unreadable as they normally were. My pulse jumped.

His lips curled to reveal his straight, white teeth. "Raise," he said, shoving five thousand dollars worth of chips to the middle of the table as smoothly as his voice had called it.

Damn it!

I'd been tangled in hands with Caleb Usher a few times before, and I'd never escaped unscathed. Of all the tables in this damn poker tournament, how did I get stuck with him?

I fingered the corners of my two playing cards laying face down on the table and inspected my tiny stack of chips. If I called, it would be an all-in bet. I had a pair of queens, but it wasn't enough for me to go all-in. The risk would be too high. My ten-thousand-dollar buy-in could be gone the second he turned over his cards.

I have a gambler spirit like the rest of the players in the tournament, but I couldn't rely on just luck. There were too many possible outs. Caleb could make a straight or flush and my pair of queens would be garbage. And he's well-known for his unbeatable luck. My personal theory is that he has secret leprechaun DNA. I nearly smirked at the thought, but I had to stay in control of my facial movements. Any small twitch or tick could be considered a tell. An uncontrolled tell is the death of a poker player.

The rest of the players gazed at the table in boredom, having been sitting hour after long hour in the same spots. Their hands were busy, mindlessly shuffling their stacks of chips, waiting for the next round. I ignored the continuous clicking sound their shuffling produced.

My eyes cut back to Caleb. He sat perfectly still; his eyes bored into me. Anyone else would have looked down or hid behind their sunglasses. Caleb was serious and that wasn't his nature. He gave me the tell I needed. He wasn't toying with me the way he normally did. Throwing my hand to the dealer, I flashed a courtesy smile at Caleb.

"I'm out," I said, with only a hint of defeat that began bubbling up from my last round.

The dealer shoved the pot of chips over to Caleb and swiped the cards from the table.

It was the last hand of the evening. Even with the setback, I had survived the first day of the tournament. I grimaced at my few remaining chips and sighed. Tomorrow was going to either be an extremely short day or a monumental uphill battle. I'd have to go all-in to grow my stack . . . but going all-in is a one-shot play.

A redhead with long legs and a plunging neckline that showed off her ample cleavage bent over to give Caleb a long, slow kiss; her skirt hitched up, causing the remaining men at the table to blink out of their stupor.

"Sugar pie, can we go now? I'm bored, and the camera crew is on the other side of the room. They didn't get one shot of me today," she pouted.

He smiled at her. "Yeah, let me just turn in my stack."

I busied myself and gathered my belongings. I stretched as I stood from the table and let out an appreciative sigh. It felt fantastic after hours parked at the poker table.

"Nadia."

I glanced up and caught a chip tossed at me before it breezed by my ear.

Caleb smirked. "See you tomorrow."

"I hope not," I said. And I meant it.

With him at my table, I was sure to lose. Winning against Caleb is like winning an art contest when all you know how to draw is a stick figure. The odds were grim at best.

I gathered my bag and made my way out of the tournament room. I trekked through the casino, dodging slot enthusiasts along the way. As I turned past the Let It Ride tables, I caught sight of a familiar figure playing at a Blackjack table. I veered to get closer to him.

"Hey, Roy," I said.

Roy turned to me with a wink and a half-cocked smile. "You done already?"

"I made it through the day, but I'm seriously short-stacked. I don't know how far I'll make it tomorrow."

"You'll do fine, kid." Roy smiled. Tossing his cards down, he dropped a chip on the table for the dealer and pocketed the rest. "Let's go. I'll buy dinner, but if you win the tournament, you owe me ten dinners."

I chuckled. "Deal."

I'd met Roy Scofield when I first moved to Las Vegas and lost miserably to a card shark. He'd detected what had happened and stepped in before I made a mess of things. He's at least thirty years older than I am and has the attitude of a 1970s pit boss. He's rough around the edges, but there's a soft, squishy center in him that he denies. My attempts to retire his gold-plated pinky ring and hubcap-sized belt buckle have failed. He's old-school Vegas through and through.

Roy's been my mentor and friend. He taught me the ropes and gave me the lay of the land. Without him, I think I would have packed up long ago and moved back home; sometimes, after days like today, I still think I should.

* * *

"I saw Caleb at your table," Roy said as he knifed and sawed at his leathery steak.

"He nearly knocked me out on the last hand, but he gave me a tell, so I folded."

Roy eyed me as he chewed on a bite. "Caleb doesn't give tells."

"I know."

Here's the thing about professional poker players: They're tricky. They like to make moves that will throw you off guard or that make you think you understand their playing style when actually it's all for show. You can't make a living off poker if you're skating by on luck. Sure, there's a lot of luck involved, but a player with experience in the game and an intuition about people will always have an advantage over pure luck. If you're an expert bullshitter and enjoy messing with people's heads, you'll go even further.

If you sit at the poker tables long enough, you begin to pick out the professionals and recognize them. A few are followed by fans and have games that are televised. Caleb is one of them. He moves in different circles than I do, but we've been snarled in enough hands together to make the singe of each time I've been burnt by his unbeatable playing style that much more painful.

I poked at my wilted salad. _Why did I order a salad?_ After a day of bad beats and horrible cards, I was ravenous. "Cindy," I called to the waitress. "Can I get a burger and onion rings?"

"You need to be careful," Roy said. "Caleb can mess with a person's head. Next time he gives you a tell, it might not be a tell but a bluff."

* * *

I parked my clunker car in the parking lot of All Celebrities Chapel, where I live in a small apartment on the third floor. Frankie Garza is the owner and celebrity impersonator who presides over the weddings. He lives on the second floor.

The chapel is in an old brick building that Frankie converted. He painted the outside bricks white and stenciled on gold bells that frame a mural of celebrities' caricatures. Softball-size marquee lights surround the mural and flash a rhythm through the night.

Most of the caricatures are unrecognizable. They're mainly blob shapes with a few key features, and they all have large breasts . . . even the men. Frankie said the deformed caricatures were so that celebrities wouldn't sue him by painting their likeness; but I think it's because he gave the job to his no-talent cousin who has a fondness for painting large breasts. Either way, I don't think Elvis will be suing All Celebrities Chapel anytime soon . . . even if he is painted with uneven pork chops and floppy breasts.

As soon as I opened the chapel door, a smile grew on my face. When Frankie named the chapel All Celebrities Chapel, he meant it. He rotates through his usual Vegas stars like Elvis, Dolly Parton, and Frank Sinatra, but he loves to add new entertainers to his lineup. Tonight he was dressed as Kermit the Frog. Lily pads paved the way down the aisle to the altar, where a rainbow made of tissue paper was propped behind him.

"You're very green," I said as I surveyed his bulging froggy eyes.

"I'm a frog. I'm supposed to be green." He turned and posed for me. His flipper feet smacked at the ground. "Do you think everyone will recognize that I'm Kermit?"

"Since I have to introduce you as Kermit, I'm sure they will. You could rent a pig. We could squeeze her into a dress and a blonde wig and name her Miss Piggy. She can keep you company at the altar. Maybe even oink her two cents' worth."

He narrowed his froggy eyes at me. "I could dress _you_ up as Miss Piggy."

I gulped. I wouldn't put it past Frankie to dress me up one step beyond humiliation.

"Uh, I think Kermit is a solo kind of frog. We wouldn't want Miss Piggy wallowing in the same swamp, would we?"

He smirked. "That's what I thought."

I rarely see Frankie out of costume. When he does finally shed his fictitious layers, he's a handsome man. He has a thin trail of Hispanic blood, which gives him his dark eyes and hair. He's a couple inches taller than I am and looks better in a dress than I do.

"Do you have a full night?" I asked.

"No, but you know how it gets later."

I knew all too well. After too many drinks, vacationers who had found love merely minutes before would flock to the chapel to tie the knot. It's on the following day, when the hangover and sobriety had cleared the drunken fog, that they would discover a souvenir marriage certificate and photo, and plastic vending machine rings. Tonight their photo would include Kermit. A smile escaped to my lips.

In exchange for my low rent, I helped Frankie out a couple of nights a week, assisting the happy couples with the paperwork and snapping souvenir photos. Even though I know most of the couples wake the next morning to regret their actions, I get a little jealous. For one night they are the happiest, albeit drunkest, two people in the world. But tonight, I'm pretty sure I can keep my jealousy in check. I don't think I would want my souvenir photo with Kermit. That's like kicking a man when he's down.

I won't be stepping down Kermit's matrimonial aisle anytime soon. My love life is nonexistent. Well, maybe that's not quite true. I did go on a blind date a couple of weeks ago. It was set up through a poker friend, who had told me the guy was funny. He's not funny unless you like an offbeat comedian who thinks slapstick during dinner is the way to win a girl's heart. By the end of the meal, I was wearing my food and the restaurant manager issued a lifetime ban on us from ever returning to the restaurant. It's too bad . . . I loved their chocolate cake. Never trust a poker friend that you'd previously wiped out at the table.

"Frankie, call me when you need me. I'm going upstairs."

"But you haven't told me about the tournament yet."

"I made it through the first day even though I was stuck at a table with Caleb Usher."

Frankie gasped. "You made it through?"

"Yes, but I have a feeling I'll have to play him again," I said.

I had an uneasy feeling that even though it's against regulations for Caleb to request certain tables, he's known for getting what he wants. Right now it seems he wants to toy with me.

Who am I kidding?!

Why would he care about one insignificant poker player? Caleb messing with me was most likely wishful thinking from my lack of earth-shattering sex . . . not that I can say I've ever had earth-shattering sex.

Have I?

Frankie knew about my battles with Caleb. I lost every one. In the poker world, he's my enemy. A very handsome enemy. He has phenomenal talent and luck, which complements his ego. The televised poker tours and high-stakes shows love him because he captures attention and draws people in. Some of the other televised professionals try to use cheap gimmicks and over-emotional rants to gain spotlight time. Caleb is just himself. He is what every aspiring amateur and pro wants to be—cool, confident, and rich. Even I like to watch him play, but I wouldn't admit that to anyone.

I trudged up the back staircase and let myself into my apartment. My cat, Gus, was sprawled on the couch; he's always on the couch. It's one of the few places he can climb. When I adopted him from a shelter a year ago, he was the size of a potbellied pig—and still is. His stubby legs make him a low-rider, and his watermelon belly barely clears the floor. I'd bought a doggie staircase for him to access the couch and another one for my bed.

"Did you miss me?"

Gus didn't raise his head, but he cracked open one of his blue eyes and then shut it. Nice to know I'm loved. I gave him a scratch behind his ear.

His fur was mainly gray with a few patches of darker fur. I'm sure he thinks he's quite the distinguished cat because he acts as if he's in charge.

"What? I don't even get a purr out of you? The vet told me to put you on a diet at the last visit . . . and the visit before that. Don't think I've forgotten you ate my sandwich yesterday."

Gus gave half of a grunt.

"Can't even grunt a full one, huh? I guess I _should_ put you on a diet."

I took a shower and dressed for my shift at the chapel. Frankie had issued me a uniform when I first began working for him: a form-fitting, white faux-leather miniskirt; bustier top; and go-go boots. I've learned to live with it. My pride doesn't get in the way of cheap rent.

There isn't a whole lot of breathing room left once I squeeze myself into it. The nice part is that it creates the illusion of giant boobs. Too bad it's just that—an illusion.

I swiped on some mascara and picked out cherry red for my lips. At least my lips could have a little color. My skin tends to bleach out when I wear white, making me look something like a vampire. On second thought, maybe the cherry red would resemble blood. I blotted off the lipstick, not wanting to scare the customers in their drunken state.

* * *

Frankie was poised and ready for the steady flow of couples. Bernie and Vivian were in the chapel too. They're residents of a retirement home located a couple of blocks away. They come in every night to volunteer as witnesses and to watch some free entertainment. Sometimes they bring their retired neighbors to watch as well. Since it's late at night, we never have a flood of seniors. But I always know when it's been chili night at the retirement home because a handful of seniors, armed with pocketfuls of antacids, join the party. Tonight Bernie and Vivian were dressed in green.

"Welcome to All Celebrities Chapel," I said to the first couple who stumbled in. "Kermit is presiding over the ceremonies tonight."

"We want to get married," said a platinum blonde in her early twenties. She balanced a man against her to support his inebriated weight. His head was slumped over and drool dripped from the side of his mouth.

I scrutinized the man who wasn't focusing well—or even breathing well. "Sir, are you here to get married?" I asked.

"I told you we're here to get married," the blonde clipped.

"I know what you said, but I want to know what he says."

Normally I wouldn't argue with a bride, but the man was hanging on to consciousness by a thread. I didn't think he was going to make it up the aisle. And Frankie hates it when they throw up on his decorations . . . or him.

"Baby pooh, tell her we want to get married."

The man stared at her with a vacant expression.

"Uh, perhaps you and baby pooh should come back when he's coherent," I told the blonde.

"No! I bought him drink after drink so he'd agree to come here. I'm not leaving until we're married."

"Do you have a marriage license, or do you still need one?"

"I have one in my purse."

"Can he at least say, 'I do'?"

She told him to say it, but he didn't. She scolded him to say it, but he wiped the drool on her shirt instead. She grabbed his jaw and moved his lips while she muttered "I do" under her breath.

"Nope, that won't cut it," I said. "You're welcome to stay in the waiting room until he can say the magic words."

The blonde huffed and strong-armed the man to the waiting room.

I'm seriously thinking about writing a guide titled _Dragging Your Drunk Man to Your Las Vegas Wedding_. Number one: Get your man happy drunk, and maybe a little stupid drunk, but not incoherent drunk. I'm sure there's a mathematical equation to determine how much booze it would take.

As I contemplated my book, a couple stumbled in with Lenny trailing behind them. Their bodies swayed like they were on a boat in a bad storm. I grabbed the woman's arm to keep her from falling.

"Can we get . . ." The woman stared at me, lost in her drunken fog.

"Married?" I tried to fill in the blank.

"Oh, yeah. That's it." She smiled as her eyes crossed.

I shrugged. At least she could speak.

Lenny handed me their marriage license. "There aren't too many couples right now." He scratched his mustache. His rounded belly stretched his tuxedo T-shirt to its maximum elastic capabilities. "I'll take the bus for a spin and see who I can round up."

Frankie had hired Lenny to drive customers between the chapel and the marriage bureau to obtain their marriage licenses. He would sometimes pick up stray couples who were inebriated and open to exploring the benefits of marriage. The bureau's late hours allowed the chapel to remain open and hopping with love. Since he's paid on commission, I wondered about his "roundups."

"Only pick up couples who want to get married," I warned.

"The love bus picks up all those who want a ride. Did you see the neon lights I added? The girls are lovin' it!" He smirked and rubbed his hands together like a tubby praying mantis.

The "love bus," as Lenny likes to refer to it, is a retired school bus painted white with a mural of busty celebrities on the side. Lenny has been slowly making modifications to the interior, hoping to lure more paychecks onto the bus and down the aisle.

"I'm heading back to the bureau. I need to get there before those damn fairytale yahoos do." Lenny fluttered his hands like little wings and rolled his eyes. "Oh, look at me! I'm a fairy and will take you to Fairytale Chapel."

"Yes, but their Prince Charming is rather nice to look at. They keep him in those snug tights," I said. "I bet they get business from women following him to the chapel in hopes of marrying him."

Lenny gave a sound of disgruntled disgust and stomped out the door.

Smiling at Lenny's exit, I turned to help the couple.

I filled in the form with their personal information and then had them sign it. The woman signed with enormous loops, laughing as the loops carried off the page and onto the counter. I don't judge signatures; I just go with the flow . . . even if it's loopy.

I showed them to the chapel and switched on "The Rainbow Connection" for them to stroll arm in arm down the aisle to . . . well, almost arm in arm. The woman stumbled and fell, but she hooked her arm around the man's leg and he unknowingly dragged her the rest of the way down the aisle. Oversized lily pads trailed behind her until the couple came to a halt at the altar. Frankie tossed a casual glance down to see if the woman was still conscious. She smiled up at him and giggled but otherwise remained sprawled on the ground to repeat her vows.

I suppressed a snicker when Frankie began the ceremony. "Kermit thee Frog here . . . "

Frankie stayed in character the whole time. He always impresses me with how many celebrities he can impersonate. Occasionally, I wonder: With all his different impersonations day after day, does he sometimes forget who he is?

The man dropped to the floor to kiss the woman as Frankie pronounced them husband and wife. The man only held the kiss for a moment until he toppled over. I switched the music back on, flipped on the bubble machine, and snapped their picture.

The bride and groom were passed out on the ground with a giant Kermit looming over them. Vivian and Bernie clapped for the newly married couple.

Can it get any more romantic?
Chapter 2

I woke with a jolt and severe chest pains. _I can't breathe!_ I tried to suck in air, but all I could do was wheeze. Swinging my arms frantically to free myself, I came in contact with a large ball of fur and saw two angry blue eyes glaring down at me.

"Gus, get the hell off me," I wheezed.

He gave a low grunt as I rolled him off. He never suffocates me unless he has a problem, then he starts throwing his weight around.

I turned on my side to ignore Gus and fall back to sleep. He let out a grunt, waddled over, and plopped his butt on my head.

"Ugh! Get your cat butt off me." I swatted him off. "What Gus? Is it the diet?"

I rolled out of bed with a groan and shuffled to the kitchen to pour a ration for his breakfast. He glowered at me as he scrutinized his dismal portion but then settled down to eat it.

I wanted to slip back into my warm bed. I still had a few hours before I had to return to the tournament. But I should try to arrive a little early to play a few practice rounds. I knew Roy would be there too.

I dressed in shorts and a tank top for the scorching Vegas heat and grabbed a hoodie for the air-conditioned casino. Comfortable clothes were going to be the fashion of the day and the remaining days of the tournament. _If I get past today_. My stomach flip-flopped.

* * *

"I knew you'd be here," I said to Roy when I found him at a Texas Hold'em table.

"You need to sit down and practice."

"Okay, but don't give me advice. You make me crazy with your poker psychology."

"You have to learn the psychology behind poker."

"I know, but I start doubting myself and then second-guessing what the other players are thinking."

"You'll get it," he said with a pat on my back as I settled next to him. "It takes some people a lifetime to learn it and there are others who instinctively know."

"When I'm in the moment, I know. Then I start thinking and it all falls apart."

"Nadia?"

"Yes?" I glimpsed a blonde adult version of Shirley Temple hovering next to me.

She set a drink down. "Greyson Miller wanted me to deliver this and to tell you good luck today. He's in a meeting right now so he can't come in person. Don't worry, it's a virgin. He wanted to make sure you stay sharp."

"Thanks," I said, eyeing the drink suspiciously. "How did he know I'm here?"

"He knows everything. It can be a nuisance sometimes," she replied.

"Thank you," I said and turned back to the table. After a few moments, I still felt her presence. My eyes flicked up to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I disturbing you?"

"A little," I said, trying not to offend her but also needing to concentrate. "Did you need something?"

"I was just wondering if poker is easy?"

"Some days yes and some days no. What's your name?"

"I'm Mya."

"Are you interested in the game?"

"Yes, but my boyfriend told me I should stick to slots."

Roy let a half-cocked smile escape. He's heard me gripe about men who think poker is for men only. He's seen me twist myself into a snit when they throw chauvinistic comments at me. He just shakes his head and gives me the lecture about how seasoned poker players don't allow their emotions to explode to the surface. They keep things buried deep inside and beat the crap out of a punching bag when they go home. Last Christmas he'd bought me a stand-up punching bag. He can't say I've never used it; where else would I hang my clothes?

"When do you have off?" I asked Mya.

"Tomorrow."

"Meet me here at the same time. I'll give you a lesson."

Mya's blue eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Sure."

She thanked me and bounced away. Her blonde ringlets curled and bounced with her. All male eyes followed her direction.

"Remember to mind your emotions," Roy said when he returned his gaze back to the table.

"Don't lecture me, Yoda. I didn't get mad, but I won't sit back and do nothing either."

"So," Roy said, sliding a sideward glance at me, "what's with the drink from Greyson Miller?"

"I, uh, met him a few days ago in the lounge. He was meeting with someone."

"How did you meet him if he was in a meeting?"

I kept quiet and tinkered with the few chips in front of me.

"Nadia, what did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that crap. You did something, and it was probably highly embarrassing."

"I might have spilled a drink, but it wasn't my fault."

"Mmm-hmm. How was it not your fault?" His mouth twitched, suppressing the smile I never fail to produce.

"There was a guy talking trash; my drink might have slipped."

"Greyson Miller was talking trash? I don't believe you. And that's a waste of alcohol."

"I didn't say Greyson Miller was talking trash. My drink slipped the wrong way and missed the jerk. Greyson caught the full brunt of it. I didn't even know his name until employees zoomed in to help clean."

Roy peeled with laughter. "I don't know how anyone could be as accident prone as you are."

"I'm not." It's only in rare and potentially extremely embarrassing situations that I'm accident-prone.

"You spilled a drink on the casino CEO."

A flash of nausea surged through me. "The CEO?"

Roy held his gut while he chuckled. "You didn't know?"

I shook my head. "I'm surprised they didn't kick me out."

"He's the CEO of Rotunda Casinos Empire. He could buy half of Vegas with his money. He's been on the covers of _Forbes_ , _Time_ , and _Money_. I heard he's the best in the business and a ball buster if you have to tangle with him."

I winced. "I flicked off the ice cubes from his hair and suit."

Roy clutched his side. "Oh, ow! It hurts to laugh." But he didn't stop.

* * *

I took my seat at the tournament table. There were two empty seats and I prayed for them to be filled by strangers, putting Caleb at another table. My nerves were shot after learning who I'd spilled my drink on. I never fail to give Roy a jolly laugh at my expense.

I had heard of Greyson Miller, but I never connected he was the head of Rotunda, which operated Lost City Casino plus a dozen more casinos spread throughout Nevada. From what Roy had told me, Greyson Miller was known as a hard businessman, and though he was only thirty-five, his accomplishments were the talk of many in the business.

The Lost City Casino, by far, was my favorite in Vegas. It had been designed to resemble an underwater lost ruin. I loved the feel of it as I walked in. Watching the colorful fish darting around in the glass walls and ceilings was a treasure in itself. Archeological artifacts were sprinkled throughout the casino landscape. Toppled pillars cascaded to create a sweeping staircase.

But I might never come back after learning who I'd spilled my drink on.

"You're thinking about something unpleasant."

I looked up to find Caleb. He slid out the chair next to me and settled into it. His T-shirt clung snuggly around his solid chest and arms. His well-worn jeans hugged every essential part. I groaned. How can I keep my head in the game and sit next to him? Not only was he my enemy at the table, he was also sexy as hell.

His wavy brown hair always appeared as if it needed to be cut. It's in a constant state of looking gently windblown with sun-bleached caramel highlights. If he was plopped onto a beach, he could pass as a surfer. I heated as I surveyed his tan skin and firm arms. His thigh rubbed against mine as he made himself comfortable.

_Damn him!_ How can I concentrate on winning when he's so close to me?

"Why are we at the same table again?" I asked. "They normally mix it up."

Caleb shrugged.

"Are you trying to mess with my head?"

"I don't have to. You do it to yourself."

"Don't worry. As soon as the cards are on the table, I'll be back to normal."

"I'm not worried. I'll knock you out of the game eventually." Caleb sat back, studying me. His eyes darkened, but his face remained impassive. "Maybe not until the final table."

It would take a miracle for me to reach the final table. There were twelve hundred people who entered the tournament and a little over eight hundred remained.

"Breathe," he instructed. "You look like you're going to hyperventilate. I don't know how you made it this far."

I scowled as I scanned the room to find the tournament director. Maybe if I sweet-talked the director he'd move me to a different table.

"Don't bother," Caleb said, reading my mind. "The tables are already full. You're stuck with me."

"Go sit in the chair on the other side of the table."

"Do I make you nervous?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I want to sit next to you."

"I'm going to sit here. Otherwise, I'll have to stare at you for the rest of the game."

I bristled. "Would you rather stare at the man with the top hat and pork-chop sideburns?"

Caleb observed the man across the table and smiled. "Not really. But it's better than looking at your green eyes."

"Do you have a problem with green eyes or just my green eyes?"

"Just yours."

I glared at him and hunkered down as the dealer took his seat. My heart lodged in my throat while the first hand was dealt. The dealer flicked me two cards. I held my breath as I peeked at them: a pair of kings. I remained calm and unaffected, but internally I was jumping on the table dancing a jig. Pocket kings were hopefully going to push me through my short-stack dilemma.

I shoved my stack in. "All-in."

Everyone folded except for a man across from me. He had his hood drawn close around his face and a pair of hologram sunglasses with snake eyes. He called my bet, and we laid our cards face up on the table. He had an ace and ten of clubs, which could lead to a straight, flush, a straight flush, or just a pair of aces. I've been beat with these cards in the past, but I was still hopeful my kings would win. They had to win!

I held my breath as the dealer laid the first three cards, known as the flop, on the table. The first two cards didn't help either of us, but the third card was the jack of clubs and helped the hooded man. The dealer turned the next card. My breath hitched. It was a queen of clubs. The hooded man was on his way to making a straight. I could hear pounding and realized it was my heart beating in my ears.

"Breathe," Caleb whispered.

If a club, king, or ace appeared, then I was finished. My tournament would be lost and ten thousand dollars of my money would be gone. I knew gambling was about winning some and losing some . . . hopefully winning more than you lose. The ten thousand was my whole savings. Roy told me it was risky to gamble my savings, but I didn't want another year to roll by without taking a chance at the million-dollar prize.

As the dealer flipped over the last card, I held my breath. I peered down at the card . . . a two of hearts. _Oh, thank God!_ I won the round and doubled my stack.

"Good one," Caleb said.

The rest of the day turned out rather well. I regained my composure and a healthy chip stack. There were a couple times when I had to force my head back into the game. The first time was when a camera crew filmed a segment on Caleb. I ended up caught in a hand with him. He, of course, won the hand. Thankfully, he didn't win too many chips from me.

The second time was when he tried to stretch his legs and accidentally bumped me. His hand reached out to touch my leg to apologize but was slow to remove it. The heat from his touch on my skin zinged to my stomach. I shook it off, winning my first hand from him. Unfortunately, that hand wasn't televised.

* * *

I gathered my belongings for the day. The second day of the tournament was over, and I still had chips.

"You're not a bad player considering you're a girl," Caleb said.

My eye twitched, and my fingers curled into my purse.

He laughed. "Nadia, you need to relax. I was just joking around. You should go out and have fun. You're too high-strung."

"I'm high-strung because I have to sit at the table with a bunch of men who have egos the size of Jupiter."

His eyes crinkled mischievously. He was about to say something when a woman strode over to our table and stood next to him. She was wearing a fitted black skirt suit with a white blouse that was skintight and unbuttoned to show off the top edge of her black, lacey bra. She gazed down at Caleb and brushed her long, dark hair to the side.

"Caleb, we need to go over your schedule."

Caleb sighed. "I'm busy. Let's do it later."

Her eyes drifted from Caleb and focused on me. "She's not your type."

"It's not about her. I just don't want to worry about schedules right now. You're my manager; you deal with it."

She ignored him and surveyed the room. "Where's Brianna?"

"Who?" Caleb asked.

"The redhead from yesterday. I told her to be here for the tournament and the photo shoot tonight."

"I don't know, and I don't care."

"I thought she was your girlfriend," I said more to myself than Caleb.

"No, she's an actress or model my manager hired. Jessica seems to think I'll receive more publicity by keeping a different girl at my side every other day. I get them confused, and I never remember their names. Half of the time I can't remember if the girl is a model or a real date."

Jessica slanted her eyes at Caleb. "It's a man's game. Men like to keep informed about their favorite player. You're the favorite, so you need to cater to a man's fantasy. The average man who watches televised poker is a married man who doesn't have the dream bachelor lifestyle and a gorgeous woman at his side. He gets his kicks out of watching you and places himself in your shoes."

"Geesh," I said. "I didn't know Caleb was so crucial to the average male."

Caleb chuckled. "Don't take Jessica seriously."

Jessica tapped her foot impatiently. "I'll call the modeling agency and see if I can find a backup girl."

"I'll take Nadia."

"Who?" Jessica asked.

Caleb pointed to me. "Nadia."

Jessica performed a full-body scan with her cutting eyes. "No, she won't work."

"She's fine."

"Excuse me!" I butted in. "First of all, I'm better than fine. Secondly, I already have plans."

"You see?" Jessica said. "She already has plans."

"It pays one thousand dollars," Caleb said.

My mouth dropped open. "Uh, I can't. I have to work."

"How much do you get paid?"

"None of your business."

* * *

I opened the door to the chapel and spotted James Dean waving frantically at me.

"Frankie, are you okay?"

"No, we have some serious work to do."

"What's wrong? I don't start for a few hours. Is there an early wedding booked?"

"No, we have to get you ready."

"You're losing me, Frankie."

I sighed; this was a normal occurrence. Like a child who had too much sugar and was running around with a lampshade on his head, Frankie was the same with schemes. I could never catch up with him or settle him down. _Maybe a time-out?_

Frankie took a deep breath, but it didn't keep his mouth from racing. "Caleb called and asked if you could have tonight off for a photo shoot. It's supposed to be huge! He's sending over the dress the original model was going to wear, so I'm sure we'll have to do alterations." He was forming a list and pacing feverishly. "We have to do something with your hair and makeup. I think we'll have to exfoliate too. You're looking dreadful from holing up in the casino all day. We're going to be super busy transforming you. He'll pick you up at eight, so we have to hustle. Go take a shower and come back here. And listen, missy, you'd better wear some sexy undies. I don't want to transform you into a queen when you're wearing pauper panties."

My mouth hung open.

"Why aren't you moving?" he asked.

"Because I'm in shock, and I'm not going. I'm not a dog; he can't just summon or tell me what to do."

"Oh, nuh-uh! Don't get all feministic on me. Let me remind you, you are a professional poker player. Therefore, you need publicity just like Caleb. He can help you. By standing next to him you'll become a name and not just a player. Plus, as of now, I'm your manager. You'll need to get with the program . . . my program."

"That's ridiculous! I've never had a manager, and I don't need one."

Frankie sucked in a lungful of air and huffed it back out with a dramatic sigh.

"I'm happy the way things are," I said. "I don't need to be in the public eye to play poker."

"You're happy?" he asked, flinging his arms up in the air with frustration. "You're not happy! You have a mediocre stream of cash coming in from working the tables all day and night. Then you come home to a cat that has serious anger-management issues. The highlight of your day is when you help me in the chapel. When was the last time you dressed up and felt like a sexy woman?"

"Gus is just lazy."

"Really? That's what you took from the conversation?" Frankie twitched like a diva that had reached her credit card limit and still needed shoes. "You better run your tush upstairs and take a shower before I go Godzilla on your ass."

I turned and sulked to my apartment. I knew I was beat. Frankie is a great guy, but when an idea imbeds into his brain, it's better for all involved to buckle up for the roller-coaster ride.

I showered and thought of all the ways I could kill Caleb. I imagined trying to strangle him, but my mind drifted to when he touched my leg. My skin erupted with full-body tingles. I guess killing Caleb would be out of the question . . . too much physical contact. I quickly turned the shower knob to cold and hopped out when it reached freezing.

I rummaged through my underwear drawer until I found my secret purchase. I'd bought a panty and bra set months ago but never had the courage to remove the tags, let alone wear it. Not to mention, I work the tables all day and night in jeans and a T-shirt. It's not the most glamorous lifestyle.

I held out a black lacy push-up bra and matching panties. I took a deep breath and wiggled into them. I threw on a robe and ran downstairs.

"It's about time," Frankie said when I peeked into the chapel. "There aren't any couples right now, so we need to move fast. I brought Dani in for help."

Dani worked at the chapel five nights a week, and I worked her nights off. She's in her early twenties and loves to chew and snap her bubblegum like she's in grade school. She wears her electric-blue hair short, and all of her piercings are silver.

"Sorry, Dani," I called to the front foyer. I heard her greeting gum snap.

"A pushy woman named Jessica dropped off the dress," Frankie said. "It's gorgeous. I hope you've been working out. This dress won't look great on just anyone."

"You're freaking me out," I said, eyeing the garment bag.

"Don't worry. I'll have you looking fabulous. Dani," he called to the front, "let the magic begin."

* * *

By the time they were finished, I had aches and pains all over my body. They pulled, poked, waxed, buffed, slathered, yanked, taped, painted, and invaded all personal space I like to keep guarded.

"You need to keep this style maintained," Frankie said. "You're going to be in the public eye more now that I'm your manager."

I rolled my eyes and caught my reflection in the mirror.

"The dress really works for you," Dani said, snapping her gum.

The gown was black with silver streaks that grew wider at the bottom of the long, flowing skirt. A slit ran up the dress, stopping precariously high on the front of my thigh. The body of the dress was tightly fitted and had wide straps. The v-neck plunged deeper than I felt comfortable with. My push-up bra had been rendered useless by the low neckline. I slipped my feet into strappy silver heels.

Caleb opened the door to the chapel. He was wearing a black suit cut in the latest style seen on Hollywood's red carpet. It fit his angles perfectly. The top button of his white dress shirt was undone. Between the quality fabric and the breathtaking cut, I was sure it was a designer label made especially for him. His hair, still tousled and windblown, radiated sexiness.

"Omigod! He's here!" Frankie squealed.

Dani's eyes flashed at Frankie; the two of them raced toward Caleb. Frankie won by giving Dani a hip bump onto the foyer couch.

Frankie came to a full halt in front of Caleb. "I'm you're biggest fan," Frankie gushed, giving Caleb a vigorous handshake.

"Thank you. Is Nadia ready?"

"Yes, but watch out," Frankie warned. "She may look drop-dead gorgeous, thanks to me, but she's as angry as a rattlesnake taunted by a wild dog."

"Am I the wild dog in this scenario?" Caleb asked.

"You're a bad, bad dog." Frankie winked. "Don't worry. I'll contact Jessica to schedule more events. I'm Nadia's manager now."

I shook my head as I listened to Frankie.

"Nadia, let's go," Frankie called to me. You don't want to be late." I took a deep breath and walked out as gracefully as I could considering I've never worn four-inch heels.

Caleb slowly took me in. "Shit."

Chapter 3

I glared at Caleb even though it took serious effort. He was delicious enough to lay out in a display case. "You have a lot of nerve coming in here after the torture I endured, and then you say 'shit'? Frankie already gave me hell for not wanting to go."

"You better retreat slowly," Frankie said to Caleb under his breath. "Don't look into her eyes."

Caleb ignored Frankie's caution and closed the distance between us with his soft eyes. Each step was one step closer to unraveling my anger. He stopped when he was so close his energy engulfed me.

"You're stunning," he said as his fingers reached to take mine. "I was trying to teach Jessica a lesson. I wanted to show her I could bring a real woman into public without the world falling apart. I didn't realize you could go from being pretty to a knockout. You could pass for one of those ditsy hired models. It throws a wrench into my plan." He scanned to my cleavage and a smile curled on his lips. "I guess I still win either way."

I shot him a warning look to cover that he was disarming me with every word and movement. "Let's get this over with."

He led me to his Porsche 911 parked by the front door. It irked me to know he could afford such an expensive vehicle. What made him so great that he owned a Porsche while I drove a clunker? I held onto the irritated feeling, hoping it would carry me through the night. Hopefully I wouldn't throw myself at Caleb the way every other woman does.

He tucked me into the car and angled himself into the driver's seat.

"We don't have to go," Caleb said. "We could go out and have fun."

"I didn't get all dressed up and have Frankie give me the riot act just to go have fun. Even though I've been forced into it, it's still business. Frankie appointed himself as my manager. Do you know what life is going to be like with Frankie as a manager?"

Caleb shook his head. "No, but I know what it's like to have Jessica as a manager."

"It's going to be a nightmare. Not to mention, I don't need a manager. It's ridiculous! This is your fault."

"Did you let it all out? Are we good now?"

I leaned back in the seat and let out a slow breath. "For now."

"Good, because I was afraid your head was ready to spin."

"Just because a woman gets mad doesn't mean she's crazy. I have every right to be mad. You didn't even ask me. I was informed I had to go. Don't start thinking I'm the crazy one!"

Caleb sighed. He was probably thinking the hired model would have been easier to deal with than me.

"Can I call a truce? I'm sorry for not asking you," he said. "I haven't had to ask any one for anything in a while. Jessica takes care of me and tends to go overboard. I should have told her to stop a long time ago."

"Fine. Truce."

The strip was alive with lights by the millions and vacationers swarming the walkways. Normally, I don't drive the strip at night. Mainly because I don't have a social life. This was kind of enjoyable, sitting back and watching the sights.

"So, what's the plan tonight?" I asked.

"There's a charity tournament being held in a few months. Tonight is a social mixer of sorts. The media is invited in hopes of raising awareness. We'll have to take a few photos and there will be a Q and A later. I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

"Do you have to do this a lot?"

"Some years more than others. This year seems to be particularly busy. It can be a real pain in the ass. When I first turned professional, I could come and go as I pleased. Now, I'm on a schedule, and my time is rarely my own. I don't mind the charity events. Those can be fun because no one cares if you win or lose; it's just about the cause."

"What's the cause this time?"

"Autism." He paused for a moment. "My cousin is autistic, so this event means a little bit more to me. It's not just about raising money; it's about awareness too. That's why I wanted you here. I don't feel like dealing with a model who doesn't care about the event. They always want to make sure they're in all the shots, and they're always checking their makeup."

I'm scum. I'm a heel that stepped in dog poop.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize this meant something to you. I wouldn't have thrown such a fit had I known."

"Don't be sorry. I wanted you here because you're a pain in the ass. I figured if you can keep me on my toes at the table, you might be able to keep me alive during the mixer. I hate schmoozing alone."

"It's true. I did win a hand off you today."

"It won't happen again." He glanced down at my leg exposed by the slit. "My head was temporarily out of the game."

Caleb pulled in front of Lost City Casino. A valet jogged to the car and opened the door for me. I turned to find myself on a red carpet leading into the casino. I froze. Caleb arrived by my side and rested his hand lightly on the small of my back.

"Why is there a red carpet?" I asked with a squeak.

"The media is here."

"They don't normally make such a fuss, do they?"

"The tournament will pin celebrities against professional poker players. There's more media here because the event directors have wrangled a few celebrities to make an appearance." Caleb observed me. "Your face is white. Are you okay?"

Poker face! Think poker face. Calm. Cool. Breathe. I steeled myself and smiled at Caleb. "Let's play."

He chuckled and escorted me down the red carpet.

Flashes from the cameras blinded me. I leaned in closer to Caleb, smiling my best even though I was becoming disorientated. Questions were being shouted from beyond the lights. I couldn't hear. Everything blended together in a sea of voices. White spots were beginning to form and ping pong in my eyes. Caleb answered questions as I numbly stood next to him. He finally finished and put his arm around my waist, leading me into a large gathering off the carpet.

"It takes a few times to become used to it," he explained.

I nodded, which made the spots in my eyes bounce up and down.

Jessica burst through the crowd. "It's about time you arrived. It's time for your Q and A."

"We just got here. Can't it wait a few minutes?" Caleb asked.

"I'll stall for fifteen minutes but not a minute more."

"Deal," Caleb said. "Do you remember Nadia?"

"Uh, are you the new model?" she asked confused. "I thought you were going to bring the girl poker player. I have to say I'm happy you chose to listen and go with the model. We need to keep your image intact."

I gritted my teeth.

Caleb ran his finger playfully down my back, making me jump in surprise. "Nadia is the girl from the table. She's the poker player."

Jessica eyes widened, giving me a second glance. "Go mingle."

My eyes followed her as she stalked off.

"She likes you," Caleb said.

"I'd hate to think what she'd be like if she didn't like me."

We weaved through the party. Champagne flutes were pressed into our hands.

"Oh, it's the guy from that show." I racked my brain to figure out what show it was. "Is it 'Everybody Loves Raymond'? He's in another show now, right?"

"Yes, he's an accomplished poker player. Be careful if you're tabled with him."

"What do you mean? I'm not playing in the tournament, you are."

"You're playing. I had Jessica sign you up."

"But the tournament is by invitation only. You can't just sign someone up."

"Jessica made it happen."

"Did you ever think you should ask me first?"

"Why? It's a chance to get televised, and you'll be great. We need more women in poker. Playing against women is a challenge. I understand men's psychology, but women can make my head work overtime."

I doubted that. From what I'd seen, he had women figured out and mastered.

"What if I have plans?"

"Do you?"

"No, but that's not the point." I sighed. "I give up. I don't want to fight."

"Too bad. I was enjoying it."

An unintentional smile slipped onto my lips, and I had a difficult time removing it.

"Caleb," a man called from the crowd. I couldn't see who it was until the crowd shifted, and then I spotted him.

Greyson Miller eased his way over to us. He was cologne-model handsome in his Armani suit and Italian shoes. His dark hair was perfectly cut to bring out his handsome facial features. He was seductively gorgeous and had a predatory edge in his steel-gray eyes.

A shorter, blond man stood behind Greyson. Dressed professionally in a suit, he was generally a good-looking man also, but he couldn't possibly outshine Greyson. It was difficult to focus on him with Greyson nearby.

A woman stood farther back, nearly out of their circle. She was mid-thirties and pretty, but the gobs of makeup plastered on her face made her less attractive. Her hair was bleach blonde with frizzy ends but neatly groomed.

"I'm glad you made it," Greyson said, shaking Caleb's hand. "Let me introduce you to Jason Biggs. He's the assistant director of operations here. And this is my executive assistant, Steffi Marshall."

They all shook hands and talked while I watched from the background. I sighed. I was to play the ditsy model, so I guess this was my punishment. I didn't want to talk to Greyson Miller anyway. He was amazingly successful and drop-to-your-knees-and-kiss-his-feet handsome. Way out of my league . . . and comfort level. Plus, I was here on assignment with Caleb.

Greyson turned to me, catching me off guard. He gave me an appreciative glance that instantly made me forgive Frankie for manhandling me earlier.

"I don't think we've been introduced," Greyson said.

"This is Nadia Wolf," Caleb said. "She's one of the poker players in the tournament."

Recognition registered in Greyson's eyes. I weakened under his gaze. There was something in his gray eyes that made me drink in every word he said.

"It's wonderful to see you again—but not with a drink in your hands."

Caleb blinked in confusion.

"I'm sorry about that." My palms clammed with sweat, threatening to dislodge the champagne flute. "I didn't mean to spill my drink on you."

"I know." He smiled. A tribal drum beat a rhythm through my core. "You explained and apologized profusely before, but it's fun to tease. Actually, it sealed the deal with my new Japanese partner. He thought it was hysterical. He said that anyone who keeps calm while they're dripping with sangria is a real businessman. He signed the papers immediately. Granted, they were a little wet, but it's still legal. I actually owe you for aiding me. He was going to be a hard sell." Greyson eyed me. "What do you want? A new car? Name it; it's yours."

"Uh . . ."

_Anything I wanted?_ The world was offered up to me, and the only thing I could think of was Greyson under the sheets with me. I shook the image out of my head. I couldn't ask him for that, but I had been pondering reserving a private table to use for teaching Mya. Many poker players don't appreciate having a novice at the table. They tend to slow down the game and make donkey moves.

"I'm serious. Take me up on my offer," he urged.

"Normally I wouldn't want anything. I don't like to cash in on my own clumsiness, but I do have a favor."

"Anything," he said.

As my gaze fixed on his eyes, I wanted to believe there was an underlying meaning.

"Can I request a private table with a dealer tomorrow? I'll need it for an hour."

"I offer you any present in the world and you choose a table for an hour?"

"Yes."

Caleb smiled with amusement.

Greyson's eyes softened. His lips formed a smile, driving my hormones into a swirling tornado. I needed to run far away. With a single look from his eyes, I had the impression he could make me do unspeakable things. And I bet it would be great.

With one brief glance to Steffi, she nodded and made a note in the tablet she was carrying. Greyson drew a business card from his breast pocket and handed it to me. "Steffi will make arrangements. Give her a call tomorrow when she has the calendar in front of her. Is this for Mya?"

"Yes, how did you know?" Mya did say Greyson knew everything. Surely he couldn't read my mind.

"Mya helps with my private parties. She talks my ear off nonstop when she's setting up the room for the guests. She told me you offered to teach her poker. That's quite nice and ambitious of you. Do you know what you're getting into?"

"I'm hoping for the best, but I'll be okay with so-so."

"Are you still in the tournament?"

"Yeah," Caleb said, "I can't seem to knock her out."

"Why would you want to?" Greyson smiled. "I need to mingle. It was lovely seeing you both." He took my hand briefly in his. I withdrew immediately. No sense in stoking the bonfire already frying my toes off just being near him.

I didn't see him again for the rest of the party. Caleb and I were able to finish the night with no drinks spilled.

* * *

Caleb parked his Porsche in front of the chapel.

"Are you going to invite me in?" Caleb asked. His mouth turned to a smirk.

"No."

"I'm disappointed," he said with a wink.

"You'll survive."

"Did you at least have a good time?"

"Yes, it wasn't as horrible as I thought it'd be."

"Do I get a kiss?"

"You'll get a kiss when I beat the pants off you at the table tomorrow. I have to warn you, it'll be a pity kiss."

"And what if I beat you?"

"Nothing happens. The odds are you'll win. You're the house favorite."

"Where's your gambler's spirit? Are you afraid?"

I eyed him. I'm a sucker for side bets, and he was taunting me with one. "What's the wager?"

"If you place further in the tournament than I do, I'll give you my winnings from the tournament. If I place further, you'll spend the weekend with me."

My stomach dropped to my feet. "What if you're knocked out before you qualify for a payout?" I can't believe I just asked him that. I can't consider a bet like this. What's the purpose of obtaining more information about a bet I can't take?

"Has that ever been a problem?"

No, I don't think he's ever left a tournament with empty pockets.

He wrapped his finger around my hair waiting for my answer. The heat of his touch surged through my hair and up to my head. I broke out in goose bumps all over. A weekend with Caleb or jackpot winnings . . . _holy moly!_

"Well?" he asked.

I needed to stall. "Before I answer, can you give me a hand tomorrow?"

"With what?"

"I need an extra player for Mya."

"Sure, it could be fun. Can I ask why you're teaching her?"

"No, don't ask. Let's just say it was a moment of weakness."

I opened the car door to escape. Caleb grabbed my hand before I could dash off.

"You didn't answer me about the wager."

"Tomorrow."

Chapter 4

I woke up with the sun. Gus and I usually enjoy sleeping when the sun peeks through my window, but not today. This is the third day of the tournament. If I'm lucky, I'll make it to the fourth and final day. This could take me to the final table and hefty cash payouts.

My mind raced with ideas of what I could do with the money. I could buy a car that runs on a daily basis. I could live far away from Frankie—and his schemes of being my manager—in a condo with an expansive floor plan. A vacation would be sensational and overdue too.

"Stop dreaming," I said, rolling out of bed.

There was a knock on my door . . . Frankie. It's sad when a girl's life is filled with poker, Gus, and Frankie. Fortunately for me, I'm not seeking more right now.

I opened the door for Frankie and let him in. "What's going on?" I asked. "Normally you just walk in."

"I didn't know if Caleb might still be around. You're due to get lucky one of these years."

"Very funny," I muttered. "I'm not due to get lucky, but thank you for keeping track of my 'lucky calendar.' I'm especially not getting lucky with Caleb."

"Chicken."

"I'm not chicken. He's just not the guy for me."

Frankie raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

"I'm not saying he's not unbelievably sexy or anything. But I don't like competing for a guy's attention."

"No, you'd rather stick your nose in playing cards and hide behind your stacks of chips."

"I've never had enough chips to hide behind."

Frankie shook his head. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Sure, as long as you give it a rest about me sleeping with Caleb."

"I don't have to give it a rest. Your lack of libido gives it all the rest in the world. I bet your libido is more sluggish than Gus's."

"This is not how to get a favor from me. My libido is fine. I just need to find the right guy for it."

"Caleb is not only the right guy, but the ultimate guy."

"Maybe I don't want the ultimate guy. Maybe I just want cute and reliable."

"You wouldn't say that after Caleb gave you a screaming orgasm."

"See, now you're just dreaming. How would you know if Caleb is good in bed?"

"I can sense these things."

I groaned. "Frankie, what's the favor you want?"

"I need you to stop at the store for me and pick up an outfit like in _Rocky Horror Picture Show_."

"Are you serious? That's like boudoir gone creepy."

"Of course I am. Don't be thinking this was my idea. I mean, I love the idea, but it was actually a request from a couple that reserved a ceremony time. I think they're coming in character too."

"Which character do you need me to buy?"

"The main drag dude."

I arched my eyebrow but nodded. "I'll take a trip to the mall before I head to the casino."

"No, you need to go to the Naughty Shack."

"Frankie, I'll die of embarrassment if I go to the Naughty Shack."

"It's the only place that will have everything I need and in my size."

"You owe me for this," I huffed. "What size should I buy?"

Frankie peeked around at my empty apartment before he whispered his size in my ear.

* * *

I left the Naughty Shack with Frankie's purchase. I was embarrassed to pick it out let alone have the cashier ring it up. I left with a bag filled with a corset, undies, and thigh-high stockings with a garter belt. I even bought him a boa and heels to match, but I suspected he already had these things in his closet.

I peeked at my watch. I had to hurry to the casino to meet Mya for our first poker lesson. I really didn't know if I could teach her anything, but she seemed sweet. If I could teach her to play well enough to beat her arrogant boyfriend then it would be worth it.

I jumped in my car and turned the key. The car groaned.

"No! Baby, please don't die on me." I gave the dashboard a caress. _Please be okay_. I closed my eyes and turned the key again.

Groan, sput, clunk, clonk.

"Stupid car!" I smacked the dash. The car gave a final sputter as it shook and died.

I dug my cell phone out of my purse. Without a car there was no way I could make it to the casino in time. I'll call Mya and . . . no, I won't call Mya because I don't have her phone number. Maybe Steffi could relay a message to Mya. Greyson's business card was in my purse's secret pocket. I didn't stash it there because I thought I would need to call again. I hid it there so I didn't have to see it or think about it. I wanted to deter the remembrance of Greyson's touch from befuddling my mind. Since we met I hadn't been able to get him out of my thoughts.

Steffi answered the phone in a very professional manner, yet I could detect a little Vegas attitude behind it.

"Steffi, it's Nadia Wolf. I hate to bother you, but can you give Mya a message?"

"Oh, sure, hon. What can I do for you?"

"I'm supposed to meet her at the private table you reserved for us, but my car died. Can you tell her I'll be late?"

"How are you going to get here? Do you have a ride?"

"Uh, I haven't thought that far ahead. I'll probably just call a taxi and have a tow truck pick up my car."

"Where are you? I'll have Remy pick you up."

"I'm at a store, but you don't need to go to all the trouble."

"It's no trouble. Remy will be there in ten minutes."

"Who's Remy?"

"Mr. Miller's driver."

"Oh, no. I couldn't."

"Too late. I've already sent him the instructions to get on the road. Mr. Miller is in a meeting and won't be able to use Remy until this afternoon. Believe me, it's better for everyone involved to keep Remy active."

I didn't know what she meant and was afraid to ask.

"Nadia, where can he pick you up?"

My stomach churned. "The Naughty Shack," I whispered.

"I couldn't hear you. Where are you?"

I took a breath. "The Naughty Shack."

Steffi coughed and cleared her throat. "I'll text Remy the information."

I waited as far away from the Naughty Shack as I could, clutching the bag close. I didn't want to leave it in the car. For such small items they cost a fortune.

A black limousine pulled to the curb in front of me. A tall, muscular man with olive skin, a shaved head, and dark, brooding features stepped out of the limo and stood in front of me within a few strides.

My eyes widened as he towered over me. I involuntarily squeaked.

Everything about the man was muscular and edged with hard lines. His biceps stretched his white button-down shirt, threatening to shred if he flexed once. His neck tie was loose enough to notice his top button was undone since it was too snug to button around his thick neck.

He was handsome in his own way. Not classically handsome. Secret-operative-on-steroids handsome. He gave off the instant vibe that he was his own island; someone who preferred to be strong, independent, and alone . . . with shore leave every now and again.

"You're Nadia?"

"Yes. You must be Remy."

He gave a tight nod. "I'll take your bag for you."

I would have argued with anyone else. I didn't want Frankie's purchase to fall into prying eyes—especially since they would assume it was my outfit. Remy didn't seem like he would take no for an answer, and I didn't want to test him. I quickly handed him the bag as he opened the back door for me. Once I was settled, he closed the door and stowed my bag in the trunk.

As Remy drove away from the curb, I shifted to the seat in front so I could position myself closer to the closed privacy window. Normally, Remy was the type of man I was too chicken to talk to. He was the type of man most people were too chicken to talk to. However, he must know a lot about Greyson, and I was ten steps beyond curious. I knocked on the window. The window rolled down, and two eyes narrowed on me through the rearview mirror.

"Need something?"

"I've never ridden in a limo. It's kind of lonely back here," I said.

I wasn't truly lonely, nor did I care if I sat in the back all by myself. Greyson's presence filled the confined space like a seductive dream calling me to make a fool of myself once again.

"Most people like being left alone," he said, as if it was an unquestionable fact.

"I guess that's okay if you're used to it, but I'd rather not ride in a black box. It feels like I'm going to my own funeral."

"I'm on duty today, so no one's going to a funeral unless they attack this car. Plus, it's got the flashy lights and a bar back there."

"So, you're a bodyguard, too?"

He nodded. "You can't be too careful. I drive Mr. Miller around too. He's had several threats."

"Really? Why would anyone threaten him?"

"There are many reasons. You can't be in a powerful position and have more money than you know what to do with without making a few enemies along the way. He's a good guy and a bad-ass businessman. Sometimes the two can blur together." He inspected me in his mirror. "I haven't seen you before. Are you _new_ in his life?"

"Is that like asking if I'm his latest conquest?" I asked as my stomach withered from the thought of Greyson's other possible conquests. "No, I'm not _new_ in his life, but I did just meet him. It was very embarrassing, so I don't want to go into details. He was nice enough to reserve a private poker table for Mya and me. That's why I'm heading to the casino."

"Oh, man! That was you?" He eyed me in the mirror. "You're the girl who spilled the drink on Mr. Miller? I had to drive that Japanese dude to the airport. He told me all about it between his fits of laughter. Are you sure Mr. Miller is helping you and not trying to get some kind of payback?"

"Would he do that?"

"Probably not to you. But, like I said, he has enemies."

* * *

"Nadia," Mya called. She waved her hand enthusiastically so I could find her in the crowd.

I made my way over to her. She hopped up and down like a small child anxious for her birthday presents.

"This is going to be so much fun. I can't wait to learn everything. I'm going to be so good, I can feel it. I think I was meant to play poker instead of serving drinks."

"Let's not jump ahead of ourselves. From what Greyson told me, you're a good server."

"He's sweet but very focused. He normally doesn't like people talking to him while he's trying to work, but he always lets me ramble on and on. I think that's because I'm his sister-in-law. His brother and I are married, but he disappeared one day. That was two years ago. I only started dating a few months ago. I'm not sure if I'm still considered technically married or not."

I opened my mouth to speak, but she continued.

"Greyson tried to take care of me the best he could. I could have asked for as much money as I wanted, and Greyson would have gladly given it to me. I know I need to be on my own and make my own way. Greyson understood and hired me. I know he still keeps his eyes on me. He always schedules me for his fancy private parties even though I'm not his best server. He's a wonderful guy. Should we play at this table?"

My head swam with information overload. I don't think Mya had breathed once. I'm sure if she continued we would have to race her to the hospital for oxygen deprivation.

"No, I booked a private table."

We followed the casino wall. It took ten minutes of struggling through swarms of tourists, tables, and noisy slot machines with flashing lights before we finally made it.

Roy and Caleb were deep in conversation but smiled when we arrived. Gloria, Roy's fifth and current wife, was checking her makeup in her compact mirror. She's about five years older than me and has a body that could stop a guy in his tracks. I never figured out why she married Roy since he doesn't have a lot of money and he's twenty-five years older than her. They seem to get along well, so there must be something in the relationship. I like her. I'm hoping she sticks around longer than the last one did. She has a spunky personality that matches her imitation Gucci bag and five-inch, leopard-print heels.

"Come sit down by me, sugar," Gloria said to Mya. "You don't want to sit too close to the others. They're like piranhas. They'll feed off the weak if you're within biting distance."

"I don't bite," I said as I placed myself between Caleb and Roy.

Caleb leaned over to me and whispered, "That's too bad."

I rolled my eyes. "Can we get started?"

The dealer took his seat. I swiped chips from Caleb's stack and gave them to Mya. He would win them back eventually anyway.

An amused expression surfaced on his face. "You're stealing my chips like a wife would. I better be careful; people might think I'm settling down."

"No one would think that," I said. "How many girls have you been seen with this month alone?"

He smirked.

Gloria explained the rules of the game to Mya and gave her a cheat sheet to play by. I should ask Gloria for a copy . . . it might help my game.

We played a few rounds without Mya so she could watch and get a feel for the game. Each player explained what they were doing and why. Even I found it useful; I learned information on Caleb's thought process.

When he doesn't have solid cards, he's aggressive toward the beginning of the hand. It tends to force a person to fold a tepid hand, so his chances of winning are better. It's an effective playing style, but you have to have the courage and bankroll to make those moves. You could waste a lot of chips if you don't continue to keep up your aggressiveness. One show of weakness or bad cards and it's all over.

I smirked. I might actually be able to tread through this tournament and win the wager. I observed Caleb as he was smiling at Mya. He was watching her as she bounced up and down in her seat because she had all red cards.

"Mya, you need to have the same suit, not just all red," I said.

"Oh, pooh!" Her bottom lip protruded slightly. "You mean I didn't win?"

"Not this hand, but try again."

"Let her win the next hand," I whispered to Roy and Caleb.

A happy, bouncy Mya was hard enough to handle. I didn't want to see a sad and upset Mya.

"Sure, it's fun to watch her win," Caleb said. Roy nodded in agreement.

I rolled my eyes. _Men!_

Mya won the next hand with a pair of twos. She jumped up and gave everyone a kiss. "I can't believe I won a hand. This is so much fun. I'm going to tell my boyfriend that he's a stupid head and I can play poker."

Caleb nudged me. "Is this why we're here? To take revenge on 'stupid head'?"

"I told you it was a moment of weakness. But just look how happy she is. And now she has the confidence to call her boyfriend a stupid head, which I'm sure he is."

"I'm sure," Caleb said. "Are you going to take me up on the wager?"

Roy's ears perked when he heard the word "wager." It's one of his favorite words.

"What wager? Can I get in on it? What are the odds?" he asked.

Gloria shot him a warning glance. "Big daddy, remember what we talked about. You aren't allowed to bet on any more wagers until you pay me back."

He winced as though he was stabbed with a dull knife.

"You wouldn't have liked the wager," Caleb reassured him.

"Come on," Gloria said to Roy. "We need to get going." She yanked Roy from his seat and blew a good-bye kiss to me.

"I need to get to work too," Mya said. "One of the girls called in sick. I had so much fun. Can we do this again?"

I nodded. She bubbled and bounced like a bouncy ball out of the room.

"She's got personality," Caleb said.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

He stuck his hands up in the air. "I'm just saying she's a sweet girl."

"Uh-huh." I turned to the dealer. "Anthony, give us one more hand. All-in."

Caleb pushed his chips in. "What's this about?"

"If you win, I'll go along with the wager. If I win, I won't."

Since we were both all-in, the dealer faced the cards up. I had a queen and ten, and Caleb had a pair of fives. I watched as Anthony dealt the flop and scrutinized the three cards. They were a nine, jack, and five. The nine and jack could help me win with a straight. Caleb scored a three of a kind. If the dealer threw down a king or eight, I could still win. I sat on my shaking hands.

"Do you want to back out?" Caleb asked. He was enjoying watching me squirm.

"Bite me."

"I intend to."

Anthony laid down the next card called "the turn." It was a three, which didn't help either of us. My head buzzed with nerves. Anthony placed his fingers on the card stack, preparing to flip the next one called "the river."

It's the river that always seems to make or break the hand. Many players with rubbish cards have _sucked out_ on players with a solid winning hand on the river. A seasoned poker player knows to hold off on any excitement about winning the hand until the river is on the table. I hoped this was my time to trounce Caleb. Anthony placed the card on the table . . . a nine.

Caleb grinned. "Damn, I made a full house. I win." He leaned close to me. "I always win."

Chapter 5

Caleb parked me at my assigned tournament table. My heart pounded in my ears. I had to survive the tournament at least until Caleb was knocked out. I had made a wager with Caleb—a wager with a notorious bad-ass, no-ties bachelor that wanted me for a weekend. A weekend of what? I already knew. My knees softened.

Caleb chuckled. "Your face bleached out. Are you thinking of our weekend together? Like I said, I always win. However, I'd hate for you not to make it past the bubble. Slap your poker face on and fantasize about the rest later."

He playfully tugged my hair and strode to his seat, which was four tables away. He positioned himself in a chair facing me. He's right. I had to focus so I could play my best. There was ten grand on the line—my ten grand. I had to make it past the bubble.

No one wanted to be the bubble. The bubble is the person who finishes in the spot right before the cash awards are paid. It's a bitter end to the tournament. I've only been the bubble once. It's not an experience I want to relive. Fortunately, I only lost five hundred on that tournament. Everyone loves the bubble . . . except the unfortunate bubble.

The dealers took their seats and were instructed to begin. My focus snapped to attention. My mind shuffled its priorities, and I was back in business. My ten thousand was priority number one; my virtue was around there somewhere.

I could feel Caleb's eyes on me. I didn't dare look him. Instead, I glowered down the table at a bald man with gold chains and a gold front tooth. He made a move for the pot by spilling chips in. _He's going down; they're all going down._

I played aggressively, taking stabs at the pot. Then, for a few hands, I played tight by playing only winning cards. I switched back and forth until I knocked out three players. My chip stack doubled and then tripled. I was in good shape to crawl my way to the final table. The weight was lifting off my shoulders.

After a couple of hours, the tournament director consolidated the tables to keep each table full. I was now one table away from Caleb and could hear him talking.

He liked to chitchat with the other players. It kept their guards down. Not everyone fell for it, but even if it eliminated a few players, he was closer to the final table. I tried not to listen, but his smooth voice sent shivers rampaging through my body.

"What are you doing this weekend?" Caleb asked a player with a backwards baseball cap.

"I'm going to spend it in style with my winnings."

"Doesn't that mean you have to win first?"

"Yeah, but there are only a hundred spots before we start getting paid."

"True. I would hate to be the bubble," Caleb said. "Players tend to tighten up right before. It's a real pain. I always try to stir up a little action at the table when it plateaus."

"Yeah, man."

I smiled in spite of myself. Caleb was trying to coerce the guy to play aggressively. Nothing wrong with that, but playing aggressively against tight players can end badly if the tight player calls your bluff. A tight player makes a move if they have exceptionally strong cards. Cards that win.

"Caleb, what are you doing this weekend?" a man with dreadlocks asked. "I always see you with hot women. They seem to line up for you, man. What's your secret?"

"My Porsche 911. They love it. My money doesn't hurt either."

I nodded. It was probably true.

"You gonna find yourself a hot number after the tournament?" the man asked.

"I already have one lined up."

My back straightened. The guys at the table laughed as men tend to do when there's a conspiracy for getting lucky.

"Personally, I prefer one that will give me a little hell before I tame her," said a man in a cowboy hat and dark eyes. "I heard she's a tough one to crack."

The back of my neck prickled with the sensation of leering eyes. I leaned back and shot a warning glance at my neighboring table. My poker face was in full force even though I wanted to crawl under the table. No one could keep eye contact with me when I set my mind to a stare down.

I had started practicing my poker stare when I was fourteen and mastered it when I was eighteen. One by one, the men's gazes turned back to their hands. Caleb was the last to look away. He gave me a wink.

"See what I mean?" the man in the cowboy hat said. "She could give a man hell, but they would still come back for more."

Caleb chuckled.

* * *

After a few hours, the players were consolidated again. I installed myself at my new table. Caleb positioned himself at the opposite end of the table.

"I thought you didn't like to sit opposite of me," I said.

"This time it's different. Yesterday, I was trying to keep you in the game. Today," he said with a grin, "I have to win."

"So, you think it's your talents alone determining whether I win or lose this tournament?"

"Yes."

I couldn't think of a witty reply. We'd already been playing for eight hours. My back hurt, my butt hurt, and even my brain hurt. There was no way I was going to give up, not now. There's no telling how long we'd have to play tonight. We keep playing until the final six players move on to the final table.

I peeked at my cards. My face was stone, but my insides shriveled. I'd been dealt crap cards for the last twenty hands. If I didn't get a miracle hand soon, I was going to have to play aggressive and bluff my way through.

After another ten hands, it didn't happen. Good cards weren't coming my way. I had to make my own luck. I contemplated my queen-four off suit. I didn't have a choice. I threw chips into the pot. A man with hoop earrings called, and Caleb shoved all of his chips in. I folded. This happened again . . . and again.

I was in dire need of chips. I peeked at my cards, suppressing a grin at my pair of kings. I shoved in all my chips. Caleb called. I wasn't a threat to him. He had a deep stack of chips heaped high. The king of poker.

The camera crew arrived as we both flipped over our cards. He had a seven-two off suit. In the poker world a seven-two was the worst possible hand a player could start with—something even backed up by mathematical odds. My mouth swung wide open. Poker face be damned; I was floored. What the hell was he thinking? The players stopped mindlessly shuffling their chips and a murmur spread.

The dealer turned over three club cards on the flop. Caleb already had a club in his hand. One more club and he'd win with a flush. My mind rewound to the times I witnessed him win horrible hands with his crazy luck. _Not today._ _Please, not today_. My nails dug into my palm as the dealer turned over an ace of clubs. Caleb made a flush. I was drawing dead. There weren't any cards that could come on the river to save me.

Son of a bitch!

I lost. My tournament was finished and so was my savings.

The players erupted with a roar of amazement. Caleb had done it again. He was known for plays that shouldn't win. For him, they do.

The tournament director spoke into a microphone for the announcement. "Congratulations, you're all past the bubble. From this point on, you will all receive part of the prize pool."

The blood drained out of me. _No, no, no!_ I was the freaking bubble? I was one spot away from money. My ten-thousand-dollar buy-in was gone because of Caleb and his freaking seven-two!

I stood, though my gooey knees protested, and mumbled an obligatory congratulations. I stalked out of the tournament room in confusion. He said something to me. I couldn't hear him . . . I didn't want to hear him. Curses were exploding in my head.

I found my way out of the casino and drew in a deep breath to calm me. It wasn't working. Every time I sucked in oxygen, the flames in my head grew bigger.

Someone brushed up next to me. I glared over my shoulder to see who it was and flinched.

"Hello, darlin'. Can I buy you a drink?" the man with the cowboy hat asked.

"Weren't you at the tournament?"

"Yes, but Caleb knocked me out. That man has his own poker playing style. Every time I think I've figured him out, WHAM! He knocks me out."

"He knocked me out too."

"Aw, well that's a damn shame. You looked good at the poker table." He traced my neck with his finger. "Why don't you and I go and comfort each other?"

Ice flashed down my back and froze me to my spot. I was in no mood to be pleasant. And he was scary and sleazy.

"No. I'm going home."

His brows lowered and his lips thinned. "I'll give you a ride home. Then I'll give you the ride of your life."

"Absolutely not."

"Are you afraid of me? Think I'm too much man for you?"

"Listen, you creepy son of a . . ."

"Nadia!" Remy shouted from his limo parked down the curb from us. He jogged the short distance, placing his giant hand on my shoulder. "Let's go. I'm taking you home."

He steered me to the back of the limo.

"You're not really giving me a ride home, are you?" I asked him as I slid next to the privacy window.

"Yes, that guy is bad news."

"Don't you have things to do for Greyson?"

"No, he's got some stuff going on."

I settled in my seat and watched the lights go by as Remy drove me home. "Well, make sure this is my last limo ride. A girl could get use to this."

In the quiet tomb of the limo, I bit my lip. I didn't want to cry in front of Remy. I had an inkling Greyson would hear about it, and it would make Remy supremely uncomfortable. I'm sure he could handle ten ninjas, but one crying girl would bring him to his knees.

Remy parked in front of the chapel. I hopped out of the car before he could open his door. I called my thanks to him as I scurried away before tears began to fall.

I ran up the stairs and into my apartment. I kicked off my shoes and threw my purse on the floor. I gazed down to find Gus waiting for me with an angry stare down. Good poker face.

"I'm sorry, Gus. I bet you're hungry."

I poured his food ration and threw in a few treats for not eating the couch while I was away.

My cell phone vibrated in my purse. I reached inside and dug around, but the phone wasn't cooperating. I was in no mood to play "find the cell phone." I dumped my purse upside down and grabbed the phone as it fell out.

"Nadia, it's Mya. Did you make it home okay?"

"I did. Why?"

"Greyson asked me to find out. He got a call from Remy."

"News travels fast in the casino."

"Only about some things. Sometimes I can't get any news out of either of them," Mya said. "I was wondering if you wanted to go and grab a bite to eat? I heard you are out of the tournament."

I cringed. News really did travel fast.

* * *

I met Mya at an inexpensive Mexican restaurant about a mile off the strip. She waved me to the table. A pitcher of margaritas was waiting for me.

"Planning on getting us drunk?" I asked.

She giggled. "No, but I need to relax, and I know you're probably wound up from the tournament," she said, pouring both glasses to the rim. "So tell me about it."

"I want to forget about the tournament. Let's just say, Caleb beat me with a seven-two."

"Is that bad?"

"Statistically, it's the worst possible hand, and he still won."

"You must be mad."

"Boiling."

"So . . . are you seeing Caleb?"

"No. I never want to see him again." There was one problem with that. I had to see him again this weekend. I'll make sure to leave all my knives at home.

Mya's eyes brightened. "What about Greyson? I can vouch for him being the best brother-in-law in the world."

"He seems like a nice enough guy. But as far as I can tell, his life revolves around work."

"That's for sure. He hasn't been to a family gathering in years. David always razzed him about it."

"David?"

"Oh, that's my husband. I told you he's missing, right? It's been a couple of years. Greyson helped me get back on my feet," Mya said as her fingers traveled to the rim of her glass, mindlessly circling the rim. "David and I weren't married long before he disappeared. I still love him, but I decided I needed to move on with my life. His family has been really supportive. They aren't mad I'm seeing someone."

"Sounds like a nice family."

"Oh, they are. If you marry Greyson then we can be sisters-in-law . . . well, sort of."

"I'm not going to marry anyone just to become a sister-in-law," I said, adding quickly, "even though you would be the best sister-in-law ever."

Mya's smile brightened.

I believed a little payback was in order. "So, I have someone in mind for you."

Her eyes widened over her margarita glass. "I already have someone."

"True, but I think I know of someone better, and you already know him."

I was actually thinking of Remy. I didn't know too much about him. Mya seemed like a sweet girl who could use a little protection, and Remy could use a little softening. Come to think of it, I wondered if Remy was married.

"Are you trying to hook me up?"

"Yes. And a little taste of your own medicine was in order."

She laughed. "All right, I'll give it a rest. Greyson lectures me for always trying to fix people up. Just keep that guy on the back burner."

"Deal."

* * *

The next morning I crawled out of bed with a margarita-induced headache. As I stumbled through the apartment to find the coffee maker, a note wedged under the front door caught my attention. I could tell from the writing it was from Frankie.

Caleb was here to see you but didn't want to disturb you. Wasn't that nice of him? He left a ticket in the office for you.

Ticket?

After a pot of coffee and a hot shower, I traipsed downstairs. No one was around as it was still too early in the day for weddings.

I extracted an envelope with my name on it from the front-desk drawer. Inside was another note with sloppy handwriting scrawled across the paper.

Nadia, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to suck out with a seven-two. Actually, I was trying to get your stack back up by losing the hand. It didn't seem to work too well, did it? Please come watch the final table as my guest. I would love to see you. P.S. If you come and forgive me, I'll forget the wager . . . unless you'd care to honor it.

Still furious, I grumbled. If he honestly didn't mean to win with that ridiculously crappy hand, _and_ he'll forget the wager, then I had to go. The final table wasn't scheduled until the afternoon. I stuffed the ticket in my pocket and made my way back upstairs. I had plenty of time before the tournament began, and I was determined to relax. It wouldn't be wise to show up angry and hungry for revenge. Stuffing myself with pancakes and drowning my anger in syrup might douse the flames a bit.

* * *

"Helloooo, Elvis," I said to Frankie as I made my way downstairs to leave for the tournament. My headache was gone and my stomach was full. All that remained was a bit of post-margarita sluggishness and a giant hole in the pit of my stomach from losing ten thousand.

"I know. He's way overdone, but he's sooo Vegas that I can't help myself."

"You never dress up as young Elvis anymore. I like it when you do; you're very dashing."

"Isn't that the truth? Young Elvis, however, didn't dress up in a bell-bottomed rhinestone jumpsuit. I like the flash! By the way, I started a calendar for you. I've already booked you on Friday, so you need to practice."

"What?" I panicked. "What did you do?"

"I did what any fabulous manager would do and found you a paying gig to create a name for yourself."

"I'm afraid to ask."

"It's perfectly harmless. There's a magic act on the strip. They need a girl who can perform card shuffling and tossing tricks before the main act. You know, Vegas style. It's going to be televised too. You're lucky I found this gig for you."

"I'm going to look ridiculous."

"Your card-tossing tricks are awesome. It looks like they fly though the air, and they always come back into your hand. You must've had a pretty sad social life in high school to have gotten that good."

"Why don't you hire that poker player who can slice through carrots with playing cards?"

"You mean Chris, the guy with the hat and beard? He's a televised pro and already working the circuit."

"Does it pay anything?"

"That's my girl. Now you're talking! It pays eight hundred minus my cut."

"How much is your cut?"

"That's not important right now. Let's concentrate on surviving the gig."

"Fine, but if I make an ass out of myself, will you give up on this?"

"Don't you know anything about celebrities? They always make asses out of themselves. It's good PR; gets them noticed. By the way, where's my Rocky outfit?"

_Oh, crap!_ It was still in the trunk of the limo.

* * *

I arrived at the casino minutes before the tournament began, timing it perfectly so I didn't have to talk to Caleb. I settled into my front-row seat to watch the final table. The game was about to start. A camera crew and floor director talked to the director through their headsets.

Overhead lights were turned off, leaving the spotlights to shine on the table. Six players were led out to the floor. The audience clapped at their entrance, creating a buzz of excitement that saturated the air. Caleb would be playing for the one-million-dollar prize.

The host came out with a dazzling white smile and spoke the opening lines. Four scantily clad women with enhanced breasts that defied all laws of gravity paraded out, stacking mounds of bundled money onto the table: the prize money.

I drooled as bundle upon bundle fell to the table, making the audience cheer. Caleb casually glanced at the money piled in front of him but was unaffected by the quantity. He caught me studying him and gave me a small wink. I ground my teeth together. He couldn't care less about the money, while I was going to have to live on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

The dealer shuffled, and the air in the room changed. It was now serious and quiet. The breathless anticipation was like televised golf where everyone intently watches the players and no one makes a sound. Even though I could kick Caleb, I did like to see him win. He took winning and losing in stride as if it was meant to be.

I guess he's an okay guy as long as he's not at my table. My teetering views on Caleb were going to keep me guessing about how I truly felt about him.

Watching poker wasn't the same as playing it. I'd rather be dealt in on the action. Twiddling my thumbs on the sidelines wasn't terribly exciting. Unlike a timed sport, poker can go on forever. This could be a remarkably short game or a dreadfully long one. I crossed my fingers for a short one.

As the players were bantering and shuffling chips between their fingers, my mind drifted to the bet. I knew I don't have to worry about the weekend with Caleb anymore, but I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to feel his hands on me . . . to experience his lips covering mine . . .

The crowd burst into an uproar. So much for golf; the atmosphere changed to football. I jumped in my seat at the outburst. I hadn't been paying attention. Caleb's imaginary lips and hands had been distracting me.

"Did you see that?" a man next to me asked as he jumped out of his seat in a flash. He was clapping with the audience and even gave a short whistle.

When he sat down, I asked him, "What happened?"

"Oh man, just like a girl not to know. Caleb knocked out three guys in one hand. I don't think that's ever happened at a final table. The guy is a poker genius."

I sighed. "He is."

All he had to do was beat two other players and he would win the million. The bastard better not win. It's too bad I don't believe in voodoo because I would have brought a doll of him and jabbed it with a needle. I took a deep breath. Maybe there's a shrink out there who specializes in poker players that can't shrug off bad beats.

* * *

Caleb grabbed me from my seat and spun me around. The jerk had won the tournament. The other players never stood a chance.

"You're still on camera," I said, trying to escape the spotlight.

"I know."

"I can't believe you won. Go claim your money." I pushed at him to let me down.

"I will, but I want something first."

"This is very embarrassing. What do you want?"

Caleb leaned his head down and kissed me. His lips were hard and strong. I had an urge to throw my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. I also had an urge to give him a black eye. He released me before I could do either.

"Wait for me at the bar," he said. "I'll be done in a minute."

My legs were a little unsteady when I sat down.

The man sitting next to me inspected me with a quizzical gaze. "Dude, I thought he only dated models."

The power zapped and sizzled, leaving us in complete darkness.

"Please stay calm and remain in your seats," the host instructed. "The lights will be restored as soon as possible. Security staff will bring flashlights to assist."

The chatter from the audience was quiet at first and then grew louder.

"Nadia?" A hand touched my arm.

"Caleb?"

"Yeah, are you okay?"

"Of course."

He plucked me from the chair and took my seat. His strong hands guided me down onto his lap. His finger traced up my arm to my shoulder and then stopped at my neck. As his thumb massaged the side of my neck, I stifled the urge to kick him and instead let the sensation relax me.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Passing the time the best way I know how."

"You sucked out on me with a seven-two."

"I know. I'm really sorry."

"I was the bubble. I hate being the bubble!"

"I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

He pressed his lips to mine.

I pushed him back. "I would rather have my ten thousand buy-in back."

He wrapped his arms around me. A jolt hit me in the stomach as he traced my bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. I slightly parted for him, and he took advantage, parting my lips further and exploring. His tongue played against mine. His hands ran up and down my back, grazing the side of my breast with each pass and making me press into his lap.

"You're not playing fair," he said into my neck as he nibbled a trail down to my shoulders.

"Neither are you."

"Is the wager still on?"

The lights buzzed and then flickered on. I squinted at the sudden brightness, trying to move away from Caleb.

The man next to us frowned at me then Caleb. "What the hell, man? I thought you were into hot chicks."

Caleb was about to answer when a gasp from the audience startled us. The million-dollar prize was missing . . . and a man was sprawled on the floor.
Chapter 6

Caleb stood me up so he could move out of the chair. He gave me one last kiss. "Meet me at the bar in a bit. I have a feeling I might get wrapped up in this."

I nodded.

The tournament director escorted the audience into a separate room off to the side. The police arrived at the site within fifteen minutes. They began to let people leave one by one after they gave their personal information and were asked a couple of questions. I waited until the end.

I watched as Caleb talked with Greyson Miller, Jason Biggs, and the tournament director. Each one was wearing a different version of the same stunned expression.

From where I stood, I could see the medical team move around the man on the floor. A slight gap gave me a glimpse of the man. I noticed a cowboy hat and realized it was the man with the cowboy hat from the previous day; the one Remy had said was bad news. He was sprawled on the floor, but there wasn't any blood. The EMTs moved him onto a gurney and rushed him out. I wondered if he'd had a heart attack.

I gave my information to the police and was released. I headed to the bar to wait for Caleb.

* * *

Caleb spotted me at the bar after he finished with the police and casino management. He quickened his pace to dodge Jessica. She was hot on his tail, buzzing in his ear. I could hear her terse comments from where I sat.

"You're going to ruin your reputation. You can't kiss a regular girl on air."

He stopped abruptly. "That's funny. I was under the impression I could kiss who I wanted. A man died tonight, and my prize was stolen. Can't you give me a break?"

"Not when you have a reputation to uphold."

"That's a reputation you made for me, not one I wanted," he said, but a small smile escaped. "It was fun in the beginning." He turned from Jessica. "Nadia, let's go."

I grabbed my purse. "Where are we going?"

"To celebrate, of course." His lips curled into a sly grin. "If you're still up for the wager, we can start our weekend."

I followed him through the casino. "So, the guy is dead?"

"Yeah, I think so. The medical team wasn't getting a response."

"What happened to your money?"

"Oh, that's no problem. I already have a check."

"Did you know the guy who died?"

"A little. He's a hot-headed player."

"Remy told me he was bad news."

"Who's Remy?"

"Greyson Miller's driver."

Caleb stopped. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you seeing Greyson?"

"That's none of your business."

"It is if you're coming with me this weekend."

"If I was seeing Greyson, I would hope he'd have recognized me at the event you dragged me to."

"Good point." He slid his hand down my back, drawing me closer. "However, I barely recognized you when you were in a dress and all dolled up."

"But you did."

Caleb leaned in and nipped my bottom lip. "You never answered about this weekend."

"You said if I watched the final table you'd forget about the wager."

"The problem is, I can't forget about the wager."

"Those are your hormones talking."

"Most likely, but they're telling me to make a new wager."

"No way! There isn't anything I want that would make me wager with _you_."

"I'll take that challenge." He grinned as he ushered me out the door.

The valet jogged to Caleb's Porsche. He tossed Caleb the keys after he parked at the curb and hopped out. Caleb dropped the keys into my hand.

"Care to wager now?"

"You would wager your Porsche?"

"If you win, you keep the Porsche. If I win, I want a weekend with you of my choosing, and I pick the location."

"Location?" I gulped.

A dirty, sexy smile took over Caleb's face, making me break into a cold sweat. "I have plans for you."

_Crap!_ I was actually beginning to think this was a good idea. My car was broken and I had no money to fix it. Caleb was a temptation waiting to be explored.

I swallowed. "Isn't this a little close to prostitution?"

He chuckled. "Don't cheapen it. I want you, and I know you want me. There's nothing wrong with this. I could easily get into your bed, but I want to win you."

"You can't get into my bed that easily."

Caleb's eyes sparked as he lifted the keys out of my hand and ushered me into his car. He drove me home as my foot nervously tapped.

Why am I putting myself through this? Yes, he's unbelievably, mouth-wateringly hot, and he's a likeable guy . . . for the most part. I don't need a mouth-wateringly hot man. I have poker, Gus, and the chapel. My insides groaned at my life laid out on the operating table for all to dissect. As it laid there, it didn't look very appealing.

Caleb pulled into a parking spot in front of the chapel and turned off the engine. He was out of the car and around to my side before I even realized we'd arrived. He opened the door, and I slid out to follow him.

I could stop this right now. I could tell him that I didn't want him or his car. I could tell him a lot of things that were untrue. As we stepped up the final stair to my apartment landing, he slid my keys out of my pocket and opened the door.

"I don't know what you're trying to prove," I said, stepping into the apartment.

Caleb shut the door behind me, taking me into his arms. He leaned his head down and captured my mouth with his. His lips parted mine.

I couldn't let him win this. It's a challenge to him. I'll stay strong, I thought. Unfortunately, I moaned at the same time. His warm hand had traveled up the inside of my shirt and cupped my breast. His thumb circled around my nipple through the flimsy bra material.

I can't stay strong. This isn't going to work. He's going to win; he always wins.

"Do you need more convincing?" he asked.

I glared at him. "No."

"So, the wager is back on?"

Damn, I wanted him _and_ his car. I nodded.

"Meet me at the casino tomorrow at three. I'll be in the high-stakes room. We'll play one hand. Winner takes all."

"I'll be there."

"Good. Walk me downstairs. I'm afraid of bumping into Frankie."

"Frankie is harmless."

"So you say. He was eyeing me like I was candy last night."

So was I.

I escorted Caleb downstairs, where he gave me a light kiss good-bye. He hopped in his car, hopefully to become my car, and drove off. I turned to hoof it back upstairs.

"There you are," Frankie said.

I jumped and clutched my heart. "Did you need me?"

"We need to go over your routine for the gig tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes. "What time is the show?"

"It's at seven, but you'll need to arrive a little early for a walk-through and short rehearsal. Everyone there is professional, so there shouldn't be any problems."

"What did you need me to do?"

"Just your crazy card-tossing tricks."

"How many minutes do I have to fill?"

"They said fifteen, but you should have a few tricks up your sleeve in case the magician needs more time."

"I'll do the boomerang, cascade, waterfall, two-arm spread, the twirl, and I'll finish up with the one-handed twirl with the three-card juggle in the other hand."

"Have you learned any more tricks?"

"Frankie, I learned these when I was a teenager and had no life."

He eyed me. "Nothing's changed."

I glared at him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Don't get huffy," he said. "You're just mad because it's true."

"You're probably right." There was no arguing with Frankie. I didn't have the energy to try.

"Make sure to grab your outfit for the performance tomorrow," he said, pointing to a garment bag hanging on the door.

"I'm afraid to look."

"It will be perfect. We can use it again for future gigs."

"Can you at least let me choose the gigs? I don't want to look like a fool. It's hard to play poker against people when they're laughing at you."

"No need to worry. We are going to transcend poker. We are going to bring it to a whole new level of entertainment."

"You're scaring me."

"Trust me. I made this chapel a success, and I can make you a success. Stick with me, kid. By the way, where's my Rocky outfit?"

I groaned. "I'll call Steffi and see if she can locate it."

I grabbed the garment bag and trudged up to my apartment. I set the bag on the kitchen table. I didn't have the courage to open it.

* * *

I took a taxi to the casino to meet Caleb in the high-stakes room. This was a room I rarely had the chance to see from the inside. While Caleb spent most of his time here, I was at the low-stakes tables barely scraping by. It would cost me a one-hundred-thousand-dollar buy-in to sit at the table in this room.

Caleb was at the table with two cards placed upside down in front of him. His fingers shuffled his chips. He was in a hand with two other players, waiting for one of them to make a call. His eyes flicked to me when I entered but didn't acknowledge me since he was still in a hand. I plopped down in an overstuffed chair in the corner and waited.

The rules in high stakes Texas Hold'em are the same as the ones on the casino floor. The difference is dealers here are allowed to modify rules as requested by players, as long as the table is in agreement. The players here are in their own type of club. They know each other and have fun, but they can be cut-throat serious too. They also come up with amusing side bets to liven the game.

I had once witnessed these guys bet on whether player Jerry Reiger's mom had made him a pastrami sandwich or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. They were allowed to sniff his backpack and then had to make the bet. What I want to know is why a thirty-eight-year-old man needs his mom to make him a sandwich?

I gazed up to find Caleb standing next to me. "Ready?"

"What are we playing?"

"High card."

"Really? That's it?"

"Are you disappointed?"

"Well, it's not terribly original."

"Should we take a vote from the guys?"

"We might as well. I'm assuming they're making a side bet on us anyway."

Caleb grinned. "They've been talking about it for hours now."

"Are you guys going to get on with it or what?" Jerry asked.

"We're trying to determine what game we should play," Caleb said.

Quiet Mike stood up and placed two empty glasses on the table and handed each of us a stack of chips.

"Whoever can bounce the most chips into their glass wins," Jerry said.

Caleb turned to me. "Well?"

I hesitated.

"Don't think you can do it?" he asked.

"All right, let's play." I can't seem to beat him at poker, so maybe I could win this.

The guys at the table threw in their chips for the bet and settled back to watch.

Caleb picked up a chip and bounced it, landing it perfectly in the glass.

I slid a sideward glance at him. "Have I just been hustled?"

"No," he said with a smile. "I'm just lucky."

I bounced a chip, which sailed over Jerry's head.

_Clink._ Caleb made another shot.

I carefully aimed my shot and bounced the chip so it wouldn't fly off the table. This time it landed in Quiet Mike's glass with a splash.

"Does that count?" I asked.

Everyone shook their heads no.

_Clink._ Caleb made another shot.

A woman sauntered into the room. I knew of her but had never met her in person. Catarina Carvona was one of the few women to play high stakes in the boys' club. She didn't take any crap from them. It was rumored she and Caleb had dated for a while.

"What's this?" she asked. She pushed back her long, dark hair. Her dark eyes rested on Caleb.

"Don't interrupt, Cat," Jerry said. "It's just getting good."

Her eyes were still on Caleb. "What are the stakes?"

"His Porsche or a weekend with Nadia," Jerry said.

Catarina smirked. "Didn't you already try that with me, Caleb? Only I was smart enough not to get hustled."

My spine flashed ice. I straightened to glare at Caleb who narrowed his eyes at Catarina. She laughed at him and threw back her hair.

"Son of a bitch!" I said. "You hustled me!"

I picked up my remaining chips, tossing them haphazardly at the glass in the middle of the table. They hit the table, bounced, and then scattered.

"There. You won!"

"Nadia, you don't understand," Caleb said.

I snatched my purse and marched out the door.

"Nadia, wait." Caleb ran after me.

I ignored him.

He grabbed my arm, swinging me around. "Please hear me out."

"You hustled me, and now you want me to hear you out? It's not so bad I was hustled, but the fact that you did the same thing with Catarina makes me queasy. Just let me go. You got what you wanted."

"I didn't get what I wanted. I wanted you to be mine because you wanted to be, not because you were hustled."

"You wanted to win me, and you did."

"Not like this," he said, pressing a ticket in my hand.

One glance at the ticket and I knew it was from the valet. "What's this?"

"My Porsche. It's yours."

"This is your guilt talking. I lost the bet because of my own stupidity. I'm not taking your car to make you feel better about the situation." I shoved the ticket into his front jeans pocket and turned to march away.

"Dammit," he growled. He grabbed my shoulder, swinging me around to face him again. "You frustrate the hell out of me."

I opened my mouth to reply, but he swooped down, kissing me hard. He held me in a tight embrace. I momentarily weakened but pushed him back before I fell under his spell.

"Leave me alone," I said and stomped away. He let me go and didn't follow me. My shoulders slumped.

I made my way to the front of the building to hail a taxi to go home. I had to dress for the show. _Stupid show! Stupid Caleb!_

Remy was outside with the limo. "You need a lift?"

"Thanks, Remy, but I can just catch a taxi."

"Greyson said I should give you a ride. He thought you might need one."

"Why would he say that?"

Remy's phone buzzed. He scanned the text message. "Hang with me for a moment. Greyson is on his way to a meeting. We'll be passing your place anyway."

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"How's it not a good idea? You'll save money and ride in a limo. Plus, Greyson will keep you company so you don't feel like you're riding in a hearse."

"That's the problem. I don't know Greyson. I spilled a drink on him, and then I bumped into him at the charity event. That's it."

Plus, when he's near me my insides turn to mush. I was already a swirling emotional concoction from my encounter with Caleb. I didn't need Greyson adding fuel to the potency.

Greyson walked out the front door. Jason Biggs followed closely on his heels, chirping in his ear about the upcoming meeting. Steffi jogged behind, taking notes.

Greyson registered me and smiled. His eyes softened and his smile was sincere. Damn if he wasn't wearing a suit that fit him perfectly, making him too close to heaven.

Remy opened the limo door and ushered me in before I could protest. Greyson followed, with Jason shouting a final few words before Remy closed the door, leaving Greyson and I alone.

"I'm sorry about this," I said. "I tried to tell Remy I could take a taxi."

Greyson assessed me as I perched opposite of him. "Remy was acting upon my request. I heard what happened in the high-stakes room."

"How did you hear about it so fast?"

"We have cameras everywhere. The security guards monitor the high-stakes room and several others. We want to keep our players safe—including from each other. Some of their side bets spiral out of control."

"Like the sandwich bet?"

"That one was funny. I actually wagered on it. Most of the time I couldn't care less, but today was different."

Catching his eye, I shrugged. "I was hustled. You can't make a living at gambling if you're going to be afraid of everyone. I learned my lesson."

Greyson's phone rang. "Yes?" he asked into the phone. I watched as his expression changed. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. "Where was he?" He gripped the phone. "I'll get Remy on it."

Greyson ended the call and gazed out the window. His eyes drifted to a point beyond where vision was needed. I didn't want to disturb him, so I sat still. It was the perfect time to watch him without him noticing my obvious ogling.

He must have a serious flaw somewhere. No one can be so devastatingly gorgeous and not have a gigantic, hideous, secret flaw. I was going to find out what it was. That way he wouldn't be so damn tempting. But maybe this would be our final encounter. That would slam the brakes on temptation too.

His eyes traveled back to me. "I'm sorry. I was lost in my thoughts for a moment."

"It's okay. You're the one giving me the ride."

A smile barely escaped the confinement of his lips. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?" he asked.

"I got conned into working as an opening act for a magician."

He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of act?"

"Nothing interesting. Just card-tossing tricks."

"Sounds interesting to me," he said. "It isn't for Lupier, is it?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

He grinned. "Then I'll see you tonight. I have VIPs coming in for the night. They want to see the show."

"You're kidding, right? I'm nervous enough. Can you bring them after my opening?"

"No, I want to see your act. Do you need a ride? Remy can pick you up."

I shook my head. "It's okay. I know he will be busy with whatever problems you're having."

Greyson's lips smiled but his tired eyes betrayed him. "Problems come and go."

"Are you still cleaning up the tournament mess?"

"Yes. Were you there?"

"I was in the audience."

Greyson nodded as though he might have already known. "I'm sorry I didn't see you. I was a bit preoccupied. You weren't hurt or anything, were you?"

"No, Caleb came to find me in the audience and stayed until the power came back on."

He hesitated for a moment. "What made you take the bet with him?"

"You know my car problems already. He was wagering his Porsche."

"A car was worth taking his wager?"

"At the time I had a different opinion of him. If I did lose, it wouldn't have mattered. Now that I've lost and my opinion has changed, I'm hoping he'll be a gentleman and call off the wager."

"Do you think he will?"

"I have no idea."

"Will you go through with it?"

"I'll have to. He wouldn't back out giving me his car, so I have no right to back out unless he lets me." I smirked. "But I'll make him suffer for it."

"It wouldn't hold up in court."

"Are you a poker player?"

"No. Never enjoyed it."

"There's a small thread of trust between professional poker players. It's very fragile. If you break this bond you'll have a hard time working with professional players. It can be a tight-knit group, and you can find yourself on the wrong side of the table."

"Didn't Caleb break the trust?"

"Caleb is in a league by himself. His thread is a little sturdier than most."

Remy pulled the limo to the entrance of All Celebrities Chapel.

"Thank you for the ride," I said. "I hope your day gets better."

"It already has. Good luck tonight."

I smiled and hopped out of the door Remy opened for me. "Thanks, Remy. Have fun chasing down bad guys."

"I always do."

Greyson leaned out of the limo. "Remy, don't forget to give Nadia her bag from the trunk." A sly grin formed on his face.

"That's not my bag," I tittered, hoping he would believe me.

"I took it from you at the Naughty Shack, so it must be yours," Remy said.

Greyson smiled at me. "Is that the outfit you will be wearing for the show?"

"Not on your life!" I shrieked, wanting to find the nearest hiding spot.

* * *

Gus was sprawled on his back on the couch when I let myself into the apartment. He cocked his head to the side and let out a deep grunt.

I filled his bowl with his ration. His legs raced, trying to right himself. He was finally able to flop over to one side and tuck his legs under him. It was like watching a nature show on upside-down turtles.

"Have you lost any weight yet?"

He casually sniffed my shoe, sauntered to his bowl, and plopped down to munch.

My phone buzzed. Glancing at it, I read Caleb's name as it popped up on the caller ID. I tossed the phone on the table and slipped into the bathroom to take a shower.

It wasn't about him hustling me or even winning . . . okay, maybe a little. My biggest problem was Catarina. She snared her meat hooks into every man. I had hoped Caleb would have seen through her. But realistically, what man could? She was beautiful and had an air of naughty girl to her, and she dressed in shamefully uninhibited clothes. Women hated her. Men want to score with her. Caleb would have been no different.

I should have known not to entangle myself with a poker player. This was going to turn into the hot topic of the tables for months. Caleb would appear as the sexy bachelor that his image already conveyed, and I would look pathetic for falling into such an obvious trap.

I yanked out my costume for the gig, still thinking about my pathetic status. I sucked in air as my stomach plummeted a twenty-story drop onto concrete.

"Frankie!" I screamed.

I held out the two scraps of material. There was nothing there. No dress, no nothing. It was a sequined thong bikini.

Frankie burst into my apartment armed with a broom. "Where is he? I can take him!" He jumped around the room, peeking behind the door and couch.

Gus gave him a twitchy eye stare but hunkered down to eat.

"No one is here. What is this?" I squeaked, holding the costume between my two fingers.

"You gave me a heart attack, woman!" he barked, clutching his chest. "I was going to come up here and get all freaky on his ass."

"I refuse to wear this bikini!"

"It will make you memorable. We need more gigs."

"Frankie, I have to concentrate on the tricks. How can I do that when my cheeks are hanging out?"

"How am I supposed to know your brain and butt cheeks are connected? I have another costume you can wear. It's part of my own collection, so don't go stretching it out."

I rolled my eyes. He scurried down to his apartment to find the costume. Within a few minutes, he returned and was pinning me into a short, gold-sequined dress.

"Why can't I wear underwear?"

"You'll see panty lines."

"Frankie, you're pinning it too tight."

"Can you breathe?"

"Yes."

"Then it's not too tight."

"But my boobs are popping out."

"That's good. Just don't pick up a card if you drop one. You'll have your ass hanging out one side and your boobs out the other. We don't want to give that kind of a show."

Frankie finished my dress and straightened my hair flat. He glued false lashes onto my eyelids and dusted me with sparkly powder. I couldn't help but think this gig was a terrible mistake.

I was able to descend the two flights of stairs in the tight dress, but I had to shimmy the dress back down over my butt by the time I reached the bottom.

Frankie drove us to the theater. He floated in through the backstage door with an air of showmanship. None of the security guards stopped him. I followed him in, not nearly so theatrical and much more apprehensive.

There was nothing special about the backstage. A few people milled about, hanging lights and moving props. It was an open area with nothing much there except a collection of dust bunnies floating around corners.

"Ah, Lupier!" Frankie gushed.

The man turned to Frankie with a cold stare. He was in his late forties with dark hair and eyes. A touch of gray dusted the sides of his hair near his temple. His looks were handsome, classic Italian. He was only a few inches taller but gave off a presence that he was larger than life. He was thin, but his hard angles gave him the appearance of being well-built.

I felt my blood pressure rise as I saw Catarina standing beside him. Her eyes widened at my approach and then acknowledged me with a slippery smile.

"You couldn't play poker or bounce chips so you thought you would try a new career? Did they mention you need talent for this sort of work?" Her lips curled.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "Not enough men left in the casino to ensnare?"

Her narrow eyes slashed into me, but then she turned to Lupier with a dazzling smile. "I'll let you get back to work. I'll wait for you in your dressing room so we can _talk_."

Lupier nodded and turned to cast a speculative gaze over at Frankie. "Yes, I'm Lupier. How did you get back here?" he asked in a thick Italian accent.

"I'm Frankie Garza. You hired Nadia Wolf to be your opening act."

Lupier looked past Frankie and acknowledged me with a full-length scan. His mouth curved into a showman's smile.

"You, my bella, are Nadia?"

"Yes."

"May I see some of your tricks?"

"Of course."

I snagged a deck of cards from my purse. "This is one of the easier ones," I said as I twirled a card on top of my index finger. I then flipped the card between my fingers.

"Marvelous," he said, but more to my cleavage than to me. "Make yourself at home. Refreshments are on the back table, should you want them. I have to go rehearse with my assistants. I expect perfection with my assistants, which only happens with constant practicing."

I nodded.

"Nadia," Frankie said when Lupier left. "We have an hour before you have to go on stage. You should practice."

"Remember, you're going to have to help me for the final number."

"I know. I can't wait to be onstage. I'm so glad my jumpsuit still fits."

And boy, did it fit! He was stuffed into a white jumpsuit with large diamond stones sewn all over it. It had to weigh twenty pounds and was guaranteed to blind the audience when the spotlight hit it.

I practiced like Frankie asked, though I didn't put my heart into it. I had to make sure I still had enough juice to go on stage and perform—especially with the finale I had prepared. He wasn't watching me, so I was able to relax without him hovering. After flirting with a wide-eyed stagehand, Frankie moved on to corralling the producer in hopes of scoring an impersonation gig.

Watching Frankie kept me amused for a little while. But as I practiced, life as a dull and awkward teenager came flooding back to me. The hours and hours I'd practiced on these same tricks to perfect them for my friends who'd watched quizzically didn't put me in the mood to perform them in front of an audience. I have to admit, I'd had good friends. But they'd never understood my love of cards, and I never understood their love of shopping, magazines, and makeup. So while they were doing their thing, I did mine. We would meet up again so I could hear the latest gossip and exploits of the teenage world that I missed.

Maybe I had practiced for Jaydon Park too. He hadn't been the hottest guy in school, but he'd ranked in the top ten and was the only boy I had a crush on. He organized the school's talent contest, and I had immediately entered to be closer to him. Little did I know all those hours of practicing would be wasted because he was in love with the theater . . . and men. But I hadn't known his preference until I tried to kiss him after the talent show. Having placed second in the contest, I went in for a kiss. I was aiming for his lips, but I smooched the hand he shot up to halt my advancing lips. I had stopped practicing after the incident. I had also stopped trying to kiss boys.

I shook the past out of my head and continued practicing. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Lupier and his assistants getting ready. I was excited to see they had some spectacular stunts and tricks in their routine. Maybe I'd be able to see part of the show after my act.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer boomed over the sound system. "Please put your hands together for Nadia Wolf."

A round of applause burst from the audience, and my brain and all bodily functions seized. Frankie pushed me toward the stage right after I told him I was going to kill him.

I walked purposefully to the center of the stage and gazed over everyone's head like I was taught for my grade-school performance of _Henny Penny_.

When I stepped onto my mark, the spotlights shined on me, blackening the audience in a heavy cloak. Sweat began to bead on my skin. I gulped. This was what hell must be like.

Sensuous, gripping music floated through the speakers. I tried to relax with the music and warmed up with the easy tricks first. I let the cards fall like a waterfall from one hand into another. My movements swayed to the music. I twirled the cards on my fingers and then juggled three cards in the other hand. The tricks became more difficult as my routine progressed. As my heartbeat was lowering back to hundreds instead of thousands of beats per second, the tricks became easier to execute and more fluid. I could hear clapping, though it sounded as if it was in a tunnel far away. My nerves must be clogging up my ears.

A commotion of arguing voices behind the curtain jolted me from my intense focus. Cards burst from my hand like a bad joke of fifty-two-card pickup. They showered down onto the stage and the audience in the first row. _Oh no! This can't be happening!_ I bent over to grab at the cards when Frankie shouted from the side of the stage.

"No!" He took a running slide to block me.

It was too late. My butt was up in the air, making the dress pop up to my waist and exposing my posterior to the cameras and gasping audience as Frankie slid right past me. He turned on his heel and scurried to my side. In a flurry he straightened me up, yanked my dress back down, slid me a new deck of cards, and then hurried offstage. As he stood me back up, a pin from the dress stabbed into me. I bit my lip to keep myself from tearing.

I had to refocus and get back into the routine, but all I wanted to do was run from the stage and hide under my bed. My hands shook as I fumbled with the new deck of cards. My face heated well beyond Nevada's hottest temperatures.

I fumbled through the routine's last few tricks. I knew Greyson was out there watching my every move and ghastly mistake. The thought replayed in my head until all I could see was Greyson's eyes wide with shock at my horrendous performance.

For the finale, Frankie brought out a metal pail filled with water. My fingers twirled a few cards, and one by one, I placed them on long, thin sticks with a pointed end. I tilted my head back and placed the end of each stick in my mouth. I bit the ends of the sticks to keep them steady, always careful so they didn't stop twirling. This was the trick that landed me second place in the talent contest. But this time, I was adding a new element . . . fire. While the cards stayed in motion, I reached up and lit them on fire with trembling hands. I had already pretreated the cards so they wouldn't turn to ash right away. Now I wished I'd rethought adding fire.

I could only let them twirl for a few moments before they would naturally stop. As I reached for the first one to toss into the water, a gasp from the audience startled me. At first I believed it was for my daring act. I was redeeming myself from the brink of blooper reels when I caught a movement from the corner of my eye. Something rammed into me from the side, knocking me to the floor. My head slammed into the metal bucket. I was conscious long enough to see the flaming cards fall toward me.

Chapter 7

My eyes fluttered open to see Frankie standing over me.

"She's awake," Frankie said.

An older man peered into my eyes with a pen light. "Welcome back. How do you feel?"

"Nauseated."

He nodded. "You might throw up, and that's okay. I think you have a concussion. You should go to the hospital for an examination."

"I don't have insurance or money."

"Then make sure you stay awake for twenty-four hours to be on the safe side. I know it's not common practice anymore. But without an examination, I don't want to take any chances."

"Is she able to go home now?" asked a voice more delicious than chocolate. I turned toward the voice; it was Greyson.

"Yes, but someone needs to stay with her and keep her awake."

"I'll be fine at home," I said.

"Is there someone who can watch you?" Greyson asked

"Frankie has to work tonight. I can be a witness in the chapel."

Frankie shook his head. "I closed the chapel tonight for your performance. I have a date lined up for later, but I'll cancel. You're more important."

"No, go on your date. You never get nights off. You deserve a normal date."

I tried to stand. Greyson took my arm and assisted me.

"You can stay with me at the casino," Greyson offered.

Concussion or not, my insides were doing cartwheels at the thought of staying with him.

"I don't want to put you out. Let me call Roy and ask him," I said, playing it smooth.

"You wouldn't be putting me out, but I understand if you'd feel more comfortable with Roy."

I borrowed Frankie's phone and called Roy. No answer. I tried to think of someone else, but I didn't have any close friends here.

I gave a nervous titter. "Looks like you're stuck with me," I told him.

He smiled. "I'd rather be stuck with you than the mountain of paperwork waiting for me back at the office."

Frankie shook his head. "You're going to be wishing you had the paperwork after having to take care of Nadia for twenty-four hours. Once she was stricken with the flu, and I've never seen a grown woman whine so much."

I glared at Frankie.

"Ooh, you see? It's already begun." He turned to Greyson. "Make sure you take care of my star. She's going to make me rich. Just have to work out the kinks in her routine." Frankie gave me a kiss on the top of my head and left.

I peered at Greyson. "I'm really sorry about this. And for the record, I don't whine."

"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault."

"What happened?" I asked, trying to recall the event.

"A person ran from backstage and slammed straight into you. I've never seen anything like it. He didn't even stop."

"Does anyone know who it was?"

Greyson shook his head. "They were wearing a hoodie that covered their face. It may have been a woman from the thin figure."

"I did hear noise backstage. That's when I . . . uh . . ." I nearly fainted at the remembrance of my butt hanging out. Greyson had witnessed the whole thing. _Ugh!_ This was too embarrassing.

"You were amazing on stage. My VIPs loved it."

"When my ass popped out?" I nearly shrieked.

His head fell back as he laughed. "Well, I can't say they didn't enjoy that as well."

I groaned.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get out of here."

"What about your VIPs?"

"Remy will take us to the penthouse and then come back to pick them up after Lupier's performance."

"I'm sorry about this."

"Don't be."

"You could make Remy babysit me."

"I wouldn't wish that on anyone," Greyson said, chuckling. "He might take it literally and sit on you."

He must have been kidding, but I was too befuddled by his proximity. Greyson led me through the backstage and stayed close in case I became lightheaded. The limo was parked near the backstage exit with Remy waiting. My eyes caught a man watching us from the adjacent parking lot. He was leaning against a black car, his eyes pierced through the distance.

"Remy, can you call ahead and make sure supplies are brought up for Nadia?" Greyson asked.

Remy nodded and ushered me into the back seat.

"I don't need anything," I said. "I'm fine."

Greyson eyed me as he slipped into the limo. "You're wearing a burnt costume, and your hair is singed. Not to mention, you'll probably have a nasty headache later."

"My hair?" My hand flew to inspect my hair. "Is it okay?"

"Don't worry about it. I can hire a stylist to come and fix it."

I contemplated. "Why are you doing all of this?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Most people do."

"How about a vacation from work for twenty-four hours?"

"You wouldn't actually be taking a vacation since you're still on property. You'll have your phone and probably a laptop too."

"You're taking the fun out of this."

"Greyson, please don't take offense, but you seem like a man who is married to his work. Marriage doesn't get vacations."

"That's not a glowing recommendation for marriage."

"If you met a woman and fell head over heels in love with her, would you marry her?"

He shook his head. "It wouldn't be fair to marry her. You're right about me. My job comes first. She would end up having to compete for my attention."

"So, there's the end to your vacation."

He smirked. "We barely know each other and yet you already know me better than I know myself."

"You might want to work on that."

"Are you okay? I think your eyes just crossed."

"I felt a twinge."

His arm reached around my shoulder, bringing me to lean on him. I settled against him as if it was natural to be near him. I didn't fight it. My head was already throbbing. His scent drifted to me—clean with the slightest hint of expensive cologne; it made my insides hum.

Remy dropped us off at the front entrance of the casino. Greyson steered me to the elevator using his keycard to access the top floor.

My face sprang into an awestruck gawk as I stepped inside the penthouse. My entire apartment would fit in it four times over. The living room was classy with clean lines, warm tones, and a distinct impression it was designed specifically for a man. Black accents were sprinkled through the room. The kitchen had a steel-gray granite top, stainless steel appliances, and drop-down lighting that was more for style than function.

"Will this be okay as your home for the next twenty-four hours?" Greyson asked.

This would be okay as my home for the rest of my life.

I smirked. "I was hoping for something a little more upscale and classy."

He chuckled and pressed a light kiss onto my forehead before going into the kitchen. My fingers touched where his kiss had fallen. Is there something going on here? My thoughts strayed to Caleb, but I shook him out of my head. Caleb and I weren't going to work, and Greyson wouldn't be in it for the long haul. I needed to keep them both at bay until I figured things out. But not until my headache disappears.

There was a knock on the door. Greyson opened it to let Mya in. She bounded in like a Labrador puppy but quickly stopped when she caught a glimpse of me.

"Nadia, what happened to you?"

"A little incident involving fire."

"I was told Greyson needed supplies, but I didn't know they were for you. I was coming to check on what he needed."

"Nadia is going to stay with me for twenty-four hours," Greyson said. "Doctor's orders, in case you start getting ideas in your head."

Mya put her nose up. "I don't know what you're referring to."

"Since I've known you, you've tried to marry me to at least one woman every month."

"If you would marry one of them, I wouldn't have to keep trying."

His eyes crinkled with a smile. He kissed her forehead and sent her off with a list of things to bring back to the room. I relaxed after having seen her get a forehead kiss too. It's probably just something he does. I wonder if he accidentally kisses his employees or business partners. I smiled at the image of him kissing his newest Japanese business partner on the forehead.

"Why don't you go take a shower? It will make you feel better, and then hopefully Mya will have some clothes ready for you. If not, just use one of the robes."

"I guess we should have stopped by my place. I could have at least changed my clothes."

"It's not a big deal."

I steered myself to his bathroom. I stared in wonder at his shower. You could fit a small elephant in it. There were showerheads from every direction, all facing the center. I searched for a knob to turn the shower on.

"How do I turn it on?" I shouted.

"Just step into it," he shouted from the living room.

I stripped off my singed dress and stepped hesitantly into the shower. The water immediately cascaded down and was the perfect temperature. My muscles wilted with unexpected surrender. A basket full of boutique soaps and shampoos was within reach. I smelled each one, trying to figure out which one Greyson used. I couldn't determine the exact one, so I picked the calming lavender.

I stood there longer than I would have in my own shower, letting the experience and water wash away my headache and the memory of a night I wanted to forget. I sighed as I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself. I wasn't ready to leave the place that wrapped me in a cuddly water cocoon, but I didn't want to keep Greyson waiting. Maybe if I got messy again I could take another shower before my time was up.

I donned a robe and found my way back to the living room. Greyson was immersed in his laptop but caught a glimpse of me and smiled.

"I thought I might need to come in there and drag you out. I was afraid you were trying to sneak in a nap."

"Your shower is impressive. I think you can reconsider marriage. She wouldn't really need you. One shower could satisfy a person for a week."

"It was that good?"

"To die for," I said, plopping down on the couch. I winced as a zing raced through my brain.

"Are you okay?"

"It could be a headache . . . or my brain was zapped by a lightning bolt."

"Mya brought some stuff. She was insistent that I should let her stay, but I told her she could harass you later, if that's okay. I think there's some headache medicine." He dug through the bag and pulled out a bottle. "There's also an ice pack and a heating pad. I don't know which you would need. Do you want them?"

"Just the medicine for now."

Greyson brought me a bottle of water and two tablets. I shot the tablets into my mouth and took a gulp of water.

"You officially have twenty-three hours to go. Do you want to watch a movie with me?"

"It's Friday night," I stated, inspecting him. He was still in a suit and all business.

"Is that a yes for the movie?"

"Why aren't you on a date? Even Frankie has a date tonight."

"I don't plan ahead because I inevitably have to cancel. If I need to find a date, I do so at the last moment."

"Uh-huh."

"What does that mean? I can see your wheels turning."

"Nothing really. I think sometimes I would like to be a man."

He smiled. "Perhaps in your next life."

"Perhaps," I said. "I want to see your secret spy stuff."

"I don't have secret spy stuff."

"Yes, you do. You know everything that happens. You knew about my wager with Caleb as it was happening. You were at the tournament minutes after the lights went out. How is that possible if you don't have secret spy stuff?"

He laughed. "Would you like a tour of the super-secret spy room?"

"Yes."

"Now aren't you glad I don't have a date? Get dressed and we'll head down."

I hopped off the couch but had to grab my stomach and my head to steady myself.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Yes. You're stuck with me for twenty-three more hours, and I'll drive you crazy if you don't show me." Plus, it would keep us out of the penthouse and far away from treacherous temptation.

I snatched the bag Mya brought and dug around. I pulled out jeans and a stretchy T-shirt. I also pulled out something resembling a bra and panties. But with hardly any fabric, it was questionable. I took my items to the bathroom and dressed. I tied my hair back into a ponytail, overlapping my burnt hair with some healthier strands.

Greyson was waiting when I stepped back into the living room. He had changed from his Armani suit into relaxed jeans and a deep-blue, button-down shirt, leaving the bottom untucked. I halted. His shoulders were wide and his body tapered down to narrow hips. I had the sudden urge to unbutton his shirt, button by button, and kiss his chest all the way down . . .

He raised an eyebrow.

I shook the image of his naked body out of my head. I think the conk on my head must have some side effects.

"I just didn't expect to see you without a suit," I said to cover my obvious ogling.

"I do have a little bit of a life outside my suit," he said, scooting me out the door.

I would love to help him out of his suit.

Down, girl!

He led me into the elevator, where I stood on the opposite side so I didn't do anything I might regret. We arrived on the main floor, and I followed him down a few hallways leading to various parts of the casino. This part was all public space, and as a frequent player at this casino, I had seen it all before.

"Greyson," a woman called out.

I turned around to see Catarina and instantly grimaced. Greyson glanced down at me.

"I thought it was you," she said as she neared him. "I saw you at Lupier's performance tonight. The main act was great, but I can't say the same for the opening act." A slithery smile escaped, aimed directly at me.

"What can I do for you, Catarina?"

"Have you been avoiding me lately?"

"No, I've been busy."

"You're always busy," she said, casting an evil eye in my direction. "But not so busy to skip spending time with her. You know she's been playing around with Caleb, right?"

My eyes sent daggers in her direction.

"Catarina, I'll talk to you later. This isn't a discussion we need to have now," he said.

My stomach lurched. Had Catarina already sunk her claws into Greyson? Is there a man alive who hasn't had a Catarina sampler platter?

"Okay," she said, stepping closer. Her finger touched his shirt button. "Later tonight?"

"No, I'm busy."

She flashed her eyes at me. "Don't bother with her. She's so plain and boring. Why would you want her when you can have me?"

Greyson sidestepped her, slipping his hand into mine. "Goodnight, Cat."

Catarina glared while Greyson led me away.

When we were far enough away, Greyson said, "Sorry about Catarina."

I shrugged. "She's dove into every poker player's bed already. I'm sure she wants to set her next score higher. Maybe that's why she's been netting magicians too."

"Which is why I've been avoiding her."

My feet quit moving. My hand slipped out of Greyson's. "You mean you haven't already?"

"Slept with her? No." Greyson's fingers threaded through mine, resuming our path.

When I didn't speak, because I was trying to comprehend a man passing up sex, he said, "Are you stunned into silence?"

"I didn't think the day would come."

He chuckled. "When a man could resist having sex?"

"Frankly, yes."

He used his key card to access an employee-only hallway and once more to access a room.

My eyes widened as he opened the door and allowed me in.

"It's like a spy film," I said.

The walls of the large room were covered in monitors. Strategic stations with buttons and switches were posted along the monitor walls for security to watch.

A man in a security uniform hurried over to Greyson. "I wasn't expecting to see you," the man said.

"I'm giving Nadia a tour. Did Remy notify you that she's allowed complete access to the penthouse for the next twenty-four hours?"

The man's eyes drifted to me but snapped back to Greyson. "Yes, he did."

Greyson asked him a few questions about various business issues as I roamed around the room peering at monitors. There must be hundreds of cameras on property. Some of the monitors had only one camera dedicated to them, while others flipped through several camera shots. I halted when I caught a glimpse of the high-stakes room. Caleb was still there.

It's not uncommon for a poker player to work a table for an entire day. So I didn't think anything of it until I spotted the dealer sweeping chips away from Caleb.

"What the hell?"

The man at the station nearest to me cast his gaze up in my direction then back at his station of monitors. "Caleb's been losing all night."

"Do you know how much he's lost?"

"I would guess a quarter of a million."
Chapter 8

To me, a loss of a quarter of a million would be the end of the world, but to a player like Caleb, it was more like a kick to the groin. Either way, I wouldn't wish it upon him . . . maybe a little. What was clear to me was that Caleb was on tilt; his emotions were controlling his game. Since I've known him, he's never been on tilt.

"Can you pull him out?" I asked the security officer.

"He has plenty of money. If he wants to lose it, that's his business."

I turned to Greyson. He must have overheard the conversation, and he nodded. One word to the security manager, and moments later, a plain-clothes security officer entered the high-stakes room and whispered something in Caleb's ear. Caleb nodded, though his jaw was clenched tight. He had his remaining chips paid out and left.

"What did security say to him?" I asked the security officer.

"They don't say much. He probably just asked him to give up his seat for the next player. It saves the player from any embarrassment. He could have refused."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I took a peek and read Caleb's name on the caller ID. I wasn't ready to talk to him. After a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar loss, I doubted Caleb was ready to talk. And, I was on Greyson's tour. I ignored the call and pocketed my phone. I would have to face him eventually, but not now.

I continued my tour along the wall of monitors. In one, I observed workers moving stacks of money in a sterile room. In another, I spied a man and woman making out in the lobby. I stopped and gave them a second peek. Greyson had stepped close to me and viewed the monitor too.

"This is nothing. Sometimes the camera catches couples who don't make it to their rooms."

"Really? They just go at it wherever they happen to be?"

He smiled. "Unless we reach them in time to prevent it."

I wasn't sure I wanted to see all that so I continued on my path. Something caught my eye. I stepped back and bumped into Greyson. He held me in place so I wouldn't topple over.

I leaned closer to the monitor. "I recognize him. He was standing in the parking lot across the alley when we left the theater."

I don't know what made me notice him. There was something still and calm about him; like a person watching and waiting, not caring how long it took. The man that had been leaning against the car behind the theater was now standing outside the casino, staring dead center into the security camera. Greyson glanced at the monitor. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He tightened his grip on my waist.

"Hey, there's no reason to give me a bruise."

"Sorry." He released me and called the security manager over. "Bring him in," he said, pointing to the monitor.

"I only said I saw him at the theater. Why do you want to bring him in?"

"I have outstanding business with him."

"Who is he?"

"I thought I knew the answer to that question, but I seem to be mistaken."

Greyson turned to the security manager. "He's already moved out of camera range. Make sure to find him and keep security on alert."

The manager nodded and was already giving orders through his radio.

Greyson blew a calming breath and looked over at me. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, sure. Don't you want to know if they find him?"

"I already know they won't. Let's not think about him." His hand rested in the small of my back. "Let's go to the restaurant. I'll buy dinner."

"I can't say no to that."

He guided me through the back hallways, around the casino floor, and into one of the fancier restaurants. Crisp white linens covered the tables and a person designated to remove the crumbs after each course stood ready and waiting.

"We can't go in there," I said.

"Why not?"

"Because we aren't dressed appropriately."

"They'll serve us."

"Only because you're the boss. I wouldn't feel comfortable. You can't go throwing your money at people and buy your way."

"Most people like it when I throw money at them." A playful smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

"I don't want to be a part of your money-throwing," I said.

A little of my stubbornness was showing through. But I didn't feel comfortable in a setting where I was way underdressed—and outclassed too, with a man who could easily fit in any situation life threw him.

"Where would you like to go?"

"I could go for a gigantic burger with fries."

He laughed. "You don't care about me throwing my money around; you just want a burger. Let's go," he said, taking my hand.

I noticed my hand was becoming comfortable in his. Instead of his touches knocking out my breath each time, now it was more of a zing—with oxygen still being allowed to flow to my brain. I welcomed the change since I appreciated my brain cells and would like them to stay healthy.

We strolled into a restaurant that appeared to be under water. Colorful tropical fish swam in the glass walls and darted back and forth.

Caleb was seated at a corner booth with Catarina draped on his arm. His jaw was visibly clenched, but he made no attempt to remove Catarina from his side. So much for Lupier and Greyson; now she'd glommed on to Caleb. I briefly wondered at her indiscretion, hopping from man to man. Then I realized I didn't care.

"Greyson, I hope you don't mind, but I think Catarina found your replacement."

He observed the couple in the booth and chuckled. "Do you want to stay or go?"

"Let's stay. I'm famished."

Caleb glanced up from his menu. Our eyes caught for a moment, but it felt uncomfortably longer. Greyson slid his hand to the small of my back, showing me to a booth at the other end of the diner. We both scooted in.

Service was noticeably better while dining with Greyson. We ordered within seconds of sitting down, and they had the food to our table in five minutes.

"The staff knows you, don't they?" I asked as I chomped down on a fry.

"I make it a point to know my staff and to climb down from my tower as much as possible." He winked. "Why?"

"No reason. It was just an observation."

"Tell me about yourself."

"Hmm . . . I play poker for a living. I help Frankie out two days a week at the chapel where I also live. My parents live back home in Colorado. My life is really routine. I have a notion that will change now that Frankie has appointed himself as my manager." I shuddered.

"Where did you learn the card-tossing tricks?"

"I didn't have much of a life in high school. I had a handful of close friends, but my hobby was poker and my friends didn't understand. So, while they were off being girls, I was learning my newest trick in the basement. But I made money by betting with my dad's friends. They bet me I couldn't do a trick, and I bet them I could. Most of the time, they owed me."

Greyson cracked a smile.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. Just a visual of you as a teenager popped into my head. But don't worry, it was a cute image."

"It's really not cute. What about you? Tell me about the Greyson Miller that isn't found in the pages of _Forbes_."

"There isn't anything fascinating about me."

"You saying that only confirms my suspicion there is."

I studied his face, and my eyes drifted to his hair. His dark hair would look sexy tousled from bedroom activities. I would love to run my fingers through his hair, curl them in his thick locks, and lead his lips to mine. _Whoa!_ Where did that come from? Maybe I _should_ go see a doctor about my head.

Greyson shifted in his seat. His leg moved against mine. Heat traveled the length of my leg and didn't stop.

"I bet," I said to Greyson, trying to regain my composure, "you eat an entire bag of jelly beans at Easter, and you love roller-coaster rides. You probably had a dog growing up. His name was . . . Artie."

Greyson laughed. "I hate jelly beans. I do like rollercoasters but haven't been on one in about fifteen years, and I had a dog named Sammy."

"That wasn't so hard. I now know three things about you that magazine readers don't."

He touched my hand that was resting on the table. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, I inhaled the burger. I think I need to leave before I eat the dessert case."

"Do you want dessert to go? It's going to be a long night."

I gave a half smile. "In that case, can you buy me one of everything?"

"I didn't have to twist your arm or anything."

"I'm easy to please."

We were left standing with four boxes, each packed full with slices of pies and cakes.

"I was kidding," I sputtered. "You're going to have to help me eat these."

"They're all yours."

I caught a glimpse of Caleb and Catarina as we left the diner. Her fingers were drifting along his arm. Caleb looked up in time to see Greyson and me leave. His face never changed. It was either his stone-hard poker face or he couldn't care less.

Sometimes, I hate poker.

* * *

We deposited the dessert boxes onto the kitchen counter.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Greyson asked as he walked the length of the room to pick up the remote.

"Okay," I said, ogling Greyson as he walked.

Greyson handed me the remote. "Pick whatever you want."

"What if it's really girly?" I asked as I sat on the couch.

The girliest I'll watch is a romantic comedy. Any girlier and I become nauseated from the sappiness. I was just testing the boundaries to see what he would say.

He placed himself next to me. "Girly is fine."

His phone buzzed. "They didn't find him," he said, reading the message.

"The guy in the camera?"

He nodded. "I didn't think they would."

"Who is he?"

"No one important enough to worry about," he said, hooking his arm around me to lean on him while I flipped through the movie choices.

I couldn't concentrate on the movie listings when I was tucked against Greyson.

There was a knock on the door. Greyson slipped out from my weight, freeing me from his mind-control hold. He kissed the top of my head as he stood. A happy tingle trickled through my scalp. He was going to have to stop doing caring little things if we were going to make it another twenty-two hours together with our clothes still on. But right now, I wouldn't mind if they were scattered all over the floor.

Greyson opened the door to let Jason and Steffi in. Jason was disheveled and clearly stressed. Even his clothes were rumpled as if he'd slept in them. He cast his gaze in my direction and then at Greyson. Greyson didn't give him an explanation for my presence.

"I've been trying to get in touch with you all night," Jason said to Greyson. "I didn't realize you had company and didn't want to be disturbed." He shot another glance in my direction.

I hoped he didn't think I was one of Greyson's disposable girls. Just the thought of it made my teeth grind.

"What do you need?" Greyson asked.

"It's about the tournament fiasco. Insurance will cover the loss, but the police are questioning Jeff's employment with us."

"He wasn't employed with us."

"According to our books, he is."

Greyson's eyes narrowed. "Find me his employment information. I want to know who hired him and why."

Jason nodded and left with Steffi. Greyson stood still; his thoughts were elsewhere.

"You wouldn't have hired that Jeff guy, would you?" I asked him.

"No, that guy was bad. I still can't figure out how he fits in with the theft."

"Maybe he was partners with someone and the partner decided he wanted all the money for himself."

"If that was true, wouldn't they just kill him after he helped transfer the money out of the building? It must have taken a lot of planning to move the money out the door without anyone seeing anything," Greyson said.

"And a working knowledge of your security system."

"You may be right. I've been thinking of all the angles. I didn't want to believe the most obvious because I never assumed it would be possible. The theft might have been an inside job. The person who hired Jeff might be the thief."

"It would explain how the theft could be pulled off without a single camera capturing anything."

"Right now it's not even about the money but the security breech. I can't believe this could happen on my watch."

"Could the guy you're looking for have anything to do with this?" I asked.

"I hope not. Like I said before, I didn't know him like I thought I did."

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I slipped it out to see an unknown caller. I gazed up at Greyson who was closer to me than my father would have appreciated. But I appreciated it!

"Go ahead and take it if you want," he said.

I answered. "Hello?"

"Nadia?" asked a male voice.

"Yes, this is Nadia"

"I need a favor."

"Who is this?"

"Are you alone?"

"No, and you're creeping me out."

"Are you with Greyson?"

"He's here. Do you want to speak to him?"

"Tell him you need to go home and feed Gus."

"Gus! Oh, shit! I forgot to feed Gus."

The man hung up.

"Who was that?" Greyson's eyes expressed concern.

"I have no idea, but I need to feed Gus."

"Is Gus a dog?"

"No, he's my cat. He'll eat my couch if I don't feed him."

"You're kidding, right?"

"If you come with me you can see for yourself."

"All right, let's go. I've never seen a couch-eating cat before."

* * *

I opened my apartment door slowly, peeking around the door to see Gus. I didn't see anything, so I opened the door farther and let Greyson go in first.

"I have a feeling you're afraid of your cat."

"Only when he's dieting."

"If he's that scary, why bother putting him on one?"

"The vet told me to."

"Ah." His voice told me he wasn't quite sure what to make of me or my cat.

My phone vibrated again; it was an unknown caller.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Give Greyson the envelope on the table."

"What envelope?"

"You'll see," he said and hung up.

I studied the table where a plain envelope rested on it. I knew it wasn't one of mine.

"Uh, Greyson, that envelope is for you."

Greyson followed my gaze to the table. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea. A man just called and said the envelope on the table was for you."

Greyson peered down at it. His fingers touched the edge of the envelope.

A low growl made us both freeze. I crept over to the bedroom where the growl came from. A large box sat on my bed. I could sense Greyson behind me, but it didn't make me brave enough to open the box.

"What do you think is in the box?" I asked, thinking I already knew the answer and wasn't willing to risk my life to open it and find out.

"I just texted Remy to come up."

"What will Remy do?"

"He was in special ops. He knows more things than I care to know."

"Why is he working for you?"

"He was working with my brother, David, before he went missing. Since then, Remy's decided to stick close to me. Well, that and I pay him way too much money."

"No, you don't," Remy said behind Greyson.

I jumped, but Greyson didn't even flinch. Remy pushed past us and surveyed the box. He listened and then carefully lifted a flap.

Mmrreeerrr.

Gus flew out of the box, claws out, and latched himself to Remy's thigh. Remy winced in pain.

"Is this yours?" he asked, trying to detach Gus.

"Oh, Gus!" I dashed out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Whipping open the refrigerator door, I snatched a package of hot dogs. I hurried to the bedroom to bait Gus with his beloved snack.

Gus's head snapped to attention as I wiggled a hot dog in front of him. He withdrew his claws and jumped to the floor. He scarfed down the hot dog with a fierce grunt.

"Remy, I'm so sorry," I said. "Do you need a bandage or something?"

He glared down at Gus. "Just keep him away from me," he said as he tromped out.

"Do you think he'll be mad for long?" I asked Greyson.

"He's been through worse. A kitty scratch doesn't even compare."

"But still, I feel bad."

Gus batted the hot-dog package out of my hand. I bent to pick it up before he could snatch another one, but he plopped down on the package to guard it and hissed at my hand. I popped up with my fingers still intact.

"You win, Gus. No more diet for you."

Greyson backed out of the room, and I followed, leaving Gus to his hot dogs.

Greyson picked up the envelope on the way out the door.

"Are you going to open it?" I asked as I slipped into the limo.

"Do you have any idea who it's from?" he asked.

"I have no idea. But he knew I was with you, and he knew where I lived. He didn't shoot my cat, so he can't be a horrible person."

Greyson opened the envelope and read the enclosed letter.

"Well?" I asked.

He handed me the paper to read.

Your money is fake.

Chapter 9

I turned the note over to see if there was anything else written. "What does this note mean?"

"I believe someone is telling me counterfeit money is being laundered through the casino. It's the only thing I can think of."

"Can that happen?"

"Right now, it seems like anything is possible."

"You have some serious security issues."

He ground his teeth. "How the hell can this be happening? I monitor everything in the casino."

"But you're not on property all the time. You constantly have meetings off-site."

"True." He ran his fingers through his hair.

I handed him back his letter. "I don't suppose there would be fingerprints on this."

"Probably not."

"Do you know who is behind this letter?"

"I'm sure I do."

"That's good. If you think you know who gave you the letter, then you're one step closer to figuring it out. Are you going to go to the police?"

He shook his head. "Not right now. It would create a big scandal and media frenzy. No one would trust the money coming out of the casino, and we would take a tremendous hit. I don't know if the casino could survive. I want to get to the bottom of this first and then turn it over to the police."

"You have cameras in the room with the safe. Can't you review the footage?"

"Yes, and I'll need to begin right away. Any more delay and this could blow up in my face." He eyed me. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you don't want to be bothered with this. Would you rather go to someone else's place to wait out your remaining time?"

I tried to think of a place I would rather be, but even at home with Gus didn't seem like a good idea. "No, I'll help you. It will keep me awake."

* * *

Greyson led the way to the security room. He accessed it with his keycard and flung the door open. All eyes briefly turned to him and then back to their assigned monitors. The security supervisor hurried over.

"I want footage from all the cameras in the safe, counting room, and hallways leading to it," Greyson growled in a harsh whisper.

"Uh, sir, is there something wrong?"

"Yes, there's something wrong! Bring me all the footage immediately. I want as much as you have."

"Sir?"

"Immediately!" Greyson barked.

He led me out, letting the door slam behind us. I trailed Greyson to the elevator and into his penthouse. His jaw was set hard and his eyes fierce. He closed the door with his hand fisted around the doorknob. So, this was the hard and fierce businessman, Greyson Miller.

I had an urge, so I gave into it. I turned around, flung my arms around Greyson, and gave him a hug. He was momentarily surprised but then returned the hug. I was a little surprised by my actions too. I'm not a person who goes around hugging people.

"What's this for?" he asked, still locked in my embrace.

"You needed a hug."

It's a good thing I don't go around hugging people because this was just embarrassing.

"I think you may be right," he said, resting his chin on my head. "If you keep hugging me, I'm going to forget I'm mad."

"That was the point."

He chuckled. "All right, I'm not mad anymore."

"Really?"

"No, you should keep hugging me."

I unwrapped myself from him. "Now you're just trying to collect free hugs."

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

A message chirped on Greyson's phone. He scanned it with narrow eyes. His eyebrows raised and then pinched together. "Damn it!"

"What happened?" I asked, glad it wasn't something I did.

"I think I'll need an hour of hugs to recover from this," he said between clenched teeth. "Half of the footage is missing; they're bringing me what's left."

"We can review what you have."

"I have a suspicion that all the incriminating footage was erased."

"You never know. They may have missed something. All we need is the one piece they forgot."

A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. Greyson swung the door open. A security guard handed him a package and bolted. Jason was only a few steps behind the guard and slipped into the room.

"Steffi found the employee file on Jeff, but it's empty," Jason said, fidgeting like he wanted to run.

Greyson pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. "It's empty?"

"Yes. We don't even know what department Jeff worked in. There were ten checks cut in his name for one hundred thousand each."

"We paid him a million dollars? For what?" Greyson's fists clenched at his side. "This is an inside job."

"How do you know?" Jason asked.

"Only someone on the inside would know that any checks over one hundred thousand dollars need my approval and signature. And I sure as hell wouldn't have signed them."

"What do you need me to do?"

Greyson rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Nothing. It's Friday night, and it's late. Go home. I'll see you Monday."

"Are you sure? I don't mind staying."

"No, I'll watch footage tonight and come up with a game plan for Monday."

"All right, see you Monday."

Greyson closed the door behind Jason. His hand rested on the door handle. I tugged at his other hand.

"Let's watch the footage," I said.

"Yeah, let's get this over with."

"You bring the files and laptop, and I'll meet you at the couch with wine. It will be like watching a movie."

A small smile escaped his lips. "I hate to say it, but I'm glad you were conked on the head. I like spending time with you, even if it's watching boring footage."

I smiled and warmed. I was rather happy about the conk on the head, too—just not the headache. "Red or white wine?"

"Red."

Greyson picked up his laptop from the table and brought it to the couch where he settled in. I peered into the stocked wine cooler.

"Do you have a preference?" I asked him.

"I only stock the ones I prefer. Reach in and grab one."

"Okay." I grabbed the first red my hand came in contact with. I found a corkscrew and two wine glasses. I took it all to the sofa and sat down beside Greyson.

"Here you go." I said, handing him a glass of wine.

"Thank you," he said. "I've started with the cash-room footage. There's about two weeks here, minus the missing parts. I'll keep it on fast forward until we see something unusual."

"This will be fascinating. I've never seen what people do in a cash room."

"It's not that fun. Money comes in and money goes out. There's a lot of counting involved."

I watched the footage of workers speed in and out and around the room like the Road Runner. The Road Runner, however, would have been far more entertaining. Greyson was right. After watching a few minutes of footage, it wasn't fun.

I sipped on my wine as people scurried around the screen. I watched the time counter on the bottom of the screen. The time was speeding by, but nothing looked different. Greyson knew the employees, so I couldn't help with identifying, nor could I help with knowing when armored truck deliveries were scheduled. I wasn't much help at all except to keep the wine flowing. I dutifully topped off the wine glasses and re-cuddled into the couch. Greyson brought out his arm and wrapped it around my shoulders, bringing me to his side. His eyes were focused on the screen, but his arms were all mine. I snuggled in.

Greyson put me at ease. He was like a rock. Even with all of his problems at the casino, he never stopped or backed down. He was solid. I bet he could succeed at any job he was thrown into.

An image popped into my mind: Greyson as a captain of a centuries-old sea ship. He would trade his tailored suits for breeches and boots. I grinned at the picture forming and taking on life. He was fierce and unbelievably sexy. His hair blew in the sea air while his muscles shimmered in the sun. His steel-gray eyes glinted with rum and lusty passion. I giggled a silly wine-and-estrogen-induced giggle.

"What in the world are you thinking about?" Greyson asked.

The picture popped out of my head, jolting me back into reality. I slowly turned my head to peek at him. A smile grew at the corner of his mouth.

"Well?" he asked.

"I think there's something wrong with your wine," I said, hoping to make the conversation about his hallucinatory wine and not my smutty mind.

"There's nothing wrong with my wine."

"Then maybe I need some cake from the restaurant."

I hopped from the couch and peeked into the four dessert boxes. The chocolate cake noticed me and winked. I scooped it onto a plate and brought it back to the couch. I bit into a giant forkful and enjoyed the chocolate enveloping my mouth.

"I hope you're sharing," Greyson said.

"I don't share cake." I took another forkful.

"Give me a bite."

"No way." I smirked as I cut a big chunk and shoved it in my mouth.

He paused the video and moved the computer off his lap. "Give me a bite." His eyes were dark with hunger. I wasn't sure if it was for the cake or me.

I jumped from the couch with my cake. "You can't have any."

He swiftly moved from the couch, grabbing at my waist. I turned and ran from his grasp. I took the last bite and wolfed it down.

He cornered me as I swallowed the last of it. "You ate it all!"

I smiled. "I told you I don't share."

"Yes, you do," he said as he took the plate out of my hand, placing it on the table next to us.

He leaned down, capturing my mouth with his. It was unexpected and so intensely welcomed. His lips moved hard against mine. Greyson grasped the back of my shirt and drew me in. His tongue flicked my bottom lip, and I parted instantly. I held onto his arms as his tongue took over mine. I could taste the smooth wine in his kiss. Moving my hands down his chest, I felt the muscles beneath his shirt. I explored his arms, his back, and then traveled down to his firm butt. He stopped in surprise for a moment but came back at me harder.

His hands began their own assault on me. My breath hitched as his warm hand glided up the front of my shirt. He cupped my breast as his mouth traveled down to my neck. My back arched to his touch as his thumb grazed my nipple over the flimsy bra material. Raking my fingers through his hair, I brought his mouth back to mine, nipping his lower lip. He moaned and swooped me up from the floor. Wanting him closer, I wrapped my legs around him.

I could feel the sway of him walking but was too involved in kissing him to care where we were headed. He carried me to the bedroom where we fell on the bed. His hands brushed under my shirt, against my skin, and carried my shirt with them. He pulled it off the rest of the way and lowered his head to kiss the valley of my breasts. I felt my bra clasp pop open. As he tossed the bra aside, he gazed down at me. His eyes were soft yet hungry with passion. His mouth captured my breast. I moaned as his tongue played and teased. My hands moved down to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. He ignored the buttons, yanked it off over his head, and lowered himself onto me. His mouth pressed against mine but only briefly. His lips and skin were warm and intoxicating. I wriggled underneath him with need.

"Nadia," he said into my neck, "please say you want me."

I couldn't get the words out. I nodded yes. _Oh please, yes!_

There was a knock on the door. Greyson ignored it. His fingers unsnapped the button of my jeans and slid the zipper down. His hand found its way in as another knock on the door interrupted us.

"Dammit," he said, rolling off the bed. He gave me a quick kiss. "Stay here."

He shrugged his shirt on and jogged to the door.

I couldn't hear what was being said, but from the stern tones, I think the person was getting an earful.

My body ached with need for Greyson, but I fumbled to put my clothes back on. Greyson returned to the bedroom just as I slipped on my shirt. He cringed.

"I'm sorry, Greyson. I just . . . uh . . ."

"Nadia, it's okay," he sighed, but his body betrayed him. "I'll just have to kill the next security guard I see for interrupting us."

I arched my brow. "You wouldn't."

"I would," he said, stepping closer. He bent his head down to steal another kiss from me. "Everything that happened felt so right."

I nodded. It did feel right, but it happened way too fast. I may want him, but I wasn't ready for him.

"Let's go back to work," he grumbled. "I think you may be right. There could be something wrong with the wine. I've never wanted chocolate cake so bad in my life." He playfully squeezed my hand.

I laughed. "Greyson, what did the person want?"

"It might be good news. The IT department was able to recover some of the footage. Hopefully we can find something useful."

He played the video on his laptop. I settled in next to him on the couch.

The footage was all the same. People scurried around here and there. Stacks of money were sorted and piled. One man cut open a stack and removed a bill to inspect it.

"Wait," I said. "Greyson, it's him."

Greyson rewound the footage. "For the love of God! How did he access the counting room?"

The man in the video turned around and stared into the camera. He gave the camera some sort of hand signal I didn't recognize. It was the same guy from earlier. _Who is this guy?_ The video ended.

"Can you go to the police with this footage?" I asked.

"No, this doesn't prove anything more than the theft of one bill . . . and most likely it was counterfeit."

"This guy must know something."

"I'm sure he does."

"Why won't you tell me who he is?"

My phone rang. "Doesn't anyone sleep around here?" I asked no one in particular as I answered the phone.

"Did he figure it out yet?" A man's voice rasped into my ear.

"Who is this?"

Greyson snatched the phone. "Are you in on this, or are you just trying to fuck with me?" he snarled. Greyson handed the phone back to me. "He hung up."

"Well, that was helpful."

"Can you try to call him back?"

"The number came up as unknown. I guess I could try."

"No, don't bother. I'm sure he'll call you back. Let's continue with the footage."

I sat next to him as we watched hour after hour of the most tediously mind-numbing footage of people coming and going. The morning sun rose after what seemed like a week of watching video. My eyelids drooped and my body sank heavily into Greyson. He nudged me back awake, but within a couple of minutes my eyes blurred and closed. Greyson shifted, dragging me into a sitting position.

"Nadia, you have to wake up," he said.

I fluttered my eyelids, trying to open them. I sank back into the couch and was on the brink of falling into a heavy sleep. I was barely aware of arms wrapping around and lifting me.

"Nadia, I'm giving you one last chance to wake up," a smooth voice floated to me from the happy gates of dreamland.

I shrieked as water poured over me. My eyes popped wide open, and I grasped onto Greyson's shoulders. "What the hell?"

"I told you to wake up."

Greyson still held me in his arms as the shower water beat down on top of us. Our clothes were drenched and clinging to our skin.

"You can put me down."

Greyson set me on the floor next to him. "Are you awake now?"

"Yes. I guess I should be thanking you, but for some reason I don't want to."

He hugged me into his wet shirt. "Why don't we grab some breakfast?"

"Yeah, okay. I'm going to be extremely happy when I can sleep."

"So will I. I'm feeling a little tired myself."

"I'm sorry you have to babysit me. Maybe Frankie is back and he can watch me."

"No, I want to watch you. It's fun. I've never taken a shower fully clothed before. It's a new experience."

"Do you think you can find me different clothes? This is all I have and I'm waterlogged."

"Go ahead and finish showering. I'll make a few calls and have some clothes sent up."

"Thanks."

Greyson stepped out of the shower, snatching a towel as he left the bathroom.

Attempting to peel off my clothes, I found they were anything but cooperative. I struggled with the wet material until I finally won. Letting the garments flop to the floor in a soggy puddle, I propped myself up against the shower wall for support. The water cascaded over me. It was so relaxing . . . so calming . . .

An arm reached into the shower and plucked me out. A soft, fuzzy towel wrapped itself around me; strong arms lifted me.

"Nadia, you need to wake up."

I felt the sensation of movement and a gentle kiss on my neck. A soft bed compressed underneath me.

"Wake up or I'll take drastic measures."

More kisses traveled from my neck to my shoulder. I stirred. A nip on the earlobe brought me back to the surface.

"Are you awake?"

"No," I muttered.

He kissed my eyelids. "You have to wake up."

"Death would be nicer."

Greyson unwrapped me from the towel. My eyes flickered open.

"I know what would be nicer than death," he said, pressing his weight down on top of me. "And all the work of stripping off your clothes is done."

His mouth lowered to mine. My pulse kicked up a notch, and all thoughts of sleep were banished from my head. I moved my hands up his back. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his skin was smooth to touch. I brought my hands up to his shoulders, pressing against him. We molded into each other. His kiss became harder, more urgent. I matched his kiss with the same demand. I pushed against him, and he rolled to his back, taking me with him. I straddled him, placing my hands on his chest to balance me. I gazed down at him.

"Nadia, kiss me."

I leaned down as he tucked his fingers into my hair, pressing me into him. Our bodies intertwined to the point where I didn't know where my limbs ended and his began. His possessive hands roamed my body. He rolled me onto my back and claimed my budding breast with his teeth. I moaned. His hand traveled from my waist, flat against my belly, farther down. I moved under his commanding hand. He propped himself up to focus on me.

"Nadia, look at me."

I was lost in his eyes as his fingers found their way to my center. He gently stroked and teased. A tremor was set off in all directions. I closed my eyes and let my body pulsate under his touch.

"Nadia, I want to see you. Open your eyes."

I opened them to peer into his gray eyes. My eyes naturally wanted to close again, but I kept them open, focusing on him. He stroked; with each stroke I fell further into a frenzy of pleasure. I pulsed with delirious need underneath him. He held me down, pushing me nearer to the edge. I moaned and clung onto him.

There was a knock on the door. I jerked at the sound.

"Ignore it," he whispered. "We are going to finish. Give into it, Nadia. Let me feel you give in."

His caresses and words pushed me over the edge. I tumbled into a sweet release, making me quiver in his hands.

He kissed me and brought me in for a hug. "Thank you."

"Thank you?" I asked, catching my breath. "I think I should be thanking you."

He smirked. "Well, sure. But you trusted me enough to let yourself go."

A second knock on the door made me jump. "You should answer the door."

He let go of me and sat up. "I think it's your clothes, so I should go get them—unless you think you don't need them."

I laughed. "Go get them."

He left the room to answer the door. I stood up and wrapped the towel around me. Voices drifted into the room.

"Where's Nadia?" Mya asked.

"She's in the bedroom."

"Did you two just . . . did I interrupt something?"

"You always interrupt something, but I still love you because we are family . . . and we're stuck with each other."

"Very funny."

"Nadia just stepped out of the shower. I'm sure she'll want her clothes. Why don't you go in and make sure she's still up. I've been having a hell of a time keeping her awake."

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door.

"Come in, Mya," I said.

She peeked in. "Are you decent?"

"As decent as a towel will allow me."

She opened the door wider and pranced in with a shopping bag. "Here's an outfit. I bought it from the boutique."

"Thank you. Do you always help Greyson with errands?"

"Most of the time I do. I like it because it gets me off the casino floor. I don't mind it; walking around in circles serving drinks becomes a little routine. Not to mention, I get pinched a lot," she said, rubbing her behind for emphasis. I didn't doubt pretty and perky Mya got pinched—and probably a whole lot more.

"I hope I'm not putting you out."

"Not at all. You're one of the easiest guests Greyson has had in a while. Some of the women that stay here are extremely demanding and high-maintenance."

I blinked. A raw, angry sensation burned behind my eyes. _Some of the women that stay here_ . . . is it a revolving door that somehow sucked me in? I clenched my teeth.

Mya fixed her large, round eyes on me. "Nadia, are you okay?"

Was that his motive for watching me? Just one more woman rotating through the door? Someone that will amuse him for a while?

"I'm fine," I said, regaining my composure. "I just have a little headache from the bump on my head."

I needed to let this go. I knew what Greyson was when I met him. He didn't have the time nor desire for a relationship, and I'm not prepared to have one with him either. So, why did I want to punch him in the nose?

"Do you need some aspirin or something?"

I gave my best shot at a smile. "No, thank you. I don't think aspirin will cure this headache."

"Open the bag and see what I picked out for you."

I opened the bag and peeked in. I pulled out a white T-shirt that read, "It's Vegas. Shake it!" written across the chest in fluorescent pink glitter with a picture of dice. The tiny shorts were exactly the same, but the caption was on the rear.

"Mya?"

"I didn't have much of a choice. It's cute."

Cute?

"Would Greyson's past girlfriends wear this?"

"I think most of them would."

My eye twitched. I took a deep breath, but it didn't calm me. I was under his complete control. I would have gone as far as he would have asked me. Now to find myself amongst a harem made my skin crawl. He was no better than Caleb. I cringed. They both had me in the palms of their hands. Well, not anymore!

"Thank you for bringing me these clothes, Mya. Can you tell Greyson I'll be ready in a minute?"

"Sure, I'll see you later. I have to return to my station anyway," she said, leaving the room.

I slipped on the tiny outfit and walked out to the living room. Greyson was relaxing on the couch with his laptop. He was still shirtless, and the button on his relaxed jeans was undone. I winced with longing as I steeled myself against his careless magnetism. He peeked up from his laptop as I entered the room.

A smile crept onto his face. "That's what Mya picked out for you?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"I like it."

I narrowed my eyes. "I don't doubt that."

"Let me change and then we can go to breakfast."

"All right."

Greyson stood and set his laptop on the end table. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading into the bedroom. I made sure he was out of sight before I slipped out the door and into the hallway. A tip-toe run led me to the elevator. My foot tapped impatiently as I waited. Once on the casino floor, I fled to the front door. I spotted Remy with the limo at the entrance. He'd give me away if he spotted me.

A group of tourists was heading to a motorcoach idling near the door. I joined the group and followed them to the bus. As soon as I neared the bus door, I veered off and jogged to the sidewalk. A hand grabbed my shoulder, stopping me.

"What's going on?" Remy said as he turned me to face him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I see you sneaking out the door with a pack of tourists just as I answer a call from Greyson to keep my eye out for you. What's going on?"

"Don't you dare tell him you saw me."

"I'll decide that."

I narrowed my gaze. "This is between Greyson and me. Don't get in the middle."

"If this is between you and Greyson, then you should be discussing it with him instead of running away. _And_ it's my job to get in the middle."

"I'm not running away."

He studied me with an arched brow.

"I need some space right now. Let me go."

"Give me one good reason."

"Because . . ." I tried to think of something that wouldn't give Remy too much information. I couldn't see how I could _and_ give a convincing reason on top of it. I glared at him, daring him to counter my excuse. "I have to feed Gus."

"Nadia, though your cat is scary, you know that's not the reason." Remy's cell phone rang. He read the caller ID. "It's Greyson. Have you thought of a good reason yet?"

I grabbed the phone from his hand and answered the call. "Greyson, tell Remy to let me go, or I'll call the police and give them information you might not want me to share." I shoved the phone back at Remy.

"Boss?"

Remy ended the call and backed off. I turned and hailed a taxi.

* * *

I shut the door to my apartment and sunk into the couch next to Gus. He grunted as I scratched him behind his ear.

"What the hell did I just do, Gus?"

He didn't answer.

"I think I made a huge mistake. Should I have left like that?"

"I wouldn't let it bother you," a man said behind me. "Greyson can take care of himself."

I jumped from the couch and swung around. "You!"

Chapter 10

I studied the man standing before me. He was the same one that made the cameo appearances in the security monitor and footage. He was tall, lean, and familiar somehow. His hair was dark, and he had a hard, handsome quality to him. His eyes were steel gray like Greyson's.

"Holy shit!" I was standing in front of Greyson's missing brother. "You're David!"

He smiled, showing his perfectly straight white teeth. "What gave it away?"

"Your voice, your handsome cologne-model features, and the way you carry yourself; but it's your eyes that sealed it."

"Ah, yes, the family gray eyes."

"Why are you here? Am I supposed to be afraid of you?" I was too stunned and curious to feel any real danger.

"You mean you're not afraid of a stranger standing in your living room?"

"Not really. You're Greyson's brother, and I'm too exhausted."

He smirked. "I hope my brother didn't keep you up all night."

I glared at him. "Don't even start. I have to stay awake for twenty-four hours. It has nothing to do with Greyson."

"He didn't even try anything? I thought I taught him better."

"You taught him enough; I refuse to talk about this further. What do you want?"

"Should I be afraid of _you_? You have a punching bag in your room and no fear of strangers."

"It's for pent-up hostility from the poker table."

"Do the clothes draped on it help or hinder the expulsion of your hostility?"

"Hinder. Which is why I'm still hostile."

"Good to know," he said and relaxed on my couch.

"What do you want from me?" I settled into a chair opposite of him. "Why aren't you talking to Greyson?"

"Greyson's movements are always being watched. He has cameras everywhere, and his people know where he is at all times."

"You already broke into the cash room. You don't seem to be worried about cameras."

"I did that for evidence. I allowed the camera catch me so Greyson would figure it out. I can't, however, keep letting the camera catch me."

"What's with the hand signal in the camera?"

"We had secret hand signals when we were kids. Greyson knows what it means."

I arched my eyebrow. "So you're trying to help Greyson?"

"Yes, but I need you to relay my messages." He eyed Gus who was lying on the cushion next to him. "What's wrong with him? Last time, he attacked me."

"He was on a diet, but I gave up. Why can't you call Greyson yourself?"

Gus glared at me when I said "diet." He attempted to curl himself into a ball but couldn't with all the extra stomach. He settled for a horseshoe shape and sighed.

"I don't want you to call him. You have to give him the messages in person."

"Absolutely not."

"I need your help."

"I'm not getting involved."

"You're already involved."

I tapped my foot. "I don't see why you can't call him."

"I think someone is tapping his phone calls."

"If that's the case, wouldn't there be some kind of bug in his penthouse?"

"I'm sure there is."

"And his limo?"

"Most likely."

"Why don't you ask him to meet you somewhere else?"

"Because I need you."

I studied his face. "You're afraid of him."

"It's not that simple."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why did you disappear for two years?"

"I can't tell you."

"The way I see it, you're either in hiding or working on some sort of secret case. Otherwise, you wouldn't go missing and then reappear now. You couldn't tell Greyson or the rest of your family, and now you're afraid Greyson will kick your ass for disappearing and not telling him."

He smirked. "Something like that."

"Does the reason you disappeared have anything to do with the counterfeit money?"

"No, it has nothing to do with it. But it makes it even more important that I keep a low profile."

I crossed my arms. "You haven't been keeping a low profile so far."

"I only let you see me when I want you to." He stretched out his long legs, making himself at home.

"You mean you've been around me before and I haven't seen you?"

He nodded and scratched Gus behind the ear.

"You're not making your case any better."

"Listen, Greyson needs help whether he knows it or not. I can't help him without blowing my cover. Please do this for me."

"Why me? Why not Mya?"

"I can't let her know. I believe she's being watched as well. Speaking of Mya, did she pick that outfit out for you? It doesn't seem like something you'd wear."

I groaned. "She was doing me a favor. My clothes were drenched, and she bought these from the boutique."

David nodded. "It has Mya written all over it." His lips curled. "It works for you. I'm sure Greyson had an eyeful."

I ignored the remark about Greyson. "Mya is a sweetheart. How could you leave her?"

His eyes softened. "Believe me, it was the hardest thing I've ever done. I can go home to Mya sooner if you help me."

"How?"

He sighed. "You ask a lot of questions."

I opened up my mouth to argue, but he raised his hand to stop me.

"I'm working on something right now. I can't say anything about it, but I always keep an eye out for my family. I had gotten wind of some dirty money coming from Greyson's casino. I came back to find out for myself. I took a big risk coming here."

"Tell me what you know." It appeared I was already involved and was going to be riding this train wreck until the very end.

"I know the money is fake and not done professionally. I'm surprised it hasn't caught up to Greyson yet."

"Do you know how it's filtered into the building?"

"I don't. I'm still figuring that out."

I relaxed in my chair. "Greyson watched all the footage, but some of it is missing."

David nodded. "That makes sense. Does he have any idea who it might be?"

"He knows it was an inside job. There was a guy hired and paid by the casino, but Greyson said there was no way he would have hired him."

"I figured as much. So, you'll help me?"

"I'll help you for Mya's sake."

He smiled. "I'm glad Mya has a friend like you."

"Yeah, just hurry up and come home so she can dump her jackass boyfriend."

He chuckled. "You really do have some pent-up hostility."

"Aren't you mad she's dating?"

"Of course I am, but I knew that was going to happen when I left. She's a beautiful and vibrant woman. It would be ignorant to think she would wait for me. I'm actually very happy she waited as long as she did."

"Well, fortunately for you, she's still hung up on you."

David smirked. "The Millers tend to have that effect."

I scoffed at him. "I haven't seen anything to make me believe that."

Amused, he raised his eyebrow. "You know what they say about pets and their owners, don't you? You're starting to resemble your irritable cat, or is it the other way around?"

I stood abruptly. My hands flew to my hips. I was about to give him a stern what-for when he laughed.

"Seriously, you're too easy to rattle. Come here."

I stood my ground. My eyes followed him as he stood and strolled into my bedroom. He returned a short while later with my boxing gloves.

"Put them on," he said.

"I don't feel like punching anything."

"Your whole body is pulsing with negative energy. I'll have to give Greyson a lecture next time I see him. If he would have properly taken care of your needs, you would be soft and satisfied."

I glared at him. I really didn't want to hear about his brotherly advice on girls, especially if it had to do with Greyson. He could probably give a few lessons of his own.

David chuckled, grabbed my hand, and led me into my bedroom. He positioned me in front of the punching bag and shoved the gloves on my hands as he gave me instructions on proper technique.

"Go ahead," he said, stepping out of the way. "Give it your best shot."

I tapped the bag with my glove.

"Try a little harder."

I gave it a soft punch. A smile crept on my face. I quickly smothered it.

"Good. Now harder."

"Really?"

"I want you to beat the shit out of it."

I gave it a solid punch. My tension dissipated. I punched it again.

"Great. Let's switch it up so you don't fatigue or hurt yourself."

He positioned himself in front of the punching bag and demonstrated jabs, hooks, and uppercuts. I watched in awe as his muscles rippled underneath his T-shirt. He was in top physical condition. I could see why Mya was still hung up on him. My mind shot to Greyson. I pushed David out of the way and hauled back and walloped the bag. David called out punches, and I followed his instructions. After twenty minutes, I was drenched in sweat and exhausted.

"Can I stop now?" I asked.

"Have we vanquished your aggression yet?"

Caleb zapped into my brain. I clenched my teeth together, spun around, and kicked the bag. It smacked into the wall with a thud.

David's eyes widened. "Where did that come from?"

"Jet Li . . . and a whole lot of resentment."

"Hit the shower, Jet. We have work to do."

Chapter 11

After David explained the counterfeiting details, and what I was to relay to Greyson, he departed through the window. I preferred the sensible route and took the stairs. I was on my way out the door when Frankie caught me.

"You're looking decent considering you haven't slept," he said. "Why aren't you with Greyson?"

"I'm going back over there."

"Before you go, I have some fabulous news."

"Can it wait?"

Frankie arched his eyebrow at my absurdity.

"Okay, tell me the good news."

"Lupier called and wants you to perform again."

My jaw dropped open. "You can't be serious. I mooned the crowd and TV viewers, and I nearly burned myself up with my own cards. My hair still has burnt edges."

"Yes, your locks are dreadful, but his ticket sales spiked because of you. He wants you to be his assistant this time. That way, there won't be any mistakes."

"It wasn't entirely my fault! And I don't know anything about magic."

Frankie flipped his hand in the air. "What's there to know? He does all the work, and you just stand there looking pretty."

"Uh huh." I was pretty sure that wasn't what was going to happen. "When is it?"

"In two nights. He'll have your costume and everything. You'll need to hook up with him to learn the routine."

Working closely with Lupier wasn't on my list of fun things to do. I'd contact him later; procrastination has benefits.

* * *

The taxi dropped me off at the casino. I stood on the sidewalk, hesitant to go inside. It would only be a matter of minutes before I was spotted and Greyson would be aware of my location. I'd wait for him outside where there weren't any extra ears. If he didn't come out, then I would have to go inside.

I lumbered to the nearest bench and sank down. The hot sun melted me to my seat. I wasn't going to be able to wait longer than ten minutes before I would have to seek the air-conditioned casino. A shadow fell over me. I gazed up to find Remy towering over me.

"Greyson wants to see you."

"Tell Greyson to come out here."

Remy crossed his arms. "I will not tell him that. You need to come inside."

I smirked and crossed my arms. "I don't think so. Tell him I'll meet him at Café Sofina if he wants to talk."

"What the hell happened between you two? You're obviously ticked about something."

"I am. But that's not why I'm here. Tell him I have a message. If he wants it, he'll have to come and get it." I stood to leave. "I'll give him ten minutes to be at the café, and then I'm out of there."

"You know I could just pick you up and carry you to him."

"Remy, you wouldn't dare. And after my battle with a punching bag today, I have the fighter's blood of Jet Li and maybe Bruce Lee. Nobody messes with them," I said and poked his arm.

"That's it," Remy said, grabbing my waist. He picked me up like I was a football and carried me like one into the casino.

"Don't you dare, Remy."

"Looks like I already dared," he said.

Okay, I now know not to poke his arm.

Eyes from the casino patrons flickered to Remy and me. No one seemed to think anything of it and their eyes turned back to their slot machines.

"Put me down. I'll walk myself."

"I don't trust you. You might go all Jet Li on my ass." He chuckled. "Actually, I'm thinking you might be more like Jackie Chan."

"Jackie Chan is a great martial artist."

"Yes, he is. But his movies crack me up."

"Are you saying I'm a clown?"

"I didn't say clown. Jackie Chan isn't a clown, but he does make me laugh; so do you."

"You know I could punch you below the belt right now."

"You could, though it wouldn't help you at all."

"Why? I could run away."

"I wear a cup."

"I don't want to hear this," I said, trying to stick my fingers in my ear.

"Hey, you have to take precautions if you're in my line of work."

"Do all security guards wear cups? Why did I just ask that? Forget it! I don't want to know."

"Not all. I'm keeping my boys safe. I've had too many close calls."

"Remy! I don't want to hear about your boys unless they happen to be your children."

He laughed.

"I don't want to be seen like this," I said.

"You should have thought about that before." He punched the elevator button with his meaty finger.

The elevator door opened, and Catarina stepped out. She stared at me with a slinking smile on her face.

"Well, well, what's this? Remy, are you taking Greyson's dog for a walk?"

_Damn her!_ I flung my leg at Catarina just as Remy turned to step into the elevator. I missed Catarina and my leg connected with the elevator's metal doorframe. Tears sprung to my eyes as a shockwave roared up my leg with pain. Catarina laughed and sauntered off. Remy glanced down at me and shook his head.

"Are you okay?" he asked, swiping his pass in the elevator. He pushed the top-floor button. "If I had known you were trying to kick her, I would have stood still. You're making this harder on yourself."

"I'm making this hard? All I needed to do was give Greyson a message and you go all King Kong on me. The only difference is we're taking the elevator to the top floor instead of scaling the building."

He smiled. "I like King Kong. He's a cool monkey."

"Isn't he a gorilla?"

"Can't leave it alone, can you?"

"What?"

He sighed. "I'm glad I only have to escort you to Greyson. He can deal with you."

"This is what you call an escort? I think my whole middle is bruised from this 'escort.'"

The elevator door opened, and he continued to carry me under his arm the final distance to Greyson's penthouse. Greyson opened the door and only then did Remy set me down. I rubbed my stomach.

"She's all yours." He pushed me forward. "Do you need me to stay?"

"No, it's okay," Greyson said.

Remy grinned at me. "Hey Jet, it's been fun."

I stuck my tongue out at him. He retreated from the room with a chuckle. Greyson closed the door behind him. His eyes focused on me, but he didn't speak. I sighed and limped to the couch. I inspected my leg to find it already puffy and red. It was only a matter of time before a nasty bruise would appear.

Greyson inspected my leg. "Do you want some ice for your leg?"

"No."

"Did Remy do this?"

"Not really."

"Do you want to talk?"

"No."

Greyson knelt in front of me. "Nadia, what's going on? Why did you leave so abruptly and return the same way?"

I groaned. I felt like an ass. Greyson had only been nice to me, and I'm treating him like crap because of what Mya said. Because he had a bachelor lifestyle and I wanted . . . wanted what? I certainly didn't want a man who was married to his work. So, what was my problem? I sighed. The problem was I was yet another woman who needed Mya to go and fetch her things; just one more woman to iron out her needs and then be sent on her way.

"Nadia, what's going through your head?"

"Greyson, I'm sorry. I overreacted to something someone said to me."

"Who said something to you?"

I shifted in my seat. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Greyson took my hand into his. "I've been racking my brain to think what I could have done to make you run away. Please tell me so I won't do it again."

"It's nothing you did."

"Then what?"

I didn't say anything.

His mouth twisted as he thought. "Mya was the only one who talked to you . . . it was her. What did she say?"

I cringed.

"Nadia, what did she say?"

"You have to promise you won't get mad at her. She didn't realize what had just happened between us. Her words were innocent."

"I promise I won't be mad."

I studied his eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. "She said I was one of the easiest guests you've had in a while and most of the women that stayed here are demanding and high-maintenance."

Greyson sat back. "Can I take back my promise?"

"No."

"I'm sorry you had to hear that." His eyes caught mine. "I can't tell you she's wrong."

I put my hand up to stop him.

"Let me finish," he said. "While she's not wrong, it may sound worse than it is. I don't have time for as many women as you might suspect. Honestly, you aren't like any of them."

"I don't really want you to have to explain. I was tired and overreacted. I understand your lifestyle doesn't allow you to tie yourself down. I'd be an idiot to think you would live like a monk. Please, let's drop this and move on."

Greyson tugged me over to his side. His hands moved to cup my face. "We're good now?"

He didn't give me time to respond. His lips were on mine, and I melted into him. So much for being mad. One kiss and I'm as passive as a sleeping kitten. Maybe the twenty minutes on the punching bag made me weak. I should think about pawning it off on someone else. Or maybe I should just punch men who tick me off instead of a bag. It was something to ponder, but not right now. I needed sleep. My temperament wasn't on an even balance, and it was making everyone suffer.

"Greyson, I can't do this."

"You can't do this?" he asked and nipped on my earlobe.

"No."

"How about this?" He moved down to my neck.

"Nuh-uh."

"Hmm, how about this?" His hand slid to cup my breast. His thumb stroked my nipple.

My breath caught. "Maybe that."

He smiled as his finger stroked and circled. "You still have a few more hours to go before we can both sleep. We should probably go into the bedroom and wait it out in there."

"Greyson, I was supposed to tell you something," I said as he unhooked my bra.

"What?" he asked, pulling my shirt over my head.

"I, uh, can't remember when you do that," I said as he bent down to capture my nipple with his teeth.

"It couldn't be too important," he said, lifting me from the couch and carrying me to the bed.

"I can walk, you know."

"This way is more fun."

He laid me on the bed, stripped off the rest of my clothes, and pressed me into the bed with his weight on top of me. As he kissed away all my brain cells, my body hummed as his mouth roamed the length of me.

"Greyson, I really am supposed to tell you something."

I still couldn't recall what I was supposed to tell him. Not sleeping and his deliriously intoxicating kisses made my head blank. I brought his head up to gaze into his eyes. His eyes . . . David.

"What is it?" he asked.

They both had the same haunting steel-gray eyes. Something was hard and unyielding in their eyes. But when Greyson looked at me with hungry need, the predatory edge softened slightly to make my blood boil with the same need.

He didn't wait long for my reply and bent to steal my lips with his.

"David," I whispered into his lips.

His head shot up with widened eyes. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't understand. And it's certainly not the name I want to hear you whisper in bed. What's going on?"

I brought his head down to whisper, "He thinks your place is bugged, along with your limo and phone."

"You can't be serious."

I nodded.

He jumped up, taking me with him. "Let's go to your place," he said with a growl.

Once dressed, he led me out the door. Greyson called Remy to meet us in the front. He whispered something to Remy as we exited the door. Remy's eyebrows flew up so high I was pretty sure they'd get lost in his scalp. He nodded and left Greyson's side to order a taxi.

"Remy will perform a thorough inspection of the limo and penthouse," he said when we were inside the taxi. "I told him to use your number to get in touch with me. I would take you to my house, but I'm not sure that's safe either."

"It's okay. I could really use my bed right now."

Greyson's eyes twinkled.

"I didn't mean that."

He smiled. "Yes, you did. You just don't want to admit it."

The taxi pulled in front of All Celebrities Chapel. We got out, and Greyson handed a couple of large bills to the driver. I don't think Greyson had looked at the bills to see how much he paid, but the driver didn't mind. In fact, he grinned like Christmas had just arrived.

Groucho Marx opened the door to the chapel. Greyson's eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement.

"Greyson, I don't think you've met my friend, boss, and landlord, Frankie."

"Yes, we met at the theater," Greyson corrected me.

"Oh, it's so nice to meet you officially. Thank you for taking care of my star. She's going to make me rich," Frankie said. "But you're already rich. I've read all about you in _GQ_. I didn't read the _Forbes_ article. I get headaches when I read about wildly successful people. You were smokin' in that tailored three-piece suit. Not many people can pull it off, but you looked like a poster boy for money and sex."

I cringed.

Greyson chuckled. "Thank you."

"Why aren't you in your expensive penthouse?"

"I'm trying to get away from all the money."

"Ah, getting away from the money but not the sex." He winked at Greyson. "I gotcha. Have fun, you two," he said, letting us pass.

"Please don't encourage his behavior," I said.

"I don't see why I shouldn't. He was only telling the truth."

"I suppose, but it makes my life more difficult."

We ascended the two flights of stairs and entered my apartment. I closed the door behind us.

"So, tell me what's going on," Greyson said.

"David wouldn't tell me a lot. He said he took a big risk coming here."

"Is that going to make me feel happy he's meddling in my life?"

"I don't know his intentions, but he did tell you about the money." I hesitated. "You know when I talked to you on Remy's phone? I wouldn't have called the police. I hope you know that."

A smiled crept onto his face. "I know. I wanted to tell Remy to bring you back, but I knew you needed space. I'm sorry for cornering you. If I would have just let you go then you wouldn't have had to say that."

I led him to the couch. He relaxed onto it, taking me with him.

"Where did you see him?" Greyson asked.

"David? He was waiting for me here."

He clenched his teeth. "He was inside your apartment?"

"Yes. He came through the window. He has some supernatural abilities. Do you know you both have the same eyes?"

"Why did he come here? Why didn't he come to me?"

"He said you were being watched. And it's probably easier to scale my building than yours. Though I'm sure he could find a way to scale yours too."

"He didn't scare you, did he?"

"I was a little shocked he was here. But no, he didn't scare me. What happened between you two?"

Greyson shrugged. "I thought I knew my brother, but I didn't at all. He left his new wife in my hands. He just walked off and left her and the family. We didn't know whether he was dead or alive. It was only in the last couple of weeks I spotted him and knew he was alive. The family still doesn't know."

"He said if I helped him he could return to Mya sooner."

"We'll see about that."

"Whether you like it or not, he's trying to help you. By helping him, I'm helping Mya and you."

"What does he want you to do?"

"Right now, just relay messages to you. He wanted to make his presence known."

"That's it?"

"He also wanted to make sure you're aware you're being watched. I agreed to play poker against a guy by the name of Dagor Moliente."

Greyson shook his head. "No way. Dagor only plays high stakes. When he loses, he makes sure his thugs hunt down the winner and takes the money back with interest."

My throat constricted. "Why would people play with him?"

"No one dares leave the table when he sits down. It's easier to lose the money and walk away with all your bones intact. He's banned from my casinos."

"Then I'll have to find him at a different one."

"Why does David want you to play him?"

"To ask him questions."

"Does he think Dagor has information on the counterfeiting?"

"I believe so. David's already wired the money into my account for the buy-in."

"I don't like this. Remy will go with you."

"No way. Everyone knows Remy works for you, and he doesn't play poker. It would be obvious why he was there with me. As you said, I want to keep all my bones in one piece."

"What about Roy? Can you take him?"

"No, I like him too much to put him in danger. Plus, if he was aware of what was happening, he'd try to stop me."

"I don't even know Roy, but I like him already."

"I'll be fine. As long as I have money, Dagor won't care why I'm there asking questions. I'm not a big-name poker player, so no one will know who I am."

"I still don't like this. Will the information from Dagor help?"

I shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

"What if I have an invitational poker night at the casino? Then I could keep an eye on you."

"That wouldn't work and you know it. You said yourself he was banned from the casino. And David thinks he knows about the fake money, so why would he step foot into your casino?"

"Damn it." Greyson stood and paced back and forth in my small living room. "This is a fucking mess! Every time I think I'm one step ahead, I get sideswiped by something else."

"Let's just see what happens. First, I have to find out where he plays."

"That won't be hard to figure out. Only a few casinos allow him in and none of them are on the strip. You have to bring someone with you. You can't go by yourself."

"There's no one I can bring."

"I'm going to shoot myself for saying this, but maybe you should bring Caleb."

"You don't really want him in on this, do you?"

"Not really. But he'd be able to secure a spot at Dagor's table without any problems."

I shook my head. "No, I can do this by myself. I'm sure David will be there."

"How do you know?"

"He's been watching. He knows how to be invisible. I'm sure he'll be there."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

"I would," a voice said.

My eyes shot over to my bedroom door where David was standing. Greyson's eyes narrowed at David.

"She's right. I would be there," David said.

"How long have you been here?" Greyson asked.

"Long enough."

"You need to stop playing games and tell me what the hell is going on."

"Greyson, despite what you think about me, I'm here to help you."

"Why aren't you helping your wife?"

"I keep my eye on her. I make sure she is taken care of."

"Then why is she serving cocktails? She refuses to take any money from me."

"I don't know why she's serving cocktails. I wire five thousand dollars into her account every month. She has enough money to live comfortably without working."

Confusion etched on Greyson's brow. "Where does she think the money is coming from?"

"She's never been good with money. Who knows what's going on in her head."

"Why the hell is she working at my casino then?"

"Maybe to be close to you," I offered.

"She can see me anytime she wants."

"Do you really believe that?" I asked. "You know your work comes first. Right now, you're all she has left of David. You both have the same eyes and features. You also have similar voices and carry yourselves the same way. If I was Mya, I might do the same thing. You're her tie to David."

Greyson raked his hands through his hair, flicking his eyes at David. "When the hell are you coming back?"

"It's not up to me."

"You picked up a mission, didn't you?"

David shrugged.

"Must be one hell of a paycheck for you to leave your wife." He eyed David. "This better not be a mercenary mission."

David smirked. "At least I don't sit behind a big desk and hide from marriage."

"No, you're reckless. You hurt a sweet girl who idolizes you."

"She'll forgive me."

The muscles in Greyson's jaw began twitching from clenching his teeth so hard.

"David, I thought you were afraid Greyson was going to kick your ass if you came back," I said.

He smiled. "Maybe ten years ago he could have, but not now. He sits behind a desk all day getting soft."

"Soft?" Greyson barked. His eyes sparked with a fierce glow.

"That's what I said."

Greyson glanced at me. "You aren't going to say anything?" he asked me.

"What do you want me to say?"

"You could stand up for me the way you stand up for Mya."

"I only stand up for Mya because she's sweet. You're not."

Greyson rubbed his forehead as if trying to stop a growing headache.

David chuckled. "Though it's fun to pick on you, we need to go over some plans. Then I have to leave."

"Let's get this over with."

David settled into the chair opposite of us. To bring Greyson up to speed, David relayed some of the same information he gave me earlier. After a couple of minutes my eyes closed with heavy lids. The brothers' deep, soothing voices lulled me to sleep. I tried to open my eyes, but they fluttered shut. I felt an arm circle around me, and I leaned against Greyson's chest. Right before I fell into a deep sleep, I heard David's voice.

"What are your plans for her?"

"Right now, to keep her safe from Dagor. No thanks to you."
Chapter 12

I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. I rubbed my eyes and peered around my bedroom. Somehow I'd ended up in my bed. The last thing I remembered was being on the couch with Greyson. My ears perked when I heard his voice coming from the kitchen as he answered the phone.

I crawled out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen to find Greyson at my table with his laptop. Gus was hunkered next to the laptop, staring point-blank at Greyson. Greyson smiled as I entered the room. Gus grunted.

"I'll see you in a few minutes," Greyson said into the phone and disconnected. He turned to me. "That was Remy. He found all the bugs and he's coming to pick me up. I have a lot on my plate today, especially with David on the loose."

I nodded and headed to the coffee maker. There was already hot coffee brewed, and the smell wafting from it made me smile.

"I didn't know you could make coffee," I said.

He stood and crossed the distance to me. He brought me in for a warm, cuddly hug, making the coffee seem insignificant.

"I wasn't born with people waiting on me."

"What else can you do?"

"I can make an awesome omelet."

"That's what I wanted to hear," I said. I dug out a pan from the bottom cupboard and handed it to him.

He chuckled. "Why don't you shower, and I'll make you breakfast."

"I think I could get use to people waiting on me," I said. "You've got it figured out, don't you?"

"That's why I make the big bucks."

I smiled. "By the way, how did Gus get on the table? He normally can't jump that high."

"He was waddling near my feet, giving me an evil eye. I finally picked him up and set him on the table. He's been vegetating there ever since."

"You picked him up?"

"Yeah, why?"

"He's too heavy for me to pick up."

"Can you relay that to David the next time you talk to him? Tell him I haven't gone one hundred percent soft yet."

I shook my head with a grin and shuffled to the bathroom. By the time I was showered and changed, my breakfast was on the table and Remy was looming in the doorway talking to Greyson. I took a seat in front of my perfectly executed omelet and dug in.

"You weren't kidding," I said as I took a bite. "You make a kick-ass omelet. It's all fluffy and cheesy."

"I told you I can do a few things." He strolled over, kissed me on the top of the head, and picked up his laptop. "I have to go back to work. I'll be in touch with you later about Dagor's location. We can come up with a game plan once we know what casino he'll be in."

"Okay. I think I have to work with Lupier today. I should be free later."

"You're working with Lupier again? Even after the last performance?"

"I've been told I boosted the ticket sales by mooning every one and then lighting myself on fire." I cut a piece of omelet. "You know, not everyone can be as entertaining as I supposedly am."

"When do you perform?"

"I think Frankie told me tomorrow night."

"I'll make sure to buy tickets."

"Sure, why not. You've already seen me make an ass out of myself a handful of times. What's one more time?"

He cracked a smile and left with Remy. As he was closing the door I heard Remy say, "I don't even need a ticket. I caught her last performance on YouTube. You should see how many hits it got."

I would have groaned, but I was still wolfing down my omelet.

After the omelet, I gathered Gus from the table and held him in an almost controlled fall to the floor. I only toppled at the very end when he shifted his weight to sniff the omelet smell coming from my hands. My leg crashed to the ground where the bruise on my shin from yesterday's calamity was already blue and purple. I winced as a zip of pain shot through my leg.

Gus gave me a sideways glance and waddled to his food bowl.

I heaved myself up and made a call to Lupier's manager to see when they wanted me. I was told Lupier would be at the theater within the hour.

* * *

A taxi dropped me off behind the theater. I entered through the backstage door and immediately heard Lupier's voice echoing from the stage.

"No, you can't do it that way. You'll show the audience too much."

I peeked around the curtain to see an assistant floating vertically upside down so her head was near the stage. Lupier lit a fire under the assistant. My eyes widened as the fire engulfed her. Lupier splashed liquid on the fire to distinguish it. The assistant had vanished.

I clapped. I couldn't help myself. Lupier's hard eyes searched for the annoying noise. His eyes caught mine and they glittered.

"Bella, how happy I am to see you. I am going to make you a star."

I approached him on stage. "As long as I don't have to be set on fire. I've already done that once."

"No, my bella. I don't want you to be set on fire or disappear. You are going to take center stage."

"Do I need to do anything?"

"You need to be my assistant."

"What does that entail?"

"Mainly to be near me and hand me things. Small tasks."

"That makes me feel better. I'm sure I can do that."

"I do have one special surprise for you," he said.

"What's the surprise?"

He wagged his finger in front of my nose. "I can't tell you the surprise, bella. Why don't you go backstage and talk to Yvette. She will set you up with a costume and go over the show details. Then come back and I'll show you some tips to make the show go smoothly." I turned to leave, but he caught my arm. "You also need to swear that anything you learn here you won't share with another living soul. Magicians can't survive if their secrets are revealed."

"I promise I won't tell anyone. It wouldn't be fun otherwise."

"That's my bella. I'll see you in a little while."

I wandered backstage to find Yvette. Instead, I found a stagehand fixing a curtain.

"Do you know where Yvette is?"

"I believe she's in the dressing room. Go all the way back and turn left. Go through the doors, and once you're in the hallway, it will be the third door on your right."

I repeated the instructions over and over in my head so I wouldn't forget. I passed through the doors and found the third door on the right. I brought my hand up to knock on the door but stalled when I heard a muffled sound of a woman. It sounded like she was in pain, but I wasn't sure. I knocked on the door. A flurry of noises came from the room. After a minute of waiting, a woman with mussed makeup and dark hair flung the door open. Her top was inside out.

"What?" she demanded.

"I, uh, are you Yvette?"

"Yes. What do you want?"

"Lupier sent me. He said you could get me a costume and show me the ropes."

She gave me a speculative glance. "Are you Nadia?"

"Yes, I am."

Her eyes narrowed. "So, you're the new bella."

"The new bella?"

She huffed and stepped out of the doorway to let me pass through. As I entered her dressing room, I caught a glimpse of a man standing near a couch at the opposite side of the room. He abruptly moved to the door and pushed past to exit. He looked exactly like Jason Biggs.

"Jason?" I asked.

He stopped and peered back. "Nadia? What are you doing here?"

"Lupier hired me for another performance."

Yvette snorted. "Yeah, like the last one was so great."

"That's great you can be in the show again," Jason said, stepping closer. He hesitated before saying, "Nadia, even though it's my day off, please don't tell Greyson you saw me here. I really don't want my relationships brought up at the office." His eyes traveled over to Yvette. "I try to keep my work life and private life separate. Yvette and I met while I was working with Lupier and the directors to get the show up and running. We just clicked."

"Yeah, sure," I said.

"Thanks. I'll see you around." He turned and left.

"Come on," Yvette grumbled. "Let's find you a costume."

She dug through a rack of costumes and chose one. "This might fit you."

It was a v-neck, red-sequined jumpsuit that covered my entire body. I smiled. Frankie would have a fit that it wasn't even remotely risqué. There wouldn't be a moon appearance for this performance.

"Perfect," I said.

"Let me give you a tour. You don't have to change into the costume today."

Between her tour and the not-so-helpful information about Lupier and his obsession with eating pie during sex, I was ready to pack it in and leave. But I still had to work with Lupier. She dropped me off at his side.

"She's all yours," Yvette said to Lupier before she retreated.

"Bella, I'm glad you have returned."

He narrowed his eyes at the assistant he was working with. She slanted her eyes at me and left the stage.

He turned back to me. "Let me show you a few things that might make both our lives easier."

He brought out a few objects that seemed harmless. There was a pole, a hoop, and some odds and ends. He showed me how to hand each one to him the proper way.

"If you hand it to me like this, then I can move swiftly," he said, moving gracefully. "Do you see how these little movements can help?"

"Yes."

"They trick the audience's eyes. I want to teach you how to pass me something that will be undetected by the audience. Part of the trick is to throw focus. It can't be more than a split second. Any longer and the audience will suspect something."

He brushed past me. I found myself holding an object I wasn't holding before. He brushed past me again. This time he had my keys in his hand.

"You see?"

"I didn't see or feel anything."

"Perfecto!" He clapped. "Now you understand what the audience will perceive. Let's perfect your technique, otherwise the show will suffer."

"Are you sure you want to give me such an important role?"

"You are part of the magic of the show. You need an important role. By the way, what is your favorite pie?"

Chapter 13

It was nearly three hours later when I finally managed to escape from Lupier. I hurried outside to the sidewalk and called Frankie to give me a ride. He answered the phone with a yelp. He was in the middle of a wax and wasn't able to pick me up.

I stepped out to the curb to hail a taxi. There were none in sight. I needed to fix my car and fast. Maybe Remy could come and pick me up. I vetoed the idea. I couldn't use Greyson's limo for my needs. I flipped through my contacts in my phone until I found the taxi company. It's sad how quickly they'd become my most-used contact.

A black Porsche pulled alongside me. I knew who was inside before he rolled the window down. I bent down to peek inside at Caleb.

"Do you need a ride?" Caleb asked.

"No."

"Then why are you standing here?"

"I'm waiting for someone."

"Do you want to wait in the car? It's a hundred and ten degrees."

"I hadn't noticed," I said even though my back had beads of sweat trickling down it.

"I'm not leaving until someone picks you up."

"Whatever floats your boat," I said. As I dialed the taxi company, I watched Caleb slide out of the car and advance toward me. "Hi, I need a ride. I'm standing on the corner of . . ."

Caleb snatched my phone. "Never mind," he said. "She just found a ride." He ended the call and deposited my phone in his pocket.

"Give me my phone back."

"You're very stubborn. Once I've given you a ride home I'll give you your phone."

I blew out an enormous huff of air for effect and plopped down in his car. I was actually relieved for the ride since I'm sure I'd sweated out a gallon of water in just those few minutes.

He slid in behind the driver's seat. "You're going home, right? Or do you need to go somewhere else?" he asked as he accelerated the car.

"Just home."

"How did you get the bruise on your leg?"

"Didn't your girlfriend tell you?"

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"My mistake. The forever bachelor."

He slid a narrow glance. "So, how did you get the bruise?"

"An elevator picked a fight with me."

"That doesn't make sense. From the size of the bruise it had to hurt."

"It hurt like hell."

"Nadia, we need to talk about what happened."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"We're going to talk."

My phone rang in his pocket. He extracted it from its prison and peered at it. Without a word, he stashed it back in the prison, clenching his hands tightly around the steering wheel.

"Who was it?" I asked.

"No one."

A silent pause ballooned.

"I thought you wanted to talk."

"I don't want to talk," he growled.

I shrugged and relaxed in the seat. A few minutes later, he dropped me off in the parking lot of All Celebrities Chapel. He handed back my phone as I stepped out of the car.

"You still owe me a weekend," he said and sped out of the parking lot.

I scanned my phone to see a missed call from Greyson. _Ugh!_ Now Caleb was mad. I shrugged it off. He deserved it.

I rambled through the chapel doors and called Greyson on my way to my apartment.

"We're on for tonight," he said. "I found out where Dagor's going to play. You need to contact David."

"No need," I said as I opened the door to my apartment. "He's here."

Greyson made a noise of what I could only assume was exasperation. "Tell him he has a wife and to . . . just let me talk to him."

"Okay," I said, handing the phone to David. "Greyson wants to talk to you."

David took the phone. "Yeah?" David listened for a moment and cracked a smile. "You said you want me to take Nadia out on a date?" David winked at me. "Sure, no problem; anything for my brother. Don't wait up for us." He hung up the phone and handed it back.

"Were you guys always like this?" I asked.

"You mean giving each other a hard time? Yeah, I can't remember a time when we didn't. I'm sure I push his buttons a little bit more."

"So, what's up? Why are you here?"

"I wanted to check in."

"Did Greyson tell you I'm supposed to play Dagor tonight?"

"No, I didn't give him the chance. Have you decided how you're going to play him?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"We need to get information. I've seen you play poker and you're a brick wall. There won't be much talking, if that's the case. Also, I don't want you to win money from him."

"So, I should be more talkative and less aggressive at the table."

"You got it."

"This is going to be hard. I've never been able to sit down at the table and want to lose money."

"You'll also want to dress up. Ask Mya to help you dress for tonight."

"Oh no, I'm not asking Mya. She'll dress me up in something pink and glittery."

He smirked. "That's the point. Dagor will be more willing to talk if he sees you dolled up and glittery. He'll see you as someone he can talk to, and he can boast about himself. You wouldn't be a threat."

"My questions won't match the personality I'm trying to portray."

"Then try a different tactic."

"How?"

"Play the victim."

I called Greyson to give Mya the night off to help me. He sent her to meet me at the chapel with Remy and the limo. I popped out the front door as the limo drove up. Remy stepped out.

"Hey Jet, how's your emotional state today?" he asked.

"Pink and glittery. At least that's what I'm trying for."

He arched his eyebrow and ushered me into the back.

"Nadia!" Mya squealed. "This is going to be so much fun. Greyson gave us an open credit line."

"Does he know what he's getting himself into?"

"Nope," she said, laughing.

* * *

Remy dropped us off near a string of boutiques.

"We should be able to find something here," Mya said.

I followed Mya into the first boutique. I'd never stepped foot into these stores before. The sticker shock alone could put me in a coma. Since this wasn't my dime, I followed Mya as she bounced around the store exclaiming passionate sentiments over shiny material.

"How about this?" she asked.

I eyed the garment. "What is it?"

"It's a dress, silly."

"I don't see how it's a dress. There are three straps and nothing else."

"Two boobs and your butt."

My eyes widened. "Absolutely not!"

"Okay. Let's look at the next store."

I followed Mya to the next store but stopped abruptly. Catarina strolled out of the shop. Her eyes targeted me.

"I see Greyson let you off the leash today."

Mya piped up. "Greyson doesn't have any leashes."

"Come on, Mya," I said. "Let's go inside."

"I wouldn't bother," Catarina said. "You don't make enough in one year to buy anything in this store." She held up her shopping bag. "But I do."

"That's why Greyson gave her an open credit line," Mya said.

Catarina's mouth twisted. "Caleb did that for me, too, for special services granted."

I already knew that wasn't true. Gossip travels around the tables at warp speed. I would have definitely heard about that.

"I didn't need to provide special services," I said. "What you and Caleb do together is none of my business and something I'd rather not know."

"It must be hard for you to always be the woman who follows behind the main act."

Where's my punching bag?

"Catarina, you're sorely mistaken if you think I would follow in your footsteps."

Catarina narrowed her eyes. "You already are because Greyson will be mine before he's ever yours. I'm having dinner with him later tonight. And believe me, it will be a _late_ night. Especially with this little number I just bought for his eyes only." With a sly grin, Catarina turned and sauntered off.

He's having dinner with Catarina while I'm trying to save his damn casino? Something wasn't right. Why would he agree to dinner with her?

Mya tugged at my arm. "Come on, let's go inside. Don't worry. The last rumor I heard was she's out of money. She's borrowing money from people to pay off her poker loss. She'll do anything for her next buy-in."

I shrugged off Catarina and followed Mya into the store. She zoomed amongst the racks of clothes while I milled quietly around, pondering the rumor Mya told me. If Catarina was tapped out, how could she afford to shop in a store like this? How was she able to buy-in at a hundred grand for the high-stakes table?

A prickle on the back of my neck made me turn my attention to the sales associate. I never classified myself as the criminal type, but she was keeping a watchful eye on me. Maybe I looked too poor to be in a store with these sky-high prices. Who was I kidding? I probably looked homeless compared to the ladies who shopped here.

Mya brought me three dresses to choose from. "I insist you pick one of these. They're all perfect for you."

I inspected the dresses. "Mya, I don't know. I don't know how to dress girly."

"Then I'll pick." She concentrated on the dresses. Her mouth pouted as she tried to decide. "I think the red one. It's not something I would pick for myself because I don't look good in red, but you have dark hair. We can add extensions to your hair with bright-red highlights. And then maybe a French manicure; we don't want to go too crazy with the red."

"You're in charge, Mya."

An enormous smiled plastered itself on her face. "Then try on this dress."

I took the dress and flagged the sales associate for an open dressing room. She gave me a once-over inspection with her beady eyes and tisked. She led me to the dressing room and left me to change. I quickly changed into the ultra-short, form-fitted red dress. Slits on both sides made me deduce that improper body parts would show if I tried to sit down. This wasn't going to work.

"Mya," I called.

She peeked into the dressing room and squealed, "It's perfect!"

"I have to sit at a poker table. The slits on this dress are going to rise to my hips."

"You have to do a little tug-and-wiggle right before you sit. Then don't move once you're seated, otherwise it will hitch up. We'll have to apply makeup over your bruised leg. It looks nasty."

"Okay, boss," I said, giving in. "Let's buy it before the sales associate tries to arrest me. Should I check the price tag?"

"No! If you look at the tag you won't buy it. Now, hurry and change. We have to find shoes then head to the salon. We need to be there in an hour or we'll miss the appointment."

Mya dragged me from store to store. She gushed over all the shoes but finally settled on a pair of four-inch heels even though I protested. She was unstoppable. I was on the verge of passing out from exhaustion.

"Are we almost done?" I whined.

"We need to head to the salon. Remy will meet us to pick up our shopping bags."

_Finally, I can sit._ Even though it would be in a salon chair, it would be sitting. I followed Mya, and five minutes later we arrived at the salon. I fell into a waiting-area chair as Mya made her way to the receptionist.

Remy entered the salon minutes later. His large, brooding features looked severely out of place.

"Hey Remy, coming to get your nails done?" I asked.

He peered down at me. "Trying to be a smart ass?"

"I don't think I need to try."

"That's true. You're already a smart ass, and a pain in the ass, and if I could think of another ass, you'd probably be that too."

I smiled. "Oh, Remy, you do like me."

"Oh, yeah, I just thought of one more: jackass." He smirked. "Give me your stuff, and let me get out of here."

I chuckled and handed him the bags. He fled as my name was called. I heaved myself out of my chair and followed Mya and the receptionist to a private room.

"What happens in here?" I asked.

"She makes you beautiful," Mya said.

"What's the difference between out there and in here?"

"About two thousand dollars."

I choked.

"Just sit down and relax. Greyson makes that much every ten minutes he works."

"Every ten minutes?"

Mya shrugged. "Maybe not every ten minutes. It's probably more like every hour."

"I really didn't want to know."

"Why not? It's not like you're after his money."

A brassy woman with short hair popped into the room. "I would be after his money," she said. "A woman can never have enough. If a man is going to make that kind of money year after year, I want in on it." She ran her fingers through my strands of hair, which still had burnt chunks. "So, what are we doing today?"

Mya rambled off a list that included hair extensions, bright-red chunky highlights, and a mani-pedi. Mya would apply my makeup at Greyson's.

A second woman entered the room to assist with the transformation. I closed my eyes and let it happen. There wasn't any reason to fight it now; I'd come this far. This scheme had better work or David would be sorry he taught me how to punch.

* * *

"Remy, is Greyson at the penthouse?" Mya held the phone to her ear. "Make sure he's not there, and then come pick us up. I don't want him walking in on us."

"We could just go to my place," I said.

"I dropped off all my makeup at Greyson's. We need to go back there. Plus, I want him to see you once you're all put together."

"I'm sure I'll see him before the night is over." Maybe not if he had dinner plans with Cat. My fingers curled into a fist.

"Oh?" Her eyes twinkled. "Do you have special plans?"

"No, I'm playing someone named Dagor as a favor, so I'm sure he'll want to know everything that happened." Unless Cat keeps him too busy to talk to me. _Damn her!_ She was probably lying and I'm falling for it.

"I meant to ask you about that. Who is Dagor? And why do you have to play poker with him?"

"He has some information Greyson needs. I can't divulge the whole situation. If I can make Dagor talk, it might help Greyson."

"He never tells me anything."

Remy pulled up to the salon. He glanced at my hair and shook his head as we walked to meet him. I heard him mutter "shit" under his breath.

"What?" I asked. "Is it bad?"

"I'm not saying a word."

My eyes shot over to Mya. "Does my hair look bad?"

"No! Remy, her hair is perfect."

"I know it is," he said. "Too perfect."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"I shouldn't have opened my mouth."

"Well, you did. So start explaining."

His eyes flicked back to my hair. "I've just seen a lot of perfect hair come and go." He ushered us into the limo and then slid in front.

Mya scooted toward the front. "Remy, did you make sure Greyson's not in the penthouse?"

"He's off-site. I have to pick him up in an hour. You won't have extra time to spare."

"That should be fine. I only need to do her makeup."

He nodded. Mya settled back in her seat. Her eyes drifted to the window. A sadness settled on her face.

"Mya, are you okay?"

"I was just thinking about David. I always dressed up for him. I would go crazy and spend so much time. He would laugh and tell me I was beautiful whether I spent ten seconds or ten hours getting ready." Her eyes rested on her wedding ring. "I really miss him. I know it's been two years, but I can't stop thinking about him. I don't know if he's dead or if he ran off with another woman."

My heart broke in half for her. "Mya, wherever he is, I'm sure he wants to come home to you soon."

"Sometimes I think that too, but then I wonder if I'm not just trying to fool myself."

I couldn't say more to her without blowing David's cover. "Let yourself be a fool. There's no harm in believing what you want to believe if it gets you through the day. It's your life, Mya. Live it however you want. If David comes back, he can see you're a strong woman who is able to follow her heart."

A smile crept on her face as Remy rolled to a stop in front of the casino.

"Come on," she said. "At least I can dress you up for the other Miller brother."

Remy collected the bags from the trunk and helped us upstairs. He deposited us and the bags in the penthouse and quickly escaped.

"He doesn't like girly things, does he?" I asked Mya.

"No, it freaks him out. But he does like to look at the end result."

"Then he fits in with the rest of the male population."

An hour later Mya pronounced I was ready. I turned to inspect myself in the bathroom mirror. My jaw dropped. A woman stared back at me, but I didn't recognize her at all. _Is this a hallucination?_ Perhaps that hit to the head affected my eyesight.

"Mya, are you sure I'm in here somewhere? I can't even recognize myself."

"That's what we were going for, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. I just didn't realize it was possible."

"Dagor will never be able to figure out who you are. Plus, you'll receive about a hundred requests for dates."

"I don't want guys hitting on me."

"All girls want someone to ask them out on a date."

"I think I've had my fill of men for the moment."

"Not possible. I love it when guys ask me out. I always tell them no, but I still love the attention."

"Are you still dating Stupid Head?"

"Yes, but I don't know if I like him as much as I did when I first met him."

I heard the front door open.

Mya jumped up and down. "He's here. I can't wait for him to see you."

"You should tell him it's me before I go out there."

Mya shook her head. Her wide blonde curls bobbed along with her head. "No, it's going to be a surprise."

"It'll be a surprise all right."

She clutched my hand as we strolled to the living room. Greyson had already settled at the table with his laptop. His eyebrows crinkled together as he read the screen.

"Greyson," Mya called.

He answered, though his eyes remained glued to his laptop. "What is it, Mya?"

"Look up, silly."

He unglued his eyes from his monitor long enough to take in Mya, then they drifted back to the laptop. A split second later they shot over to me. A perplexed look spread across his face.

"Well?" Mya asked. "What do you think?"

"Think about what?" His question was guarded.

"About Nadia! Did your brain fall out of your ears?"

I chuckled.

At the sound of my voice, Greyson's eyes widened. "Shit."

My hands snapped to my hips, hitching the dress up slightly. "Why is it every time I wear a dress a man says 'shit'?"

Greyson opened his mouth to speak, but I was already on my way out the door. Mya scowled at Greyson and followed me. She fidgeted in the elevator.

"Mya, why are you fidgeting?"

"I'm so confused. Why did he say that and then let you walk away without following you?"

"He knows not to follow me."

"How do you do it? You know, make them understand."

"They'll never understand," I said dryly. "But you only have to snap once and they know."

I blew through the elevator door as it opened. The sight of Caleb caught my eye; I veered over to him. Mya was on my heels. As I stalked my prey, I noticed he was chatting to a blonde with enormous breasts.

If Greyson hadn't recognized me, then Caleb might not either. I bumped against him. He was solid and hardly moved an inch.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, altering my voice to the same frequency as the bimbos he loves to date. "Silly me. I didn't see you."

The blonde turned to glare at me for the intrusion.

"No problem," he said. He took in the length of me. His gaze rested on my eyes. "I've only seen green eyes like yours once before."

A flash of nervous energy nearly broke to the surface. I had to stay calm and play aloof.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked.

"No, but thank you. I have to get back to my boyfriend."

"Too bad." He turned back to the blonde who was amazingly still there.

I sauntered off and winked at Mya.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"I just found us a ride." I opened my hand to show the valet ticket.

"Is that Caleb's?"

"Yes, but it's mine for tonight."

"How did you do it?"

"Lupier taught me. I didn't think I could do it." I smiled at the ticket. Caleb was most likely going to be at the casino for hours. I would have his car back before he missed it.

We exited the casino and headed to the valet. I handed him the ticket.

"Caleb just dropped off the car," the valet said.

"And I'm picking it up."

"I don't know if I should give you the car. It's against company policy."

"You can either give me the car now or explain to Caleb why I didn't have his love nest ready for him when he returns from working the tables. He's expecting a lot of girls tonight, and I need the car to arrange everything."

The valet's mouth dropped open. Mya giggled. He fumbled with the keys and finally snagged a set from the box and raced to the car. Moments later, I was behind the wheel with Mya in the passenger seat.

"Do you want me to drop you off at home?" I asked.

"No, I want to go with you. This is fun."

"Dagor is a nasty guy. And I'll have to play in the high-stakes room." If I showed up with Mya, David would kill me.

"I can help you."

"I know you can. But I need you not to help me this time. I'm not really sure how I'm going to pull this off, so I need to stay focused."

"Okay, drop me off at home."

Guilt nagged, making me debate more about bringing her. She could have been an excellent sidekick to round out my look, but then I would have to tell her what was going on so she didn't slip up. Too many secrets would be revealed and none of them would be pleasant.

I pulled into her driveway. "Mya, thank you for all of your help today. I really couldn't have done this without you."

"It's okay. I just wish Greyson wouldn't put you in such a bad position. Take care of yourself. Don't let Dagor get too handsy. Once he starts he won't want to stop."

I thanked her for the advice as she hopped out of the car. I backed out of the driveway once she'd made it safely inside the house.

* * *

My hands were shaking by the time I reached the casino where Greyson said Dagor would be. I steeled my nerves as I stepped out of the car and into the entrance. I was a long way from the strip, and this casino was a long way from being on the up-and-up.

The décor hadn't been updated since the Rat Pack's heyday. Large dusty bulbs dimly lit the casino and worn, burnt-orange carpets covered the floor. The casino owners didn't have to bother with the latest, flashiest tourist gimmicks. Most tourists wouldn't even find this casino since it was so far from the strip and lights. Serious Vegas patrons played here. Most of them looked like they were one con away from jail.

I found my way to the high-stakes room where a spot was open. I perched on a chair and scoped my surroundings. The players were already in a hand and no one noticed me. From David's description of Dagor, he wasn't in the room. I was about to stand up and move from the table when a hand pushed me back down into my chair.

"Hello, baby."

Chapter 14

I turned to glare at the person who was holding me in my seat. A man in his late forties, with a deep scar above his cold eye, stared. He looked like a man who was used to getting what he wanted. From David's description, this had to be Dagor. I swallowed. It was show time, and I was ready to pee my pants.

My chest constricted as he grabbed the shirt collar of the man next to me and yanked him out of his seat. He planted himself beside me and took over the man's stack of chips. The man shot a second look at Dagor, then scurried away.

"I was thinking this table might be a little too much for me," I said, attempting to stand up.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll show you the ropes." His voice was deep and graveled. He grasped my arm and pressed me harder into my chair.

My stomach was slick with nausea from Dagor's presence. Everything about him, from his oily dark hair to his narrow eyes, made me want to be as far away from him as possible. I had never taken much stock in womanly instincts, but with Dagor, the warnings were clanging like a ten-alarm fire.

I bought in with my credit line. One hundred thousand dollars of chips were passed to me. I giggled nervously as I stacked them.

I peeked at the two cards dealt to me. They were garbage. Since I didn't care about winning, I tossed in a handful of chips. It killed me to throw away money, but I had to remember it wasn't mine and I was trying to help. Dagor tossed in chips too. I followed his lead and slid chips in as the dealer laid down the flop, the turn, and then the river. I had five random red cards. _Mya, please forgive me for what I'm about to do._

I hopped up and down in my seat, raising my dress precariously high. I flipped over my cards to reveal that I had all red. The players at the table gawked at my cards in bewilderment.

"Baby, you need to have the same suit, not just the same color," Dagor said, taking a peek at my legs with vulture eyes.

"Oh, pooh! You mean I didn't win?" I yanked my dress down.

"Where did you get the money, baby?"

I slid my eyes to him under my glittery lashes. "Big Daddy gave me the money before he died."

"You're a woman with money and no man to make you happy."

I threw in chips. "The money makes me happy. Big Daddy liked his _special nap_ times. I don't miss them."

"A girl like you needs a big daddy in her life. I can be your next one."

"Really?" A little piece of me died inside. This was not going in the direction I wanted. I had to redirect the conversation without raising suspicions. "I do miss him sometimes. Like yesterday, I won money at Lost City Casino, but then I found out it was fake. Big Daddy would have dealt with it, but I don't know what to do."

"I've heard about that. I can help you."

I turned to him. "You can?" I tossed in more chips. I didn't even know what my cards were.

"Sure, I know a person on the inside that can switch the money for you."

I bounced up and gave him a large Mya-style hug. "Oh, thank you."

His hand grasped the back of my leg and was moving up quickly. My skin shriveled in response to his touch. I sat down before he made his way too far.

"You must be pretty important to have someone on the inside of Lost City Casino."

"I am, baby." His hand brushed up my thigh and headed past my dress hem. I deadened all my senses to keep me from jumping in revulsion. "Are you going to take me up on my offer?" he asked.

"What offer?" I threw in chips again.

"You become my girl, and I will solve all your problems."

"Does this have to include special nap times?"

"It includes whatever times I want."

"I don't even know who you are. You're not a bad man who makes fake money, are you?"

"Baby, I'm a bad man, but I don't make fake money."

"You know who makes it, and that can't be good." I gazed at him with the biggest doe eyes I could muster. I wanted information, but I didn't want him to catch on to my intent.

"Yeah, I know who makes it. I helped set up the operation. I'll make sure you get your money; I protect my own. I'm only bad when I'm pushed. So, what do you say?"

I didn't know what to say. "Well, I'm not sure. There's another man who wants to take Big Daddy's place too. I wouldn't know how to choose." He can't be buying this. Are there women in this world who have this dilemma?

"Who is he?"

I said the first name that popped into my head. "Caleb Usher."

"He's nothing but a poker player. He'll be working the tables for hours, not giving you the attention you deserve. I can give you so much more."

Yeah, like a dirt coffin. I shivered. I couldn't pull this off any longer. I was losing control of the conversation, and Dagor was about to become my big daddy. _Yuck!_ I stood up from the table and collected my chips.

"What if you give me tonight to think it over? Picking a new big daddy is a serious decision in a girl's life. I'll be back here at the same time tomorrow to give you my answer." With the show tomorrow night, I would have to hurry to make it in time.

His body slid along mine as he stood. "You better pick the right man, baby."

His hand wrapped around the back of my head, towing me into his lips. They were cold and hard like the man they belonged to. I didn't dare push him away and blow my cover. When he finally released me, I gave him a shy smile that pained me to bestow and fled. On my way out, David strolled past me and slipped a note into my hand.

Meet me at your place.

How did he know who I was when Greyson and Caleb hadn't had a clue?

* * *

David was relaxed on the couch when I opened the door to my apartment.

"Well?" he asked. "From what I could see, you were in excellent form." He smirked.

"How did you know who I was? No one else recognized me."

"Your green eyes and the way you walk. Mya taught me well. She used to go through such drastic changes that I recognized her from the things she couldn't change. Like the curves of her body, her blue eyes, and her naturally bubbly personality. One time she wore colored contact lenses. I almost tripped on that one."

I smiled. "That's really sweet. Do I walk funny or something?"

"No, but I'm not telling you anything more than that."

I eyed him. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you don't walk funny. I can see why Greyson watches you. So, what's the story with Dagor?"

I relayed the conversation I'd had with Dagor. David listened intently and didn't speak until I was finished.

"So," he said, "we know he somehow helped set up the operation for someone at Greyson's casino. Most likely he sold them the supplies needed. But we won't know who his buyer is unless you become his lover."

I shuddered at the word "lover."

A smile brewed on David's face. "Are you trying to tell me you don't want to be his lover?"

"I nearly died when he kissed me."

"So, short of selling yourself, we need to get him to meet with his buyer."

"How will that be possible? He'll want me to perform services before he'll help me."

My phone rang. I plucked it from between my cleavage. The corners of David's mouth twitched up.

"What?" I asked. "I don't have pockets in this stupid dress." I checked my phone. It was Greyson. I sent the call to voicemail. I didn't want to talk to him after he'd had dinner with Catarina. I needed a shower and sleep before I could talk to him. I didn't want a repeat of our last encounter. I also had a voicemail from Caleb. I tossed the phone on the end table.

"You're not going to answer?"

"No, it's your brother. You can talk to him if you want. I'm tired and need to scrub the Dagor cooties off me." I paused. "How many of you are there? I don't think I can take another Miller."

"We have another brother named Ian. I wouldn't worry about him. The last I heard he was trekking in Africa. He's rarely in the states."

"Thank God."

He chuckled. "We aren't that bad."

"That's because you have to live with yourself. You're accustomed to your flaws."

"We have flaws?"

"Well, I don't know about Ian, but I'm sure I can include him once I've met him. You and Greyson, however, don't seem to stop for one second to relax. When was the last time you took a vacation? I bet you never took Mya on a honeymoon. You suck everyone into your crazy vortex of mayhem. I'm a poker player for God's sake, and you've got me parading around town finding big daddies."

"I meant to take Mya on a honeymoon, but I was called out. I had to go."

"She said she missed you today. She nearly broke my heart the way she still believes you'll come back to her."

"I'll be back with her soon."

"You saying that and doing that are two different things."

"Maybe you should relieve some of your anger on the punching bag."

"No. I'm going to take a shower. Just figure out what I need to do tomorrow night. Dagor's going to want an answer."

I stomped to my bedroom, yanked out my pajamas, and stomped to the bathroom. Hopefully David would be gone by the time I was done with my shower.

I took an extra long time in the shower, trying to scrub off the glitter Mya had painted all over me. It was nearly impossible. Every time I scrubbed a layer off, it would trail onto a different part of my body and stick again. The hot water eventually ran out and freezing water poured over me. I gave up on the remaining glitter.

I dressed in my pajamas and shuffled to my bedroom. The lights in the living room and kitchen were turned off. David must have left. As I turned into my bedroom, I spotted David lounging on my bed.

"Nice pajamas," he said.

I inspected my camisole and shorts that had a playing card design. "They're comfy. What are you doing here?"

"I need a place to crash."

"Why here?"

"The place I was using is no longer available."

"Then go home to your wife."

He sighed. "Stop being difficult and come to bed."

"I'm not climbing in bed with you. If you stay here, go sleep on the couch."

"Your couch is rock hard in some places and saggy in others. And I'm too tall. I won't fit. What if there is a barrier between us on the bed? Would you feel more comfortable?"

"See, this is another flaw."

"Just deal with my flaws and get into bed. I promise I won't try anything."

"Go get Gus."

"Why do you need Gus?"

"He'll be the barrier between us. I guarantee he won't budge the whole night."

David strolled out of the bedroom, gathered Gus from the couch, and plopped him in the middle of the bed.

"How far can I strip down without you freaking out?" he asked.

"This keeps getting worse. Unless you have freaky underwear, you can take off your pants, but keep your T-shirt on."

"Freaky underwear?"

"God, I hate my life!" I threw myself into bed next to Gus and squeezed my eyes closed. I didn't want to see what David was or wasn't wearing under his pants.

He turned off the lights and settled on the opposite side of Gus.

"Goodnight, Nadia."

"Get bent."

Chapter 15

I had the sensation someone was watching me. I cracked my eyes open to find it was morning. I stirred, and a warm body moved with me. I turned my head slightly and my lips brushed up against warm skin. I jumped, tangling myself in David's muscular arm. _Oh, shit . . . David!_

"David, move your damn arm. What the hell happened to Gus?"

David was still asleep and snuggled next to me, trying to regain the warmth. His arms wrapped around my waist.

"Your door was unlocked," Greyson said from the doorway. His eyes were dark. "I was hoping I wouldn't interrupt something, but it seems I have."

My eyes shot to Greyson and then to David who still had his arms around me. _Damn, damn, damn!_ I frantically tried to free myself from David.

"Can you help me, please?" I asked Greyson.

He didn't budge from the doorway.

"Greyson, this isn't what it looks like."

"Feel free to tell me what it is. I already know what it looks like."

"David slept over, but it was . . . oh, geesh!" Caleb appeared behind Greyson. I cringed.

Greyson turned to Caleb. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm trying to find out why Nadia stole my car. What are you doing here?"

"Trying to find out why she's in bed with my brother."

Caleb pushed his way through the door. His eyes burned into me. "Nadia, what the hell is going on?"

My hand clenched into a fist, nailing David in the stomach. It barely affected him. He blinked his eyes open.

"Is it morning already? I feel like I hardly got any sleep."

I groaned, Greyson clenched his jaw tight, and Caleb crossed his arms with a growl.

"If you don't wake up and explain what's going on, your brother is going to pummel you. I won't stop him."

David rubbed his eyes. "What are they doing here?"

"They're wondering what you're doing in my bed."

"I was sleeping until you punched me. You need to work on the punching bag."

"This is not the time for joking around."

"I'm not. That was a weak punch."

"I'll be more than happy to help her," Greyson said between clenched teeth.

"Greyson, nothing happened." David smirked. "If you made sure she was in your bed, you wouldn't have to worry about me."

"She's not getting into any beds until she tells me why she stole my car," Caleb butted in. " _And_ she owes me a weekend."

"You stole his car?" David asked, clearly amused.

"You hustled her," Greyson said to Caleb. "She will not be honoring the wager."

"Caleb, I borrowed your car," I cut in. "I meant to bring it back. It was a long night and I forgot."

"A long night?" he asked. "I should have known it was you who bumped into me. Your eyes caught my attention right away." His eyes flicked to Greyson. "And she will honor the wager she lost _twice_."

"That wasn't a fair game and you know it."

"She agreed to the game and lost. It wouldn't have mattered what game we played. I always win."

My eyes bounced between the two men. David settled back into the pillow but kept his arm around me, thoroughly enjoying the scene in front of him.

"Let me grab your keys. Then you can leave," I said to Caleb.

"Who said I'm leaving?"

"All of you are leaving," I said.

"No one is leaving until we figure this out," Greyson said.

I pried David's arm off me and pushed past Greyson and Caleb. "Let me get the keys first." I hurried out of the room, snatched the keys and my purse from the table, and flew out the door and down the steps.

Remy jumped out of the limo when he saw me fleeing from the building barefoot and in my pajamas.

"Where are you going?" he shouted as I jumped in Caleb's Porsche, flooring it all the way to Mya's house.

It was still early. I didn't know if Mya would be awake. But I wasn't going home for a long time. They could fight it out like The Three Stooges for all I cared.

I squealed into Mya's driveway, slammed on the breaks, and scampered to her front door. I didn't want her neighbors to see me in my pajamas.

Mya answered the door in her robe. "Nadia, what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry to come unannounced. I need a place to hang out for a little while."

"Oh, sure. Come in. Do you want some coffee? I was just making a pot."

"That would be wonderful."

I followed her into her house. A professional interior decorator had gone to considerable lengths to make Mya's home like a picture-perfect front cover of an interior design magazine. Warm tones, cathedral ceilings, and fashionable yet comfortable furnishings faced an impressive fireplace in an open concept I could only dream about.

"Mya, your house is so beautiful."

"Thank you. It was David's wedding gift to me. It's a little big for just me, but I would never sell it."

"Good. I would hate for you to sell it. It's perfect."

"Why are you still in your pajamas?"

"I had to leave my apartment in a hurry."

Her eyes widened. "What happened?"

"Uh . . . well . . . a huge mouse."

"Ewww!"

"I know. That's what I thought."

"Don't you have a cat?"

"Yes, but unless the mouse pries open Gus's mouth and hops in, he's safe." Unfortunately, it was the truth. Gus would never run after food . . . unless he was on a diet.

"Do you need clothes?"

"Yes. Can I borrow some?"

Mya's eyes twinkled. "Let me show you my closet." She poured two giant mugs of coffee and led me upstairs.

My jaw dropped when she opened the door. "This is your closet?"

"Yes. What's wrong with it?"

"There isn't anything wrong. It's an entire bedroom."

"David had it made for our first anniversary. He said he couldn't fit any clothes in his closet because I was hogging all the space."

"David spoiled you, didn't he?"

She smiled fondly. "Yes, but he loved doing it. I never asked for any of this."

"I'm sure you didn't."

"Let me pick out an outfit. I had so much fun doing it yesterday."

Since it was her closet, I agreed. But I regretted it later when she selected a tiny pink T-shirt that read, "Some knockers aren't for doors." She completed the outfit with tiny white shorts and white sandals.

I wiggled into the outfit. She clapped her hands with enthusiasm.

"Do you want to hang out today?" she asked.

"Sure. What do you have in mind?" I mentally reprimanded myself for not going to work at the tables. Bills were piling up faster than I could pay them, and my car still needed to be fixed. But I didn't want to be at a poker table dressed in this outfit. I might as well make the most of the day and have a little fun.

"Let's go eat breakfast first. It will be scorching outside by the time we're done. We can take a dip in the pool after."

"You have a pool?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Don't tell me . . . David bought it for your birthday."

Her eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

* * *

After eating an enormous greasy breakfast, I lounged on a floating bed in the pool. Mya had loaned me a bathing suit that, once again, was lacking in fabric. After the meal I'd had, I was feeling less than attractive in the skimpy suit.

I slid on a pair of her oversized designer sunglasses and smiled as I drifted in the pool. No cares bothered me here. Mya was talking, but she tended to have conversations with herself that didn't need any interjections. Her voice was so constant it was almost a lullaby. I drifted off to sleep.

I heard the gentle splash of water.

"Nadia?" a deep voice whispered into my ear.

A wave of water splashed, flipping the float out from under me. I plunged into the cold water. Its icy chill shocked me awake. I sputtered to the surface.

"Are you awake now?" Greyson asked. "It seems like I have to keep waking you up with water."

I wiped the water from my eyes and glared at him. He was in the pool with me. I casually snuck a peek downward to see if he had on swim trunks or was naked. _Swim trunks. Damn!_ I recommenced my glare.

"Maybe you could let me sleep instead of waking me up," I said. "Where did you get the trunks?"

"They're David's. I borrowed them from his closet."

I scanned for Mya but didn't see her. "Where's Mya?"

"I told her I needed her help with an errand. She left with Remy. They'll be gone for hours."

I narrowed my eyes. "You didn't have an errand, did you?"

"Not really. I tracked you down after you escaped. Nice job, by the way. Even David was impressed at your fight-or-flight skills . . . mainly the flight part."

"If you're here to yell at me, go ahead and get it over with."

"Why would I yell at you?"

"I don't know. You and Caleb looked like you wanted blood."

"What if I told you we were civilized?"

I arched my eyebrow.

"All right, we weren't civilized. But then Frankie barged in, armed with a curling iron. He hopped all over, asking where we hid your body."

I chuckled but sobered as I peeked into his eyes. "You know nothing happened between David and me, right?"

"I'm still having a hard time. If you had seen the way you were snuggling together, you'd be unsure too."

"Then why are you here?"

"To get answers from you. I wanted to look into your eyes and see the truth."

"Greyson . . . I . . ."

His hand touched my face and his thumb ran across my bottom lip. "Not that I have any right to ask, but did you have sex with him?" His eyes were locked with mine.

"Greyson, you never have to worry about me having sex with David. I wouldn't do that to you, and I certainly wouldn't betray Mya."

His lips crushed into mine. I was momentarily surprised, but then relaxed when he pulled me into his arms to keep me close. The buoyancy lifted me. He lifted my legs and wrapped them around him.

"Greyson," I said into his lips. "Does this mean you believe me?"

"I believed you the moment you woke up and saw David's arms around you. Your eyes were as wide as an owl's. I just needed a little reassurance."

I pushed back slightly. "Reassurance?"

"Maybe not reassurance. Maybe just more time with you. If I truly believed you'd had sex with David, I wouldn't have bothered to find you. I was happy when I found you here. It just proves you didn't do anything to hurt Mya. If you had, this would be the last place you'd go."

"Maybe this was the last place. Your brother is nearly as hot as you are."

He nipped at my bottom lip. "Nadia, why do you insist on pushing every button I have? This morning I had a pang of jealousy I haven't felt in years."

"Well, it helps pass the time, and it's fun." My heart smiled that he was jealous. Normally, I don't go for the jealous type, but with Greyson—who seemed to never get jealous over anyone because he didn't particularly care about one woman more than the other—it made me happy. I had been thinking about quizzing him on why he'd had dinner with Catarina, but it didn't seem so important anymore.

"I know of something that will help pass the time, and it's certainly fun," he said.

"I didn't think of you as the square-dancing type, but I'll do it if you think it's that much fun."

He pushed me against the side of the pool. His weight pinned me in place. "Nadia, you know what I mean."

"I don't think I do."

His lips hovered against mine, so close, yet he didn't claim them. I grew impatient with need. He smirked as I wiggled against his weight.

"Do you know now?" he asked.

"I might."

"I need you to know."

His hand slid down the length of me. My skin danced with his caress. He tugged on a string from my bikini. Then another one. He tossed the top out of the pool. Placing the smallest of kisses on his jaw, I lured him back. As our skin touched, he electrified every spot within a ten-foot radius. Even the water was magnetized as small droplets held onto his skin, dreading to be separated.

"Do you know now?"

"Hell yes." I said, claiming his mouth as mine.

Our lips parted and meshed with the same urgency. My hands sought him. They moved up and down Greyson's strong back, his arms, his chest, his firm butt. I tugged at his bathing suit.

"You're not getting these," he said.

"I want them."

"You can have them inside but not out here."

"That's not fair. You took mine. I want yours."

"You had better climb out of the pool."

"Can you hand me a towel?"

"What if I'm your towel?" He wrapped his arms around me.

"Just get inside."

"Tell me you want me," he said.

"Greyson!"

"Then let me tell you." I tried to escape from his arms, but he held me still. "Nadia, I want you to be mine."

I stopped moving. "Then take me inside."

He gathered me in his arms. He was out of the pool and had me into the house in a matter of seconds. He only stopped once to wrap a blue-and-white-striped fluffy towel around me. He stood me on the floor in the guest bedroom. Greyson snatched the towel from me and proceeded to dry me off inch by agonizingly slow inch. I let the waves of longing ripple over me as he touched ever so gently. He stopped abruptly.

"What?" I asked.

"Nadia, sweetheart, you're seriously burnt."

I stepped in front of the mirror. The back half of me was white from too many days in the casino. My front half was scalding red. If I was able to twist my body, I'd resemble a candy cane.

"Oh, my face too!" My face was just as red but white around my eyes where I'd worn Mya's oversized sunglasses.

"I didn't notice you were burnt when we were in the pool. Does it hurt?"

"Now that I'm dry, my skin is hot and tight."

"Let me go find some aloe. I'm sure Mya has some in the bathroom."

I wrapped the towel around myself. The once soft and fluffy towel now scratched like sandpaper.

"Didn't you wear sunblock?" Greyson asked as he returned with the aloe.

"Of course I did." I didn't want him to think I was an idiot, but truthfully, I hadn't. I had planned to splash in the pool for only a few minutes. But the warm sun, cool water, and drifting bed had lulled me to sleep.

"Why don't you spread the towel on the bed? I'll rub the aloe on you."

I hesitated.

"I just want to apply the aloe. It will be easier if you're lying down."

I stepped to the bed. It was stuffed with pillow-top cushions and throw pillows piled high. As I climbed on top, the material scraped against me. Oh, this was going to be bad. If a satin comforter scratched, I couldn't imagine what torture clothes had in store for me.

Greyson let me arrange myself on the bed as comfortably as possible then placed himself next to me. He dabbed a spot of aloe on my forehead, smoothing it gently onto my skin. The aloe gel was cool but only slightly soothing. His gentle, lingering fingers made up for the disappointing aloe. He softly kissed and applied all the way down to my toes. He never stopped or skipped a spot—even when I pointed out my breasts weren't burnt. He dictated no spot shall go without his attentive care.

"I think I covered every spot," he said as he snapped the aloe bottle lid shut. "Do you feel better?"

"I feel slimy and crispy all at the same time."

"Do you want to try to dress?"

"Yes. I can't lie here naked all day."

"If you were at the penthouse, I would insist upon it."

I smiled. "Somehow, I don't think a charred woman sprawled naked on your bed would be sexy. But thanks for sliming me up. Can you help me dress?"

"I will, but I won't like it."

I propped myself up on the bed. My skin must have shrunk two sizes in the short time I was on the bed. It tensed as I moved. I slid off the bed the rest of the way.

Greyson held up my panties with a smirk. "Let's do this."

I scowled at him. "You're having way too much fun with my discomfort."

"One of us might as well have fun."

"Just lower them so I can step into them."

He knelt down and was treated to a full view as I stepped gingerly into the panties. He slowly brought them up. By the time he was to my mid-thigh, the coarse material grated against my skin.

"Stop," I winced. "Take them off. I don't want underwear or my bra."

"I suppose you don't want Mya's T-shirt and shorts."

"No way. They're too tight."

"Let me see what David has."

"I can't wear David's clothes."

"Why not?"

"It's too complicated. Mya is still in a fragile place. We know he's alive but she doesn't. I can't wear his clothes. They would be a memory to her."

"She let me use his swimming suit."

"You're his brother."

"Nadia, this is silly."

"No, it's not. Can you call her and ask her first?"

He kissed the top of my head. "I can do that. You may as well go and browse in his closet. I know she'll say yes."

I draped the towel loosely around me and carefully maneuvered to Mya's bedroom. Since she wasn't here, it felt as if I was intruding. I padded over to the closet and opened the door. Even his closet was bigger than mine. David had it packed with clothes. Between the two of them, they could outfit an island of people.

Greyson stood next to me. Normally, his heat would have been welcomed, but it only made the burn angry.

"What did she say?"

"She yelled at me for not getting you out of the pool sooner. After she finished chewing my ear off, she said to pick out whatever you want."

"Does he have sweatpants and a T-shirt?"

Greyson's eyes twinkled for a brief moment. He rummaged through a few drawers and found a pair of sweatpants and a Nevada Wolf Pack T-shirt. I shimmied into them. The material lit my skin on fire. I cringed, but that just made my face hurt.

"I'll drive you home," he said, leading me downstairs.

"You know how to drive?"

"Just because I have a limo doesn't mean I can't drive. The limo gives me the opportunity to keep working while I'm going from one place to another."

"Do you own a car?"

"Yes. They're at my house."

"They're? As in multiple?"

"I have four right now, but I'm itching to buy a classic."

"What the hell is it with men and cars?"

"What the hell is it with women and clothes?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I don't exactly understand that one either. Are you compensating for something?"

Greyson smirked. "No, but you're going to find that out for yourself."

My hormones clapped for joy, giddy with anticipation. But it would have to wait. Right now I just wanted to live in an aloe bubble.

We made our way outside. He took the keys and helped me into the Porsche.

"For someone who works all the time you're taking a lot of time off," I said as he backed out of the driveway.

"I know. It's already catching up. I'll be insanely busy this week."

"I would offer to help but I would end up in the way."

His lips curved slightly. "Well, Ms. Wolf, what skills do you have? How could you benefit Rotunda Casinos?"

"Hmm . . . I can yell at people that pester you. I can use a computer . . . although the last one I owned died in a dazzling display of electrical sparks so maybe that isn't too useful. I can make coffee, but yours tastes better. Roy says I'm always good for a laugh, but that's not helpful either. I can run errands, but my car is dead." I pondered for a moment. A bleak realization smacked me on my burnt head. "I should probably just stick to poker."

"Oh, I don't know. You yelling at people to stop pestering me has its merits."

"I'm happy to do it."

"What are you going to do with Caleb's Porsche?"

"I have to give it back."

"I was going to head back to the casino after dropping you off. Do you want me to take the car with me so Caleb can pick it up? Or should I wait for Remy to pick me up? Then you can keep the car until you make other arrangements."

If I let Greyson take the car, I would have to take a taxi to the theater and to the casino to meet Dagor.

"I'll keep it for today then give it back tomorrow."

"Do you want to borrow one of my cars?"

"That's nice of you to offer, but no."

"If you change your mind, you know where I am."

"I do."

"David filled me in on what happened with Dagor. From his description, you were exceedingly convincing."

"I was so convincing he wanted to become my big daddy."

"Do you know what you're going to do tonight when you meet him again?"

"David is supposed to figure that out."

Greyson parked in the chapel lot. He called Remy to pick him up then escorted me to my apartment. I opened the door expecting to see Gus wanting his food. He wasn't there. He wasn't on the couch or bed. He was nowhere.

"Greyson, did you happen to see Gus this morning?"

"No, but I wasn't focused on Gus."

"David put him on the bed last night as a barrier between us. Where could he have gone?"

"Did you lock the door last night?"

"Yes. But you said it was unlocked this morning."

"Someone must have entered your apartment last night."

"To steal Gus? Who in their right mind would do that? I must not have closed the door properly."

"Perhaps we should search the building. Frankie might have seen him."

Greyson and I walked down to Frankie's apartment. I knocked on his door.

Frankie opened the door dressed in a purple leotard, leggings, and a sweatband.

"I'm in a hurry," he said in a flutter. "I'm late for my pole-dancing class." He scurried out the door and locked it behind him.

"Have you seen Gus?" I asked. "He's not in my apartment."

"No. Sorry. I've got to run, sweet cheeks."

"Oh, okay." I said as I watched him race down the stairs.

"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Greyson," he shouted as he turned the corner and disappeared from view.

"I don't know whether to be more amused at him taking a pole-dancing class, his outfit, or him calling me sweet cheeks," Greyson said.

"At least you're amused."

We traipsed down to the first floor. Since my body was tight with fiery pain, Greyson stooped to look underneath the waiting room couch and desk. I stole a few peeks at his firm butt as he bent over. I developed a serious case of gutter brain every time he was near.

We searched behind the chapel decorations and pillars. No Gus.

A lump formed in my throat. Stupid cat! He's a pain in the ass, but I still loved the fur ball. _Where the hell is he?_

Greyson kissed me. "Contact the shelters and vet clinics. See if they've found a stray cat the size of a watermelon. His size will make him stand out. You'll have a better chance of finding him."

"This was why I didn't want to put Gus on a diet. He wouldn't be recognizable if he was skinny."

"Yeah, that and he attacked anything that was a possible food source."

I chuckled, but my happiness was short-lived. "I hope I can find him."

"I hope so too." Greyson glanced out the window. "Remy just drove up. I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Don't worry about it. I have to leave for the theater in a couple of hours."

"I'll see you at the theater," he said. "I was able to secure front-row seats for some VIPs and me."

"I hope I don't embarrass myself."

"It's still entertaining if you do."

I narrowed my eyes.

He laughed. "You'll do great. I'll see you later."

I trekked back upstairs, searching in corners Gus might have hidden. No Gus.

Chapter 16

I carried my costume into the theater. I was still wearing sweatpants and T-shirt. I wasn't going to change until the last minute. I could only imagine what torture the full-body jumpsuit would inflict.

As I rounded the corner to enter the backstage area, I heard Lupier talking in harsh whispers to Catarina. He spotted me as I entered. His smile of greeting disintegrated as he surveyed my oversized sweatpants and scorched skin. His lips tightened into a thin line.

Catarina barked with laughter. "Did anyone order lobster?"

"Catarina, we'll talk later," Lupier said in a tone that directed her to disappear.

"We'll settle this later," she said. Before she sauntered out the door, she smiled sweetly at me. "By the way, Nadia, dinner with Greyson was wonderful. The best part was _dessert_."

I glared at her as she retreated out the door. "Why was Catarina here?" I asked.

"It's not important. What happened to you?"

"I fell asleep in the sun."

"You fell asleep in the Vegas sun? Are you stupid?"

My teeth ground together. "No, I'm not. It was an accident."

"You look ridiculous." He gestured to me. "Like a ridiculous raccoon. How could you do this?" His eyes zapped to my raccoon eyes. "You are no longer bella and no longer my assistant! You will be the one to disappear."

"Not into the fire," I gulped. "I'm already burnt to a crisp."

I watched anger twist his face. His jaw was rigid and his eyes were narrow; every muscle twitched. I wondered about his anger. Surely, it couldn't all be because I was burnt. He already knew I was a disaster waiting to bring his stage to its knees. So, why the anger? My eyes glanced over to where Catarina had exited, realizing he wasn't forthcoming about Catarina.

"No, not the fire. You deserve the scorpion coffin."

My heart froze into an ice cube. "The what?"

"The scorpion coffin. They will not harm you . . . unless you don't disappear."

"I don't know how to disappear."

"Yvette will show you. I am tired of you. Go!"

"I refuse to do it."

His eye twitched. "You will do it because I have a contract with you for this performance." His smooth Italian accent slipped, revealing he was one-hundred percent Vegas. "We've already sold out the performance. If you cancel you'll have to pay the ticket sales loss."

"How much?"

"Twenty thousand."

I swallowed. "You said the scorpions won't hurt me?"

"As long as you disappear, you'll be safe."

I nodded.

"Get out of my sight." As I turned to leave, he called, "There will be no pie for you."

At least there was a silver lining . . . no pie.

I found Yvette's dressing room and listened at the door just in case she was entertaining again. I didn't want to interrupt her a second time, especially since she had to teach me to properly disappear before scorpions stung me to death. She needed to be extra happy. When I didn't hear anything, I knocked.

"Come in," she said.

I opened the door and peeked in.

"Oh, it's you," she said. "I was hoping it was Jason."

"I could come back."

"No. Come on in. He hasn't been sniffing around my door as much. I think he's a little afraid of seeing you here. Jason's not one for office gossip. Between Catarina hanging out and you assisting Lupier, it's getting a little too close for his comfort."

"Are you a couple?"

She smirked. "We keep each other company."

"Lupier sent me here. I need to learn the scorpion trick."

Her eyes slid to me. "Really?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Did you refuse to sleep with him?"

"No. I would have, but he became furious when he noticed my sunburn."

"You look like a burnt raccoon."

"That's what he said. Also, no pie for me."

Her head fell back as she laughed. "Be happy."

"I am."

"Let's get started. You're going to need time to practice this little number."

"There are only a couple of hours before showtime," I pointed out.

"Start praying."

* * *

Lupier's fake accent amplified on stage grated my nerves. The show had started thirty minutes ago and my number was next. I carefully put on the red costume, wincing as the material pricked at me.

I breathed in and out to help reduce my stage fright, but somewhere between in and out, I hyperventilated. I wheezed in air, grasping at my chest. Playing magician with scorpions made my knees lock with terror.

Yvette didn't use the scorpions during the rehearsal. She said it would rile them. I didn't complain. I've only seen a scorpion once, and it was behind glass at the zoo. Even when safely behind glass they made me freeze with fear.

A stagehand pushed me. "You're on."

"Oh, God." I hurried through the curtain toward my impending doom.

Lupier ignored me as he addressed the audience with a fantastical tale about the horrors of scorpions. He weaved in colorful imagery about those who had died from the mighty scorpion's tail. I'd nearly wet myself by the time he finished the story.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, Nadia Wolf will tempt fate and lie in a glass coffin while scorpions invade. Will she escape the coffin or be buried in it?"

The lights lowered. A blinding spotlight lit up the coffin. Fast, suspenseful music filled the air. Lupier's words raced through my head: arachnid, venom, stinger, tail, thousands, deadly, and excruciating pain.

I timidly walked—what could be my final steps—to the glass coffin and climbed in. Once I was in, Lupier closed the lid with a sneer and padlocked it for everyone to see. His hand edged over the box containing the scorpions.

"Will she escape or die?" he asked with a haunting tone.

With one fluid motion, he slid open the door, releasing the scorpions into a short glass tunnel that led to the coffin. I gaped down at my feet as the scorpions scurried toward me with their tails in the air.

All I had to do was press the smoke button, which would release smoke into the coffin, hiding me from the audience. I'd instantly fall into the trapdoor below me. I was supposed to wait until the scorpions were close enough to freak out the audience.

Forget the audience, I was freaked out. I pressed the button. I pressed it again. Nothing happened. Lupier stared hard at me but smiled for the audience. I pressed the button rapidly. Nothing happened.

The first scorpion entered the coffin, followed by a few more. Led by the tunnel, they were coming right at me. They scurried around my legs and up on my pants. With each crawling leg of the scorpion, my heart beat faster until it was wild and out of control. I had to escape.

I banged on the top of the coffin lid.

"Get me out of here!" I screamed.

I pushed against the lid. It didn't budge. A scorpion crawled on my neck with its tail high in the air. Its legs prickled my skin, sending spikes of ice down my spine.

I screamed as I frantically clawed at the glass . . . my coffin.

Lupier stared wide-eyed into the coffin. I gritted my teeth and slammed my knee into the coffin lid. The glass splintered. I pushed through the glass shards. My actions were no longer under my control. Adrenaline surged through me as I exploded through the remaining glass, throwing myself on Lupier. We crashed to the ground. The scorpions fell off me and onto Lupier. His face bleached white as he screamed in a frequency higher than a dog whistle. He shot up, flinging me off him and bolted backstage.

The curtain fell. An arm looped around my waist, heaving me to safety.

"Another fabulous show," Greyson said, ushering me from the scorpions scurrying around the stage.

Stagehands surrounded them. No one went close enough to capture one.

I held onto Greyson as the adrenaline rush wore off. "Where did you come from?"

"The front row."

"The scorpions . . ."

"You don't have to worry about them."

"The trapdoor didn't open."

"I rather figured that when you vaulted from the glass coffin." He surveyed my face and arms. "You have a couple of cuts from the glass. I bet your knee is all banged up too."

I didn't feel anything. I was numb.

"Let's get you out of the costume and into your clothes. You'll feel better."

I nodded and led the way to the dressing room. Lupier was rounding the corner.

"You . . . you . . . raccoon!" he shouted. "You've ruined me!"

"Your coffin didn't work."

"My equipment is in perfect condition. You're the bumbling idiot who can't even press a button. I'm going to sue you. You're going to be sorry you stepped foot onto this stage."

"I was sorry the minute I met you."

He let out a strangled sound. "You'll be hearing from my lawyers!"

Greyson shoved a business card into his hand. "Have them call _my_ lawyers."

Lupier's eyes rounded as he inspected the card forced on him. He sputtered curses as he turned on his heels.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome. I think you've had enough fun for one day. Let's get out of here."

"This is fun?"

"It is. Every moment with you has been nothing less than entertaining."

"Gee, I don't know if I'm going to be able to top this performance. You might need to lower your expectations."

"Not likely."

* * *

I hurried into the dodgy casino wearing my T-shirt and sweatpants. I was a hopeless mess and had no time for fixing up. I had to meet Dagor. David was supposed to tell me what to do, but I hadn't seen him. Hopefully he was somewhere in the casino. I walked towards the high-stakes room. An attendant stopped me before I could enter.

"You can't go in there," he said.

"Why not? I was here last night."

He inspected my face and outfit. "I don't think so."

"I was here. I'm supposed to meet Dagor tonight."

He frowned. "Wait here." He entered the high-stakes room and whispered into Dagor's ear. Dagor nodded.

I plodded into the room.

Dagor scanned me with hard eyes. "What is this?" he asked. "Is this a trick?"

"This isn't a trick. I spent too much time in the pool." _Oh, I'm supposed to be acting right now._ I smiled and raised the perkiness of my voice. "Big Daddy was the one who always rubbed suntan lotion on me. If you were there to do it, I wouldn't have gotten burnt. Now my clothes hurt . . . I'd rather be naked."

His expression relaxed. "So, your face will get pretty again soon, right?"

I gave him the biggest doe eyes and trembling lips I could muster. I was even able to squeeze out a tear; it helped that my knee was throbbing.

"Listen, baby, we can try this and see how it works. But you need to pretty up again . . . really soon."

I nodded.

"All right, go home," he said. "Oh, and tell Caleb to back off the hunt. As of now, you're my property. And that other guy you were sleeping with last night, tell him I'll kill him if comes near you again. I let him off the hook last night, but no man except me can have you now."

My mouth opened.

A slick smile spread across his face. "Don't be so surprised. I know all about you and your lovers, Nadia Wolf. I even know your cat."

"Where's Gus?"

"Let's say he's taking a little vacation. As long as his owner keeps herself in line, he'll make a speedy return."

A real tear bubbled to the surface.

"Go home, baby. I'll be in contact."

"What about the money?"

His jaw tightened. "You can tell your friend, Greyson Miller, I'm not giving him any information."

"You said you would help."

"The tables have shifted, baby. I have your cat, I know where you live, and I know who you sleep with. You're mine now."

"I don't think so."

"One word from me and your cat disappears. If that isn't enough to make you understand, people will start disappearing," he said with a sly smile. "How about 'ol Roy?"

Oh, shit! What the hell just happened?

"I'll go to the police."

"And tell them what? That I threatened you? You can't prove anything happened. And, baby, if you go to the police, I'll slip information about the counterfeit money at the Lost City Casino. Your sweet Greyson will be ruined."

I turned to bolt.

"Remember, baby. I'm watching you."
Chapter 17

I took refuge in Caleb's Porsche outside the casino. I didn't know where to go or what to do. Gus was gone. Dagor knew who I was and was watching my movements. If I went to Lost City Casino, he would know I was meeting Greyson.

The passenger-side door opened and David slid in. "Drive," he said.

I tore out of the casino parking lot. David entered coordinates into the GPS system.

"David, he has Gus."

"I know. I heard the whole thing."

"Where were you?"

"I was at the table."

"I didn't see you."

"That was the point."

"What am I going to do about Gus?" I bit back a tear.

"We'll find him. Right now we have to worry about your safety."

"He won't hurt me. He just wants me to do what he says and he'll leave everyone else alone."

"That's what he says, but that's not what happens. He's had girls before. They tend to go missing. Are you willing to make him happy?"

I shook my head. "There's no way I could ever do anything with him."

"Your safety comes first. Once you're safe, we'll be able to help the others."

"I should call Greyson."

"I already did. He's going to meet us at his house."

"Where's that?"

"Just follow the GPS."

"I need to drop off Caleb's car. I can't keep it."

"Just keep it for another day. He doesn't care so much about the car as he does about his weekend with you."

"Well, he's not collecting on his weekend."

"How about a week? It will get you out of town, and I can clean up the mess you made."

"The mess I made? You dragged me into this mess. And I won't go with Caleb for a week. Did you run this by Greyson? I would love to hear his thoughts on the subject."

"I know what he would say. I also know my brother. Nadia, I don't want him to hurt you."

"Why would he hurt me?"

"Greyson is all about work. He's not the kind of man who will settle down and get married. At least not right now. He might be attentive toward you, but in a couple of weeks he'll be working on the next big project and forget you. He's hurt a lot of women."

"I already know he doesn't want to settle down. I don't want any commitments from him. I honestly don't know what I want."

"You should think about that. Find out what you want. See if he's able to commit to it. Nadia, don't sell yourself short."

"Greyson would kick your ass if he heard you."

"He probably would. But he'd also know I'm right."

I wanted to smile but had too many worries pressing on me. David was protecting me like a brother. It meant a lot to me seeing as I'd never had a brother.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Did Greyson pick that T-shirt for you to wear?"

"Yeah, why?"

"It's my favorite. I would wear it every weekend."

"I thought I caught a sliver of mischievousness when he handed it to me."

"I'm sure he thought I would go through the roof."

"But you won't?"

"No, it's cute on you. My life has changed in the last couple of years. I don't care about a favorite shirt."

"What have you been doing?"

"Nadia, I can't tell you. But I need to leave again soon. If I can't wrap things up in the next couple of days, Greyson will need to sort it out. But you'll be safe. I'll make sure."

David punched in the code for Greyson's gate. The iron gate rolled open. I drove past it and up the long driveway. A sprawling white, three-story mansion loomed in the distance. A single light in a corner window was the only sign of life. I was expecting to see a valet at a house of this size and grandeur.

"Park in the garage," David instructed. "I don't want anyone to see your car."

"You mean Caleb's car."

"He seriously couldn't care less about the car."

"I guess that's what happens when you have too much money. You stop caring about things."

"Maybe about things, but not about people."

I parked in an empty garage stall and killed the engine. Four shiny cars were parked in the other stalls. Each one had to be worth well over a hundred grand.

"Should I have dressed up? I feel as if I'm entering a palace to meet the crowned matriarch."

He chuckled. "Greyson is the only one here, and he dressed you."

I followed David to the front door. Greyson was already there with his arms crossed.

"What's going on?" he barked at David. "The message you sent me was useless. I've been waiting here for the last half hour trying to figure out if I misunderstood and should have gone somewhere else."

"You're here, so it worked."

"Next time, give me more information."

"Are you going to let us in?

Greyson scowled but stepped back to let David through. He hugged me when I stepped in.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Do you have any beer?" David asked. "I could seriously go for one. Preferably ice cold."

"I have no idea what I have. I haven't been here in six months."

"Six months?" I asked as my eyes darted from the chandelier to the marble floors.

"I don't consider this my home. It's a large house that has my name on the mailbox."

"Then why keep it?"

He smiled. "I like it. It's a nice retreat away from the casino. I'll show you around. We need to find David a beer before he comes unglued."

I had a hard time believing David would come unglued over a beer. He was in control at all times. He hadn't even blinked when Greyson found us in bed together, but it's probably because he enjoyed watching Greyson fume.

We found David a beer in the refrigerator, grabbing a couple of extras for us and a few more for later. The kitchen was all marble and stainless steel, with an island as large as Mya's swimming pool.

He led me to the great room. I nabbed a cushy chair. David sat in one opposite of me, which left the couch for Greyson. He chose to uproot me and sit down, setting me on top of him. His arms were warm and welcoming. I didn't mind the transplant.

David's eyes cut over to Greyson.

"Now what?" Greyson asked. "Why are your eyes shooting daggers at me?"

"You know damn well what I'm thinking."

"I might."

"Then we don't need to discuss it."

"No, we don't."

"So," I interjected, "you weren't the only one to find David and me in bed. Dagor, or one of his guys, broke into my apartment last night and stole Gus."

Greyson grew rigid beneath me—not in the fun, sexy way.

"When I saw him tonight he said if I didn't stay in line, Gus was the first to go and then he mentioned Roy. He knows who I am, Greyson. He knows all about me. He's not going to help with the money. He said he's turning the tables."

"We need to get you out of town," Greyson said.

"I told her she should go away with Caleb for the week," David said. His smirk grew into a full smile as Greyson's jaw clenched.

I shook my head. "That'll make things worse. I'm staying so I can find Gus. What I don't understand is why he would still want me. He knows I'm not the kind of girl I was pretending to be."

"I think he has his eye on the prize," David said. "You intrigued him and now it's a game of power. He'll want to bend you to his will through fear."

"Well, it won't work," I said, attempting to be brave. Dagor was already succeeding at fear tactics. I didn't want to follow where that road would take me.

"Are you telling me if he managed to kidnap Roy you wouldn't do whatever Dagor asked to keep him safe?"

_Shit!_ I rested my head in the palm of my hand to prevent tears.

David sighed. "You know you would. We all would when faced with losing a loved one."

"Okay, we know what Dagor wants," Greyson said. "How do we fix this? We only wanted information about the counterfeit money. Now we have a giant mess on our hands."

"I'll stay alone at Nadia's place tonight to make it appear she's there behaving herself," David said. "It will buy us time."

"What if they break in again? They'll know I'm not at home."

"I'll take care of it."

My eyes shot to David. "What does that mean?"

"It means don't worry."

I turned to Greyson. "Should I be worried?"

"No. Let him do what he wants. It'll keep him busy and out of my hair."

David grinned, looking like he was ready for mischief.

I arched my brow, looking from brother to brother.

Greyson mindlessly played with the ends of my hair. "Don't worry about David. He doesn't hurt anyone unless it's in self-defense."

"Okay, I won't worry about David. What am I going to do?"

"Stay here tonight. We'll figure something out tomorrow."

I nodded in agreement. "Can I go to bed? I'm tired and every inch of me hurts."

"Sure. Let me show you to the bedroom."

As I trudged out of the room, I heard David say, "Make sure she has her own room."

Greyson led me up a wide, sweeping staircase. He stopped at the last door in the hallway and opened it.

"You should be comfortable in here," he said.

I eyed him as I entered the room. It had to be the master bedroom. The room was spacious enough to fit three semitrucks. At the end of the room, a king-size bed sat large and ominous with its high posts. A sitting area surrounded a marble fireplace. I could see a master bathroom off to the side with a sunken tub. I bet it had jets.

"Do you have something smaller?" I asked.

He smiled. "Yes, but I want you in here. The bathroom's right here if you need it. You can raid my drawers to see if there are any shirts you want to wear. I'll let you get settled while I finish up with David. He'll need to head out soon."

"Thank you."

He kissed me and closed the door, leaving me alone in the enormous room.

The Miller brothers had way too much money, I thought as I dug through Greyson's drawers. I spotted a jersey with _Miller_ written on the back and number thirty-three below it. _Greyson plays baseball?_ The shirt was ultra-soft, so I took it into the bathroom with me. I gazed longingly at the tub but headed for the shower. My skin needed cool water, not a hot bath. Cool showers were no fun, so I hurried through my routine and jumped out. I pulled on the jersey and dove between the eight-hundred-thread-count sheets. _Seriously, too much freaking money._ But I wasn't complaining. The sheets were gentle on my skin.

As soon as my head touched the pillow, my body relaxed into a state of bliss-filled mush. I heard the door open. The thick carpeting muffled the sound of footsteps.
Chapter 18

"What's going on?" I asked, not wanting to leave the squishy pillow.

Greyson crossed the room and climbed into bed.

"David just left," Greyson said.

"David said you needed your own room."

"I don't care what he said. What do you say?"

I contemplated.

"Nadia, sweetheart, I just want to be next to you and fall asleep with you in my arms. We've been through so much together over the few days we've known each other. Let me hold you."

I turned to curl next to him. His arms brought me in closer. He was stripped down except for a pair of boxer shorts. The touch of his skin flustered me. I didn't see how I was going to be able to sleep.

"Nadia, what are you wearing?"

"I found a shirt in your drawer."

"I feel lettering. Are you wearing my jersey?"

"Yes, why?"

He groaned. "Nothing."

"Should I find something else?"

"No, just remind me to keep my hands off of you."

"I'm confused."

"It's a guy thing. You aren't supposed to understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"No."

"You can't just say no."

"Yes, I can."

"Greyson, tell me or I'll have to find a different shirt to wear. I won't be able to fall asleep knowing there is something mysterious about what I'm wearing."

"There's nothing mysterious about it. You're wearing my name."

"That's it? I'm wearing your name?"

"It's unbelievably sexy. I told you, it's a guy thing."

"Maybe I should change."

"Don't you dare. You're the only woman who has ever worn the jersey. I'm happy you're the one to wear it."

I settled back into his arms. I was too damn comfortable to leave the bed to change anyway.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he said, kissing behind my ear.

Even with Gus kidnapped and my skin tap dancing from Greyson's touch, I was able to fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

I bolted up in bed. The room was pitch black. Greyson stirred next to me, tightening his arms around my waist, dragging me back to him.

"What's wrong?" he said in a voice rough with sleep.

"I had a nightmare about the damn scorpions. Greyson, I think I know what happened to the money."

He propped himself up on his elbow. "Huh?"

"The tournament money. You never found it, right?"

"No." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "We never found it, and we can't see anyone walking off with it in the surveillance footage."

"That's because it never left."

"Walk me through this. I'm half asleep." He reached over and clicked the bedside lamp on.

I squinted at the light. "What if the money never left the room? What if it just disappeared?"

"Where would it have disappeared to?" he asked.

"I don't know. I bet it's still in the room, and someone's waiting for the right moment to make it really disappear."

"Why would someone take the risk of stealing it only to have to do it again?"

I slid out of bed.

"Nadia, what are you doing?"

"I'm pacing."

"The bed is cold without you."

"There has to be a reason someone would hide money. If I wanted the money so badly that I had to make an elaborate plan to steal it, I sure as hell wouldn't hide it in the same room. So, why do it?"

Greyson bounded out of bed. "It was counterfeit." He grabbed me and kissed me so thoroughly I almost forgot why I was out of bed.

"That has to be it. They stole it because it was counterfeit. If Caleb got the money, their secret would be out. They didn't want the money for themselves. They wanted to get rid of the evidence."

Greyson paced with me. "We're so close to figuring this out. I need to get back to the casino."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not. I can't risk Dagor seeing you."

"Greyson, I'm going and that's final."

"Are you willing to risk Gus's life?"

I hesitated.

His eyes softened as his lips pressed to my forehead. "It's not that I don't want you to come. There are lives at stake. If you took a risk that didn't pan out, it would haunt you forever. Let's go back to bed. If the money is there, it will be there in the morning."

"But, Greyson, I could . . ."

"Bedtime," he said, tugging at my shirt.

"But," I said as Greyson swooped in and silenced me with a kiss.

"You talk too much." He coaxed me the rest of the way into bed with his promising lips.

"There's no way I can sleep."

"Who said anything about sleep?"

"Is this a ploy to make me forget about the money? It won't work."

"No. This is a devious plan where you will sleep with me . . . with the jersey on."

"Do you think I would fall for such an obvious trap?"

"That's why it's a devious plan. First, I'll relax you. Are you relaxed yet?"

"No."

"Let me fix that."

His hand smoothed my hair. I gazed into his eyes. In the dim light they were the shade of black silk. His hands were as silky as his eyes. They roamed freely yet gently so as not to irritate my skin. His lips kissed as softly as butterfly wings, with each more tantalizing than the last.

"Step two of my plan," he whispered, "is to keep you in suspense."

His body was within a centimeter of mine. His energy radiated through me. He moved within the space but never once touched me. It took all my strength not to pull him to me, to kiss him, to take him into me. His lips were near . . . so deliciously near. I moved to him. The closer I came, the farther he moved back.

"Step three of my plan is to make you want me so bad nothing will keep you from having me."

"You're dreaming," I said, even though I was already there and waiting with bells on.

"Am I? I think I'm closer to achieving step three than you want to admit."

I turned to climb out of bed. He arms shot out and captured me, pinning me so I was lying on my stomach. His hand slid my shirt up, exposing my back. My back arched with intense muscle contractions as he used the tip of his tongue to navigate his way down my back. As he continued his journey, my fingers curled into the sheets. He trailed to the back of my knee. I jumped at the sudden jolt his kiss caused. He moved to the other knee. I twisted to flip over before he could continue his quest.

He grinned. "Giving up so soon? I have more up my sleeve."

I pushed him to his back, straddling him as I held on to the remaining threads of coherent thought. He settled under me, shifting so I was on top of his hard manhood. He pressed me down onto him, making me feel everything that was there and ready for me to take.

I was at my breaking point. He was here for the taking. He was here for me now but not in the future. Would I be able to walk away from this night? I'd grown close to him these last few days. Close enough to be crushed by pain if he forgot about me. I can't disconnect sex and the man I'm having sex with. If I allowed him any closer he could tear my heart to shreds.

I scurried off of him and off the bed.

"Nadia, sweetheart, what's wrong?"

I shook my head. "I can't do this, Greyson."

He moved slowly. "Come here."

When I didn't move, he took my hand and pulled me to him. I stayed locked in his embrace. I bit the side of my cheek to keep from thinking how much I wanted him. I had thought I was stronger than this. I was wrong.

"Sweetheart, you've been through a lot these last few days. I'm not going to push you to do anything but sleep. Everything else can wait until you're ready."

"Greyson, I'll never be ready."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't be like the other women. I'm not that girl. My life doesn't revolve around men, or pretty things, or money. My life is sitting at a poker table, making my own way, and making my own lousy money. I can't be the girl who is there one day and gone the next."

"I'd never want you to be that girl nor expect you to be that girl. Nadia, I can't make promises I have no guarantee of keeping. If you want to slow things down, then that's what will happen. You call the shots."

"Then hurry up and change. I'm going to the casino."

"You need more sleep."

I glanced down at his boxer shorts and winced. "There's no way I'll be able to sleep. Can't you sneak me in the back?"

"You win. Let's go."
Chapter 19

Greyson drove up near the rear entrance of the casino. I was thankful to be out of his bedroom but concerned about Dagor finding me. My curiosity about the vanishing money shoved those thoughts to the back.

Greyson used his key card to access the back door, leading me through the back hallways. His stride was long and quick. I hurried to follow his footsteps. He swiped his key card once again to unlock the tournament room.

"Has this room been used since the tournament?"

"No. It's set up for televised games. This isn't a room that would be used on a daily basis. We purchased the cameras and technology to make this operational. The table has tiny cameras built in to view the players' cards."

"Where could the money be hidden?" I pondered out loud. "The money was piled on the table when the lights went off. They had to do it fast. Security was already on the way with the flashlights."

We stood in the room, surveying the area. The poker table sat in the middle of the room. Audience chairs surrounded two sides of the table, and cameras surrounded the remaining two sides.

"It has to be somewhere in the middle of the room," I said. "They wouldn't have been able to hide it in the seating section since it was filled with the audience. There wouldn't be any place to hide it by the cameras because it's all open space."

Greyson smoothed his hand over the tabletop. "There aren't any marks or lines on the felt. If the table opened up, the felt would have been ripped or cut."

I kneeled to inspect the carpet. My hand skimmed the floor, hoping to find a seam. After ten minutes of looking, I gave up.

"Damn it," I said. "I know it's in here. I can feel it."

"You can feel it?"

"Yes, the universe is telling me it's here." I tried to keep a straight face but ended up laughing. I needed to go back to work. My poker face was suffering from lack of practice.

I traced my finger around the poker table's edge. There were six tiny glass windows on the tabletop where a camera was hidden underneath each one. As the players place their cards facedown on the table, the cameras show the viewers at home what cards each player has.

"How are these small cameras mounted?"

"It's all wired underneath."

I knelt and scooted under the table. I examined each camera mounted to the underside. The wires ran into a metal box located in the center. I felt around the box's rim. To make the money disappear, they'd had to be fast and quiet. This box was screwed into the table, which would make it tedious to unscrew, load with money, and screw back together.

I sighed. "Maybe the universe misled me."

"Come out from under there. Let's go home and sleep some more. It was a good theory."

As I slid out from under the table, my head smashed into the bottom, jarring it loose. Bundles of hundred-dollar bills tumbled down.

"Ow!" I rubbed my head.

Greyson peered at me and the money. He shook his head. "Only you could hurt yourself and have it be a good thing."

"The whole bottom of the table is fake. Look at this thing. It even has the wires and a metal box."

"They could stash the money quickly," Greyson said as he inspected the fake table bottom. "With Caleb knocking out players left and right, it gave them an opening to maneuver under the table without being noticed. We need to move this money. I didn't think to bring a bag."

"Do you want to find one? I can stay here."

"No. I'm not letting you or the money out of my sight."

"Then what's your plan?"

"To keep you safe, then dispose of this money."

"Don't you want to keep the money to give to the police?"

"There's enough phony money floating around. I don't need the extra million."

My cell phone rang. I dug it out of my pocket, wondering who could be calling me at this hour. Then again, it's Vegas.

"Hello?"

"Where are you, baby?"

"Why do you want to know?" I mouthed to Greyson, "Dagor." His back straightened.

"Don't play games with me. I know you're not at home. The lights are on but you aren't there. Funny thing, a man climbed out of your window."

"I'm working the tables tonight. I have to make a living. I don't know about the man in my apartment."

"Go home now or say good-bye to your cat. You have exactly thirty minutes." He hung up.

"I have to go home. Dagor is giving me thirty minutes or he'll kill Gus."

Greyson rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn it!"

"I don't know a way out of this. I have to go."

"Can you call David to see what he knows?"

I shook my head. "He always has a different phone number. He contacts me."

"All right, take my car. Drive as slowly as you can. Use all of the thirty minutes. I'll get in touch with Remy. We'll stay close and watch. If there's any sign of a problem, we'll come in."

"Then let's go. The clock's ticking."

He set his keys in my hand and led me to the back door. He gave me a tight hug. I could have stayed in his arms forever, but I needed to save Gus. I gently pushed him back.

"Be careful," he said. "Scream or break a window so we know if you're in trouble."

I nodded, hopped in his car, and drove off. I stayed a little under the speed limit—to the annoyance of the other drivers on the road—to use up the thirty minutes.

I pulled into the chapel parking lot and killed the engine. I took a deep breath before I stepped out of the car and into uncertainty.

I ran upstairs to find my apartment door unlocked. Stepping cautiously into the apartment, I found Dagor and two men—who looked like they had more muscles than brains—waiting for me.

"You barely made it in time." Dagor frowned at my jersey and sweatpants. "You need to pretty yourself. I can't be seen with you this way."

"I work the tables all day and night. I have to be comfortable."

"You don't work anymore."

"How am I supposed to pay rent?"

"You'll give up this rat-hole apartment and move in with me."

"And when you tire of me, I'll be out on my ass with nowhere to go."

"I tie up my loose ends."

A slithering chill snaked its way through my spine. David told me Dagor's girls tend to disappear. Was that his way of tying up loose ends?

"Dagor, you know who I am. I'm not the kind of girl who depends on men. There are hundreds of girls who would love to sponge off you and be at your beck and call. That isn't me."

"Baby, you came to me. You sought me to help you."

"Yes, but you won't help me."

"I wouldn't be helping you. I would be helping your lover, Greyson Miller."

"He's not my lover."

Dagor grabbed my arm. "Then why are you wearing his jersey?"

Oh, shit!

He shook me. "Stop fucking lying to me, bitch."

"I'm not lying. I never slept with him."

The back of his hand cracked me across my cheekbone so fast and hard there was no time to block or duck.

"Don't lie to me again. I promise I'll do a lot more than just hit you."

I held my face, rubbing the sting away. I didn't know what to do. There were three men in my apartment and only me to fight them all. It would be a losing battle. I didn't want to call in reinforcements. Gus would be a goner for sure.

"If I move in with you, Gus will have to stay with me." I'll drag out this conversation. There must be a way out. If I keep Dagor talking, I might find it. Caleb does it all the time at the poker table. Then again, Caleb is a remarkable bullshitter.

"He's not staying at my house. He's as good as dead if you bring him on my property."

"Where is he now?"

"In a safe place."

"Are you feeding him?"

"He doesn't need any food. He could live off his fat for a month."

My hand clenched into a tight fist. Before I could register what I was doing, my fist had blasted Dagor's jaw with an uppercut. He staggered back. His two ogres restrained my arms and shoulders.

Dagor rubbed his jaw. "Fucking bitch."

His hand balled into a fist and hurled toward me. My head snapped back and my eye burst in pain as his fist connected. I lunged at him but the men held me back. I kicked at Dagor, nailing him in the groin. He doubled over in pain. One hand signal from Dagor and the men dragged me out of my apartment. I kicked and screamed. They only tightened their grips. I tried to bite at their hands. One of them hit the back of my neck. I was momentarily dazed as they threw me in the trunk of their car, slamming the lid closed. I kicked and pushed the trunk, trying to get it to release. Being that it was a tight fit, my range of motion was severely limited.

The car engine roared to life. This wasn't good. Dagor was already tired of me. I had to escape from the trunk before the desert became my coffin. I pounded, kicked, and screamed.

My cell phone rang. I'd forgotten I had my cell phone. I quickly answered.

"Nadia, are you okay? You sound freaked out."

"Caleb, I'm freaking out because I'm locked in Dagor's trunk. Hang up so I can call someone to help me."

"Why are you in the trunk?"

"Shit, the car stopped. Caleb, if I wind up dead, it was Dagor." I quickly turned off my phone, shoving it into my pocket.

Meaty hands yanked me out of the trunk. "Get in there." They shoved me into a small warehouse.

It was dark. From the streetlight I could tell the warehouse was empty except for a few scattered boxes. One man held me while the other patted me down. He found my phone, dropped it to the floor, and smashed it with his size-fourteen shoe. The other man released me with a shove. They slammed the door closed. Taking the light from the street with them, I was left alone in complete darkness.

"Do we need to stay?" one of Dagor's oafs asked from beyond my prison door.

"She can't escape. Let's get the trash bags. We'll be back in a few minutes."

"Should we kill her first?"

"No. We'll wait until she's in the bag. Less mess."

I heard the car doors slam and the sound of tires crunching against gravel as they drove away.

I reached out with trembling hands to search for the door. I couldn't see in front of my face let alone a few feet away. It took ten shuffling steps before I made it to the wall and found the door. I shook the door handle. It was undoubtedly locked. I had hoped one of the brain-cell-challenged oafs would have forgotten.

I wasn't going to stay there and let them kill me. I stepped a few paces back and hurled myself at the door. The metal door didn't budge though my arm vibrated from impact. I held my arm, my eyes tearing from the pain. I had to escape.

A low growl came from behind me. I froze as I listened to the sound. The growl got louder. I backed into the wall. There was nowhere for me to go. I kicked my foot to deter the animal from coming closer. My foot connected with a chubby furball.

"Gus? Oh, God. Gus, are you okay?"

He grunted.

I knelt with stretched arms to find him. He plopped down into my reach.

"Gus, I'm so sorry. If we get out, I'll give you hot dogs for a week."

He groaned when I said hot dogs. He bit into my sweatpants and chewed as if they tasted just as yummy as his beloved hot dogs. As I pried my pants out of his mouth, he snapped at my hand. A noise outside the warehouse jarred my attention, giving Gus the perfect opportunity to seize my pants again.

"Nadia, are you in there?"

"Greyson?"

"Stand back. Remy's going to open the door."

Oh, thank God!

I scooted back, but I wasn't certain how far away I was to begin with. I heard a loud thunk. Then another one. The third thunk flung the door open. A flashlight blinded me. I squinted as two shadows closed in. Greyson grabbed my hand and led me outside.

"Don't forget Gus."

"Remy has him."

"We need to buy him something to eat. Dagor was starving him."

"We'll pick something up on the way."

I noticed a Cadillac. "Whose car is that?"

"Remy's. He had to pick me up from the casino. He'll drop us off at my house."

"What about Gus?"

"He can stay with us."

Greyson hopped in the front seat with Remy. Remy deposited Gus in the backseat with me. Gus zipped over and squeezed in tightly under my arm. A heartstring tugged for him. He chewed on my pants the entire ride to Greyson's. I didn't have it in me to stop him.

Greyson carried Gus into the house and deposited him on the sofa with a package of convenience-store hot dogs.

"I didn't notice your eye in the dark. What happened?"

I reached up, wincing as I touched my swollen eye. "Dagor punched me. How did you find me?"

"We were following you the whole time. We made sure Dagor's goons left before we freed you. I'll get some ice for your eye."

I sank next to Gus, petting him as he inhaled his food. He snorted with hot-dog happiness.

Greyson dropped in next to me with a small bag of ice. I relaxed into the cushions as he gently pressed the ice to my eye.

"What happened to you?" David asked from the doorway.

"Dagor hit her."

"What did I miss?"

Greyson relayed the story to David while he continued to pamper my eye with ice.

"Where were you?" he asked David.

"When Dagor showed, I escaped out of Nadia's apartment and raced over to Dagor's house. I thought I might be able to find Gus. I found a bunch of nasty evidence against him. He had extortion rings set up and kept handy mementos of his deceased victims. I bagged it all and placed a call to the police. I don't think you'll have to worry about Dagor for a while."

I nestled into Greyson as David and he continued to talk. Not worrying about Dagor lifted a weight off my shoulders. The deep, rhythmic voice coming through Greyson's chest lulled me into a dreamy stupor. My eyes strained to remain open. Greyson moved his arm, allowing me to cuddle even more. I tried to stay awake even though my eyes were heavy with sleep. I finally surrendered.

"You need to let her go before you hurt her."

"Since when did you become an expert? You hurt your wife when you left."

"I had no choice. You do."

"The choice belongs to her."

"You could stop now before it gets too far."

"I would never intentionally hurt her."

"You'd never intentionally hurt anyone, but you do."

"Why do you care so much about what happens between us?"

"Because I like Nadia."

Greyson shifted. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing that you're thinking."

"I think we're done."

Greyson gathered me into his arms. The weight of my arms and legs hung heavy as he carried me to the bedroom. I should have walked the distance to the bedroom but exhaustion took over . . . and it was nice not to have to walk.

He slipped me under the covers and then cuddled in around me. I instantly fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke happy. My skin didn't hurt, Gus was alive, we'd found the money, and Dagor would be behind bars soon. My eye hurt, but I could live with that.

I climbed out of bed, realizing I was alone. I poked my way through the house and found Gus on the couch where we left him. He was curled next to his hot-dog wrapper, chewing on a paper scrap.

"I think you might need breakfast."

I petted him, and he grunted his morning hello. I threw the scrap of paper in the garbage and continued my journey through the house and into the kitchen. The house was deserted.

Greyson must have gone to work. I was a little disappointed that he hadn't waited for me, but he had been spending a lot of time out of the office. I'm sure he was swamped with work. A nagging question pressed on me. Was this the end before it began?

I ran upstairs to take a quick shower. I found some of Greyson's clothes to change into. I would head home to change into my clothes and then hit the tables. I'd stay away from Greyson's casino. It would give us both some space . . . and I needed real money, not counterfeit.

I found Gus in the same spot on the couch. I tried to pick him up, but his butt drooped back to the couch.

I ran to the kitchen and snagged the backup hot-dog supply. Gus perked up when I waved one in front of his nose. He batted my hand to release the hot dog. When I yanked it away from him, he rolled over and stood with a stretch.

"Come on, Gus. Come and get the yummy hot dog." I led him through the house and out the door with the wagging of a hot dog. I pressed the garage door button to open it and tossed the hot dog onto the passenger's side of Caleb's Porsche. After Gus lumbered in, I shut the door and slid into the driver's side.

"We're going home."

Chapter 20

I wagged the hot dog in front of Gus's nose to lead him up the two flights of stairs. During his hot-dog break on the second floor, I wondered if hot dogs would ever lose their appeal for him. I had a suspicion hot dogs were a lifetime passion. We finally made it upstairs and into my apartment. He sniffed the air as he climbed the kitty stairs to the couch and plopped down with a contented sigh.

I changed into a pair of shorts and a stretchy T-shirt. I grabbed my hoodie for the cool casino.

I should call Caleb and tell him to pick up his car.

Since my cell phone was broken, I ran down to Frankie's apartment.

Frankie opened the door wearing normal clothes. I had to blink to register him barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt. His dark hair was still wet from the shower.

"Just the person I wanted to see," he said, yanking me into his apartment.

"What's going on, Frankie?"

"I'm making you a website. It was slow going at first, but I've finally cracked the HTML jargon. You would think you need a PhD to figure this stuff out. They've got it all backasswards. But they can't shut me out altogether. Want to see what I've created?"

"Uh, sure, but can I borrow your phone? Mine is broken."

"Yes, but after I show you the website. Sit down in front of the screen and prepare to be amazed."

I sat while he clicked on a link with the mouse. It took him to a site that had an ace of hearts playing card in the middle of the screen.

"Go ahead and click on the card," he instructed.

I maneuvered the mouse and clicked on the card. The card disappeared and a picture of me appeared. It was from the first show with Lupier when I had the accident with fire.

"Frankie!" I screeched. "What the hell is that?" I pointed to a picture of my butt on the screen. It was as round and large as the moon itself. The screenshot alternated between me standing and then bending over with my butt in the air . . . and my cheeks hanging out—big, white, and exposed. Standing, mooning, standing, mooning, standing, mooning. I gasped in horror.

"Is this live? Did you upload it?" I said in a panic.

"This is fantastic publicity. I've already linked it with the performance on YouTube. We're getting hundreds of hits. Just wait until I link it up with the scorpion video. We'll get thousands of hits."

"You uploaded the video to YouTube?"

"Hell, yeah! This is good stuff. I just need another video of you and we can get hits by the millions. What do you think about a performance with lions?"

"Take down the site now!"

"No way. You're heading into the spotlight. I can't stall the progress."

"Damn it, Frankie! I'm a poker player. I don't want to be in the spotlight. I want to sit at a poker table and glare at people. How can I do that when they're laughing at me?"

He pointed to the screen. "This is good stuff. This is what pays the bills."

"How does mooning the world pay my bills?"

"I already have appearance requests."

"Really?" I asked in shock.

"I've received hundreds so far. But I have to weed through them. Some of them are dirty, dirty men who like what they see."

I groaned.

"It's not all bad. I'm going on a date with one of them tomorrow."

"You're going on a date with a pervert?"

He nodded. "I can't wait. His dirty suggestion has me all in a fluster."

"Cancel the date! You can't trust men on the Internet, especially if he's already revealed himself as a pervert."

"He's going to have to be one hell of a pervert to make me run for the hills."

I rolled my eyes. "Where did you get the scorpion video?"

"I've got connections."

I raised my eyebrow.

"I do."

"Yeah, all right. But Frankie, you have to take down the picture of me mooning the camera. It's in bad taste."

He bristled. "I don't have bad taste. I have the taste of money. This website will have us swimming in it by the end of the year."

I cried on the inside. "If I hear one slam at the tables because of this, I'll force you to take it down. Now let me borrow your phone, please."

Frankie reached into his jeans and slipped out his cell phone.

"You don't happen to have Caleb's phone number, do you?" she asked.

"He's in the contacts."

"Should I ask why you have his number?"

"For future PR. And if he ever needs a date, I'm there for him."

I scrolled through Frankie's contacts. I raised my eyebrow. "Frankie, I'm learning a little too much about you right now. What's this place?"

Frankie leaned over my shoulder. "Oh, that's nothing you'd want to know about."

I decided I genuinely didn't want to know and dialed Caleb. He didn't answer. I left him a message to meet me at the casino if he wanted his car.

"Thanks for letting me use your phone," I said, handing it to Frankie. "I have to hit the tables."

"Don't forget you have to work at the chapel tonight."

"I wouldn't dream of forgetting. Working for you is the only entertainment I can afford."

"That's because I'm so good at what I do, and you're not good at the tables. But don't worry, because your new career is safe in my hands."

I stretched in my seat. I'd been sitting at this damn table for over an hour and I was five dollars ahead. I threw a few chips into the pot.

"Well, well, look who's here."

I turned my head slightly to see Venom Vincent. I've played at tables with him before. He was one of the regulars playing on the same poker circuit. His nickname was self-appointed but fitting. He was a scrawny man who wore too much jewelry and way too much cologne.

"What's going on, Vinny?"

"I should be asking you the same question," he said. He settled into a seat a few spots away from me.

"Nothing's going on. I've been playing for an hour."

"That's not what I meant. I've been hearing some things." His lips twitched into a smile below his pencil-thin mustache.

"What kinds of things?" I peeked at my cards. Junk hand again.

"You seem to be the talk of the tables."

My eyes narrowed. He had piqued the interest of the rest of the table. Their eyes rested on him as well.

"Go on. Tell me some of the talk."

"Seems you've turned into a social butterfly. Not only did you have a fling with Caleb, but I've heard rumors of you bedding Greyson Miller and Dagor Moliente."

Crap, crap, crap!

"Seems someone has a very wild imagination and a loose tongue," I said. "Who started these rumors?"

"Are you sure they're rumors?"

"Yes, I'm very sure."

"What about your website? Do you normally like to reveal your _ass_ -ets to the world?" His lips curled as he shuffled his chips.

The players at the table yanked out their phones and began searching for the website. I heard a few snickers.

I'm going to kill Frankie!

"That website has nothing to do with me."

"How does it have nothing to do with you? You're the only one waving your butt to the world on it."

"Never mind. I didn't upload it on the web. And there isn't anything true about the rumors either."

"Hmmm, then how come you're turning red?"

"I'm not turning red. I'm burnt."

"It's a shame your reputation is flushed down the toilet like yesterday's lunch. I was thinking you could be my next chick, but I don't date trashy women. The Vinster needs to keep his reputation on the level."

As I was looking for my escape, I spotted Caleb entering the casino. "So, Vinster, do you think Caleb would tarnish his reputation by dating a trashy woman?"

"He's juggling enough girls. Since he's already had his taste of you, he'll probably move up the food chain."

If Caleb didn't find me soon, I was going to hop over the table and strangle The Vinster. I gathered my chips. There was no way I could play at this table now.

As I turned to leave, Caleb's strong hand curled around my arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To another table."

"What happened last night?" He lightly brushed his finger against my bruised eye as he inspected it. "You had me totally freaked out. You can't just tell me you're in the trunk of someone's car and then hang up."

"You called at a lousy time, and then they broke my phone."

"Did Dagor give you the black eye?"

I nodded. "It doesn't hurt anymore. It's just ugly."

"How did you escape?"

"Remy and Greyson followed Dagor and rescued me."

"Where's my car?"

"The valet has it." I weeded the ticket from my pocket and handed it to Caleb. "Sorry for borrowing your car."

"You mean stealing it."

The Vinster perked with the newest information.

"I didn't steal it," I said, glaring at Vinny. "Can we have this conversation elsewhere? The Vinster is already having fun with his other rumors about me."

Caleb eyed Vinny. "What rumors are those?"

"He says you and I had a fling and then I proceeded to jump into Greyson's and Dagor's beds."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Which is why I'm moving to a different table."

"I think I want to play a few rounds." A smile brewed on Caleb's face.

"You can have my chair. I'm leaving."

"Stay. You won't want to miss this. I'll take a seat next to Vinny."

Vinny fidgeted in his seat.

"How much is the buy-in for this table?"

"Two hundred," I said.

"Perfect."

Caleb bought in without hesitation. It was chump change to him. "So, Vinny, are you ready to lose?"

Vinny cleared his throat. I slowly sank into my seat. I eyed Caleb as he threw a few chips into the pot. The man on the other side of Caleb nudged him. Caleb looked down to see the man's phone. The corners of Caleb's mouth twitched. He looked over at me, a playful spark ignited in his eyes.

* * *

"Should I congratulate you on such an amazing website?" Caleb asked as he drove me home. Caleb left The Vinster at the table with one chip and a wounded expression.

"You can congratulate Frankie. I'm going to kill him."

"It sure catches the eye."

I groaned. "Frankie said I'm receiving appearance requests. I'm just hoping they don't expect me to jump out of a cake. That website is false advertising."

"What are you doing tonight?"

"I have to work later."

"Do you want to have dinner before work?"

I eyed him. "No. We're better off far away from each other. But thank you for destroying Vinny at the table. That was fun to watch."

"How are we better off away from each other?"

"You can't plead ignorance. It's way too obvious we weren't meant to be together, let alone in the same room."

"We could start over."

"I don't think that works. And I'm sort of seeing Greyson."

"What does 'sort of seeing' mean?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know what I'm looking for yet. Even if I did, I'm not sure what he wants."

"You know he doesn't stay with women."

"Neither do you. And I don't want to date a poker player. If you're anything like me, you'll drive me crazy within a week."

" _I_ would drive _you_ crazy? Do you know how many times I've been ready to pull my hair out because of you?"

"I'm guessing it was about a dozen, which proves my point."

"What about the weekend you owe me?"

"You're still on that?"

"You owe me."

"This isn't about the wager anymore. This is about you wanting to have sex with me."

"It doesn't matter what it's about. You lost."

"You're right, I do owe you. But my heart wouldn't be in it."

"It will be. You just need the right atmosphere."

"I don't think the atmosphere has anything to do with it."

"You'd be surprised," he said as he pulled into the chapel parking lot.

"Nothing surprises me anymore."

"That's a shame," he said. His fingers brushed the bruise under my eye.

His arms brought me to him, and he placed a light kiss on the bruise. His lips moved to mine. I softened under his kiss. I knew it was wrong to give in so quickly. Where was my resolution of not wanting to get involved?

I pushed back. What is it about Caleb that keeps luring me?

"Thanks for the ride home," I said, jumping out of the car before he could stop me.

Damn, I wanted him.

Chapter 21

"Welcome to All Celebrities Chapel," I said to a couple who wobbled through the door.

They were in their late twenties and were hanging onto each other for vertical support. Both had the same vacant expressions. They gawked at me and giggled. I peered down at my white uniform to see if I had a stain. I couldn't see anything, so I chalked it up to their being a bottle of vodka past sober.

Since neither one could hold a pen, I helped fill in the forms. They only had to sign the bottom and were able to proceed. The woman touched her nose to the form.

"Why does this line keep moving? How am I supposed to sign my name when the line moves?"

I placed my hand on hers to steady the pen as she scribbled her name. The man wasn't much better but was able to focus long enough to find the line.

"Harry Potter is the celebrity of the day. If you'll follow me, he will join you both in matrimony and a magical new future."

"Harry Potter? How did he get here from Hogwarts?" the woman asked.

"He used the transporter," I said.

"Hey, isn't the transporter on 'Star Trek'?" the man asked.

_Uh-oh_. I'd mixed the two.

"Uh, he sometimes uses futuristic muggle technology. It makes him remember his roots."

"Yeah, he had a hard life."

I smiled and showed them the way to the chapel. Drunk people were the easiest clients by far.

Harry Potter smiled at them from the end of the aisle. I pushed the play button for the music. The theme of the Harry Potter movies drifted through the speakers. Talk about an odd melody to march down the aisle to. The couple didn't mind. They drifted and bumbled to the music until they reached the end.

"Can you turn me into a toad?" the man asked Harry Potter.

"Of course," Frankie said. "But it would ruin the honeymoon."

The man weighed the benefits of the honeymoon versus being changed into a toad and then nodded.

* * *

I was about to lock the chapel for the night when a dark face appeared in the glass door. I nearly screeched from shock until I realized it was Remy. I opened the door to let him in.

"Where have you been?" Remy barked as he entered.

"I've been working all day."

"You were supposed to be at Greyson's."

"How would I know? No one told me."

"He left you a note on the couch near Gus. He's been worried that Dagor nabbed you again. The police didn't arrest Dagor, and he's been seen around town. David's gone to Dagor's house and storage facilities to search for you."

The blood drained out of my head and straight into my go-go boots.

"Gus was chewing on a scrap of paper this morning. I threw it away."

Remy shook his head. "Let's get out of here. We don't want Dagor to find you."

"Let me change, and then I'll bring Gus down."

"We don't have time. Have Gus stay with Frankie."

Frankie heard his name and peeked into the front entrance. He was half out of his costume.

"Frankie, can you bring Gus down to your apartment tonight?"

"How am I supposed to pry his butt off the couch and down to my apartment?"

"Bait him with a hot dog."

Frankie was revolted by the idea of hot dogs. "I don't keep hot dogs in my refrigerator."

"I have a package in my refrigerator."

"I think I might have some disposable gloves I can use to pick up the hot dog."

"Make sure to lock your door tonight. Call the police if you hear any noises."

"I can do that. I like a man in a uniform. Maybe I'll make a pre-emergency call just to make sure they have some decent-looking men on duty to rescue me."

Remy opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

"I hope you snag a few good ones," I said, opening the front door and shoving Remy out.

"Is Frankie for real or does he enjoy messing with people's heads?" Remy asked as we both jumped into Greyson's Ferrari.

"I wonder that myself sometimes."

Remy shook his head and jammed his foot on the pedal. With the weight of Remy's foot, we made it to Greyson's house in record time. Remy dropped me off at the front door.

As I neared the door to knock, it flung open and I was yanked inside.

"Where the hell have you been?" Greyson growled. "I've been going mad trying to find you."

"I didn't know I was supposed to come here."

"Didn't you read my note?"

"No. I think Gus ate it. He was chewing on a scrap of paper. There was only a little bit left by the time I found it, so I threw it away."

Greyson scowled. "What about your cell phone?"

"Dagor's ogres smashed it last night."

"You should have checked in with me today. Dagor is out on the streets, and David is looking for you."

"I didn't know. I woke up to a deserted house without any messages. I assumed you went to work. I needed to work so I can pay for my car repair."

"Where did you go? You weren't at the casino today."

"I thought you needed space. I played at a casino down the strip."

His brows arched in surprise. "Why would I need space? What I need is to keep you under house arrest until Dagor is off the hunt."

"I don't know that much about you or your attention span."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, I know you have a short attention span when it comes to women, but I didn't know how short. Does it require getting into their pants first? Technically, you've been in mine, but you haven't been on the receiving end. I didn't know if that counted."

His hand shot to his forehead—most likely to fend off a growing headache.

"I would never leave a woman in my house without letting her know where I was or what my plans were."

"How was I supposed to know?"

He paced the floor and abruptly stopped. "I guess you wouldn't know. But next time, please give me the benefit of the doubt as to my intentions. I'm not a bad guy. I will always be honest with you."

"Sure. I wasn't trying to avoid you. I just needed to work, and I figured you needed to work too."

He touched my hand with his and gave me a kiss. "I need to call off David before he causes trouble."

"Don't bother," David said from the doorway. "Remy filled me in. I had already gone through Dagor's house and was on my way back when he called." David ruffled my hair and gave me a hug. "You had us all worried."

Greyson glared at David for hugging me too long. David released me with a smirk aimed directly at Greyson. I'd have to ask Mya how she managed when she was stuck in the middle of these two. At least with David I didn't have to worry about his intentions.

David slipped a phone out of his pocket. "Here's a temporary phone. Do you want me to tuck it into your pocket?"

"My uniform doesn't have pockets."

"I know. Neither did your red dress. You managed, however, to find a warm, cozy place for it." He winked.

I slid a peek at Greyson, who was gripping his last thread of patience.

David chuckled. "This shit never gets old." He slapped Greyson's back and dropped onto the couch.

I eyed the two brothers and determined they could use a time out. "I'll call Frankie and see if he was able to herd Gus to his apartment."

Greyson nodded and sank into the chair opposite David, glowering at him while I made my call.

"Hey Frankie, were you able to bait Gus with the hot dog?"

"Uh, I'm a little tied up at the moment."

"What about Gus?"

"Nadia, I'm literally tied up. A burly dude tied me to your chair and is shoving the phone in my ear. Dude doesn't know anything about tying knots. The Navy would weep. I'd be happy to show him my own style of knots, but he's not my type."

I heard a grunting sound in the background.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on," Frankie said to the man. "I'm supposed to tell you to meet Dagor at his house in thirty minutes or you'll miss a loved one," Frankie said. "Hey, big guy, I hope you're not meaning me. I'm not a loved one; I'm her manager. She hates me."

The line went dead.

"Dagor has someone," I said. "I have to be at his house in thirty minutes."

I tried to tuck the phone into my cleavage but my hands were shaking.

David and Greyson both jumped out of their seats.

"Do you know who Dagor has?" David asked

I shook my head no.

"Call everyone you can think of in Vegas that might be a target. I'll have Remy station himself in the area," Greyson said. "We only have ten minutes before you need to hit the road."

" _If_ she hits the road," David said. "I don't like this. There isn't an easy way of rescuing her once she's inside his house. I was there when the house was empty. It's a labyrinth of rooms. I wouldn't be able to reach her if Dagor's men were there."

"Don't think for a moment I want to send Nadia in there."

I ignored the boys and dialed Roy. He was the first Dagor had threatened. Roy answered and said he was at home. I tried a few acquaintances I suspected Dagor might know. They were all safe.

Could he have nabbed Caleb? I wouldn't consider him a loved one, but Dagor wouldn't know. I dialed Caleb's number. I heard a woman giggling in the background as he answered. I hung up without talking to him. The bastard was obviously okay. My stomach tightened . . . _oh, no!_ I dialed and waited.

"Bingo," Dagor said. "You better get here soon."

"I'm on my way. If you hurt her, you'll regret it. I promise you will regret it!" I hung up.

Greyson and David stopped arguing and turned to me with expectant eyes.

"Give me your car keys," I said to Greyson. "I need to go now."

"Who does he have?"

My voice hitched. "Mya."

Chapter 22

I drove to Dagor's house with the possessed air of a demon. Nothing was going to keep me from making sure Mya was safe. Neither Greyson nor David had tried to stop me from going. They reassured me they'd be watching and coming up with a plan. I had to find Mya and stall. They would text the word "clothes" to my cell phone if they were able to find Mya before I did, and then I could make my own escape.

My heart beat wildly. I was barely able to concentrate on the road. Blinding anger surged through me as I reached Dagor's house. I pressed the gas pedal to the floor, crashing through Dagor's gate. I slammed on the brakes inches from the front door. The door flung open with Dagor filling the doorframe. His eyes were as wild as my actions.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? You ran down my gate."

"You gave me thirty minutes!" I jumped out of the car and slammed the door. "Where is she?"

"Someplace safe."

"I'm here. Let her go!"

"Not until we've reached an agreement."

It took every ounce of control not to launch myself at him. "What kind of agreement?"

"I don't know how you escaped from the warehouse, but you won't have that chance anymore. I don't want to play games. Make the decision to be with me now."

"Why the hell would you want me?"

"I said you were mine. You will be _mine!_ "

"What if I don't want to be with you?"

"Then I'll kill you and take Mya. She seems like a sweet, innocent girl. It might be fun showing her how cruel the world can be. You, on the other hand, already know. You and I could become partners."

I glared at him. My nails bit into my palm to keep me from ripping his head off. "Business partners?"

"Partners in all sense of the word."

"I don't see that happening. You wouldn't give up any control."

"It's a give and take."

"I do all the giving, and you do all the taking."

"For now. In time you would earn your reward."

I could see right through his lies. He didn't want me as a business partner. He wanted me dead, but he wanted his fun first.

"The only thing I want right now is to make sure Mya is safe."

"Saying things like that only gives me more power to make you do exactly as I wish," he sneered.

Dammit!

"We can work out the details inside," he said. "Think of this as an initial contract."

I smothered the voice in my head, screaming at me to run and followed him inside, where he locked the door behind us. We walked through his vast entrance and foyer and into a study with a large mahogany desk and a leather executive chair. He led me over to a leather couch placed in front of a fireplace. Good thing for him there wasn't a fire lit. It would be too tempting to push him in.

"Sit here. We can discuss the arrangements."

I positioned myself at the edge of the couch farthest from Dagor.

"I don't understand. You know I won't make any of this easy on you."

He sat down next to me. "You'll know my desire soon."

His fingers threaded through the back of my hair. His grip tightened as his lips crushed into mine. I pushed at him. This spurred him as he used all his weight to push me into the couch. The more I fought, the more violently he came at me.

"Weren't we going to talk about a contract?" I asked as I wedged my knee between us.

"We'll talk after."

He pushed my knee out of the way. As I turned to slide out from under him, he yanked my hair and jerked me back. I clawed and dug my nails into his face. Surprised, he stopped to feel for blood. His teeth gnashed together as he backhanded me across my cheek. I kicked at him. He moved quickly out of the path and caught my leg, pinning me down. His weight had me disarmed. I had no way of protecting myself. But I wasn't going to go down without a fight. I spat in his face. His face twisted with rage. Dagor's hand flew to my throat, his fingers curled around it, stopping the airflow. With my airway blocked, there was no way to scream for help – not that it would help. There was no one here to save me. Terror was claiming every thought. I clawed at his hand to unclench my throat, but it was no use.

I was growing weaker and more frantic with each moment. I punched and scratched, but he didn't recoil. He wasn't going to give me the air I desperately needed. My arms weakened, my eyes blurred. I was barely conscious when a man appeared in the study.

"Sir, there's been an explosion at one of your warehouses."

Dagor instantly let go. I coughed and wheezed with the air I gulped. My lungs burned from deprivation.

"Get everyone on the move. Find out who did this!"

The man ran from the room.

Dagor glowered at me. "Did your friends do this?"

"I don't know anything about it," I rasped, rubbing the pain from my throat.

"I already know you're a liar. Was it Greyson Miller?"

"Do you expect a CEO to run around blowing up buildings?"

"He has people to do it for him."

"I ran here as soon as I heard you had Mya. I didn't tell anyone or make plans." I smirked. "It's too bad you weren't in the warehouse when it blew up."

This remark earned me another black eye. He punched with such anger I fell back and off the couch. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and dragged me to a closet. He shoved me in and slammed the door. I heard the click of the lock imprisoning me in the confined space.

I pounded at the door. "Let me out!"

"Dispose of her," Dagor said.

"Yes, sir."

I pulled out my phone. They hadn't taken it this time. I had the notion that in a short time I wouldn't be able to use it. I called Greyson.

"Nadia, where are you? Have you seen Mya?"

"I'm locked in a closet," I whispered. "Dagor gave orders to dispose of me."

"Shit! Where are you in the house?"

"The study. It's near the front entrance."

"I'm on my way. David and Remy are over at the warehouse. I've been looking for Mya at some of his other sites. I can't find her."

"She must be here. Find her first."

The door to the closet opened. I blinked up at a giant man. His thick brow frowned.

"Never mind," I squeaked into the phone. "Find me first."

The man seized my phone and smashed it. His hand grabbed my arm and dragged me to the entrance, where a car was waiting with its trunk open. I twisted my body, using all my weight to loosen his hold. He held on with a snake-like grip. I punched him in the stomach. He gave a low grunt but was unaffected. He picked me up and flung me into the trunk, slamming it closed.

_Son of a bitch!_ I was locked in the damn trunk again. I repeatedly kicked at the top. The only thing that gave way was my energy. This wasn't good. I already knew my fate, but I didn't want to consider the ending. Gunned down, suffocated, stabbed? Whatever the outcome, it wasn't going to be pleasant.

I couldn't think anymore. All I could do was kick at the trunk in a frenzy. I kicked and kicked until I smashed a tail light. I kicked the tail light again to remove all the pieces and stuck out my hand. I waved frantically, hoping someone would see my arm and call the police. Maybe I could wave an object out the small space for someone to take notice. There wasn't anything in the trunk. I didn't have a purse. I only had my clothes.

I yanked off my go-go boot and shoved it through the hole. I shoved it so hard I lost my grasp. It fell onto the road. Good thing I had two. I had better luck with the second one. I dangled it out of the car, trying to use it as a flag. But holding it with only a couple of fingers in a moving car, I lost my grip again.

I had only a few articles of clothing left, and I didn't want to make my escape naked. But if I didn't wave something out of the hole, then I was as good as dead. I shimmied my skirt off first and then my bustier. Those eventually were lost as well—once when the car swerved and once when the car hit a bump so hard I smacked my head on the top of the trunk. I was left with my panties and strapless bra. I was debating my next option when the car stopped and the engine was killed.

The trunk popped open. The man who had flung me into the trunk gawked at my near nakedness. I used his brief moment of surprise to punch him in the family jewels. He fell down like a sandbag. He obviously didn't know Remy's trick about wearing protective gear.

I hopped out of the trunk and kicked him in the stomach. It gave me an extra moment to make a dash. I had no idea where I was. We were in some sort of alley behind a string of warehouses. I bolted toward the end of the alley. Hopefully there would be a road leading me to a populated place.

Running without shoes slowed me down. I looked back to see the man clamber to his feet and run toward me. Fortunately, he wasn't too quick either thanks to my punches.

I reached the end of the alley and found a road to my left. I ran for it and reached an intersection. There was a man talking on a cell phone at the opposite corner. I ran through the intersection and swiped his phone. I called my apologizes as he gave me the middle finger and yelled obscenities. If I hadn't been concentrating on keeping myself alive, I would have complimented him on his colorful use of the English language.

"Greyson," I wheezed into the cell phone when he answered. "I have no idea where I am, but I'm running. And there's a giant man after me."

"Can you see any road signs?"

"No. I'm near the warehouses. I ran through an intersection. There's no way I'm going back to read the sign." I glanced behind me. The man was catching up and was only half a block behind.

"Keep running. I'm going to get David on the line."

"Keep running? I'm ready to pass out."

Greyson cussed. David promptly chimed in.

"Did you find Mya?" I asked.

"Don't worry about Mya. Just run your ass off."

I peeked behind me again. He was within tackling distance. "He's right behind me."

"Follow my instructions. You're going to stop, turn abruptly, and knee him in the groin. Give him an uppercut to his jaw as he goes down. You remember from the punching bag, right?"

"Yeah," I said with labored breathing.

"Shit," Greyson said. "Nadia, do it quickly. Don't give him time to react."

"She can do it," David said. "Don't think about it. Do it."

I sucked in one last breath and turned around. The man was right on top of me within a matter of a few steps. I brought my knee up as he was grabbing me. He toppled on contact. I followed through with an uppercut as he was on his way down. It wasn't as perfectly executed as David's, but the result was nearly the same. The man tumbled back, grabbing at his privates. What I didn't expect was him kicking out at me. His anvil-sized foot swiped my feet out from under me. I crashed onto the concrete. My head bounced on the unforgiving surface. It was lights out.

Chapter 23

"Nadia, wake up. Nadia!"

My eyes fluttered open. "Where am I?" I croaked.

"I have no idea."

I turned to the voice in the dark. I could only distinguish a fuzzy shadow.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm Mya."

I propped myself up. I was sprawled on a cold concrete slab. My body was freezing and sore.

"You don't know where we are?"

"No. They brought me here hours ago. They dropped you off a few minutes ago. I thought you were dead."

"Did you overhear them talking?"

"I heard them say they needed to dispose of something soon."

"That would be us."

Mya let out a squeak and broke into a sob.

"We'll find a way out," I said with my brave voice. "Greyson is looking for us."

"Greyson is looking for us?"

"I was on the phone with him before I was knocked out."

"That makes me feel better. How will he know how to find us here?"

"He won't. We need to fend for ourselves. Where's the door?"

"I think a little to our left. I've just been sitting here because I can't see anything."

"I'm sick of them throwing me into dark buildings. They could turn a light on once in a while."

"Maybe they're trying to save on electricity."

"Anything's possible. Let's try to find the door. Maybe there's a light switch near it."

"Oh, I didn't think of that."

We both stood and shuffled around with our arms stretched out. After twenty shuffles, we arrived at a wall.

"Mya, do you think we're near the door?"

"I think it might be over to the right."

We followed the length of the wall, running our hands along it. We reached the end of the wall without any luck.

"Let's try the other way."

We hurried to the other side. My hand ran across a dip and a seam. This must be the door.

"I think this is it. Feel around the seam of the door and a foot from the doorframe for a light switch."

I tried on my side. Mya tried on hers. We didn't find anything. I kicked the door in frustration. Learning from my past failure at knocking down a door, I changed my tactic and ran at it while throwing my back into it. It didn't budge.

"Nadia, you're going to hurt yourself."

"Better hurt than dead."

Mya let out a sob.

"Sorry. Let's keep moving along the wall. We might find something useful."

We trekked around two walls. On our third wall we noticed a pin of light up toward the ceiling.

"Mya, do you see that light?"

"It's really small."

"Do you remember seeing any windows in here?"

"Hmm, I do remember seeing windows, but they were all black."

"Give me your shoe."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll throw it at the window and see if I can break it."

"Oh, okay." Mya slipped off her shoe and handed it to me.

I groaned. "It's a foam flip-flop."

"I know. I just bought them. They're super cute. You'll have to see them in the light."

"I can't break a window with a foam flip-flop. Is there anything in this place we could throw?"

"I don't think so."

"There has to be something. Let's crawl around and see what we can find."

We crawled around for a solid ten minutes. The only thing I found was a bunch of dirt and dust. With all the dust kicked up, breathing became challenging. My nose had a permanent tickle.

"I think I found something," Mya said. "I don't know what it is. It's like a fuzzy rock."

"Meet me at the window."

She handed me the fuzzy rock. "What do you think it is?"

The tail of the fuzzy rock hung limply through my fingers. It's a good thing I hadn't eaten because I was ready to heave. "Right now, it's our way out of here. You might want to stand back in case any glass falls."

I took careful aim and shot the dead rat at the window. The window shattered, showering the concrete with falling glass. The outside streetlight gave us enough illumination to find our way around our prison.

"We need to find a way to climb out the window," I said.

"There's nothing in here to climb on."

Mya was right.

"Mya, I'll boost you on my shoulders. You can climb out."

"No way. I'm not going by myself."

"There isn't any other way. If you can climb out of here, you can find help to get me out."

Mya considered the plan and nodded. She clambered onto my shoulders. With help from the wall, she stood to reach her hands up to the window ledge. She only kicked me in the head once. But with my growing collection of bruises, what was one more?

"Can you get out?" I asked.

"I don't think so. My fingers can't firmly hold on to the ledge. There's no way I can pull myself up."

A sound from outside the building echoed in our metal prison. We froze.

"Get down," I whispered.

Mya scurried down. I grabbed her hand as we ran for the door.

"Stay flat against the wall," I said.

We flattened ourselves to the wall as much as possible. I had an easier time since I wasn't sporting size Ds like Mya. Sometimes small breasts came in handy. I'll have to remember that the next time I complain while shopping for bras.

My breath caught as I heard the clicking sound of the lock unlatching. The door swung opened. Two men stepped in. They noticed the broken window right away.

"Shit! They escaped," a man said.

I signaled to Mya and we bolted out the door. I swung the door with a slam. Flipping the bolt, we locked the men in their prison. The men banged on the door as Mya and I ran to their car, which was idling in front. As we both jumped in, a gun shot rang out. A bullet ripped a hole through the metal door. I gunned the car and sped out of the lot.

"Where are we going?" Mya asked.

"To Greyson's house."

"You know where that is?"

"I've been there. A lot has happened in the last couple of days. We can give him a call once we're there."

"Do you know you're not wearing any clothes?"

"I was wondering why I was cold," I said.

The drive to Greyson's didn't take us long. My foot was no longer under the command of my head. It had mutinied along with my twitching eye. I had the gas pedal to the floor and only yielded at intersections. My foot never touched the brakes. Mya clutched her seatbelt for dear life.

We screeched to a halt in front of Greyson's house and rushed to the door. It was locked, and the house was quiet. Mya knocked on the door while I struggled to open the front windows. Neither worked.

"I'm going to break the window," I said.

"Maybe you can find another fuzzy rock."

"I'd rather not find a fuzzy rock." I shivered from the remembrance of the tail between my fingers. "A normal one will do."

Snatching a rock from the ground, I smashed it through the front window. I cleared off the remaining glass shards from the window frame and wiggled my way through. As I ran to the front door to open it for Mya, I noticed an alarm panel by the door. A light on the panel blinked angrily at me and told me I had set off the silent alarm.

"That rock seemed to work well too," Mya said. "I wonder what kind of rock grows fur."

"It wasn't a rock. It was a dead rat."

A sudden "eek" burst forth from Mya. Her body grew rigid as her eyes rolled back. She toppled over like a chopped-down tree.

Crap!

"Mya?" I nudged her. She was out cold.

I spied out the small window near the front door to see headlights zooming up the driveway. Greyson and David climbed out and rushed in. For a few confusing minutes, every one simultaneously shouted questions. David finally silenced everyone with a sharp whistle.

"What happened to Mya?" David asked, pointing down at her.

"She passed out. She'll be fine."

"Why did she pass out?"

"She touched a furry rock."

They surveyed me with quizzical expressions.

"Where are your clothes?" Greyson asked.

"I lost them on the road."

"How's your head? You're not making any sense."

"It could be better. I cracked it on the concrete. I think there might be blood caked in my hair. I've been a bit too preoccupied to notice."

Greyson inspected my head while David picked up Mya.

"I'm going to take her to a guest room," David said.

Greyson nodded. His fingers traveled through my hair, putting light pressure on my scalp.

"I think you need to go to the hospital. You have blood all through your hair. It's all dried now, but it worries me that you've received two blows to the head so close together."

"I'll be fine."

"Why don't you take a shower and get dressed? Then I'll take you to the hospital."

"Really, I'm fine."

"Humor me."

"A shower would feel perfect. Hopefully it will wash off the dead-rat cooties." I shivered again.

Greyson raised his eyebrow as I hauled myself up the stairs to take a shower.

I dug through his dresser and found a jogging suit. I couldn't see Greyson wearing a jogging suit. He must work out though. His body wouldn't be so firm if he didn't. I pondered the vision as I stripped and stepped into the shower. I was about to reach for the shampoo when Greyson nabbed it first.

"Let me," he said.

I clutched my heart. "You scared me half to death."

"I wanted to assist with the removal of dead-rat cooties. And I wanted to talk to you more. What happened with Dagor?"

I filled him in on the story while his fingers lathered shampoo into my hair. I may have left out a few pieces of the story. They were all blending together.

"Greyson?" David called from the bedroom door.

"I'm in the shower."

"Mya is in the guest room, still passed out. I think she might sleep it off. I'm sure she's exhausted. I'm going to get rid of the stolen car. I'll be back in ten."

"I'll be down in a few minutes. See you later."

When David left, Greyson scanned me. His eyes focused on my throat.

"What happened to your neck? There are red bars going across it."

I touched my neck and remembered Dagor's fingers wrapped around it, cutting off my air.

"Dagor."

"What did he do?"

I shook my head. I knew if I said it out loud, I would lose it. I was barely suppressing a bubble of sobs. Greyson lightly touched one of the red bars. I jumped back. My reflexes betrayed me. Greyson's eyes showed surprise before the grim realization set them hard.

"Did he try to strangle you?"

I nodded. The bubble was nearing the surface.

Greyson took me into his arms and held me close. I heard his deep voice through his chest.

"Are you in any pain?"

I shook my head no.

"How did you escape?"

"I tried to fight him off, but he was out of his mind. He only stopped because a man gave him a message that there was an explosion at one of his buildings. I wouldn't be here if there hadn't been an explosion."

Greyson hugged me closer. "I'm giving Remy an enormous raise."

"Remy did it?"

"He rigged it with David's help while I was searching for Mya. We expected it would prompt Dagor to leave the house to see what happened. He must have another building we don't know about because I checked everywhere and couldn't find Mya."

Greyson kissed me as he left the shower. He said he had to make a few phone calls. I let the water wash over me until I began to prune. I dressed in the jogging suit and tied my hair into a ponytail. As I descended the stairs, I heard Greyson's voice coming from the great room.

"I'm running out of options. Dagor is going to keep coming after Nadia and take hostage after hostage. He needs to be stopped before he kills someone."

"What's the plan?" David asked.

"This is your area of expertise. You tell me."

David was about to say something when he spotted me in the doorway. He gave me a gentle smile. I meandered over to sit near him while Greyson paced.

"Thank you for saving Mya," David said. He brushed my face with the back of his hand. He peered at my two black eyes. "Do you need ice?" he asked.

"I don't think so."

His gaze traveled to my neck. "I'm sorry you're in the middle of this. We seem to have made the problem worse."

"Do you think Dagor will stop coming after me?"

I read into David's eyes what he didn't want to tell me in words. Dagor wouldn't stop. He was angry and ready for revenge. This was only the beginning.

Chapter 24

Greyson drove me to the emergency room. It took an hour of waiting to see a doctor. Greyson's nerves were clearly on edge and agitated. He paced and then settled in a chair. After a few minutes, he jumped up and paced again.

"You're a very intense person," I said as I followed him with my eyes. He had passed me for what had to be the hundredth time.

He stopped. "I'm sorry. It helps me think."

"What are you thinking about?"

"How to remove Dagor from our lives."

I contemplated. "He either needs to go to jail or he needs to find a new person to pick on." I didn't want to say the third option I was thinking: death. However satisfying it would be to know he could never harm anyone again, I wouldn't want anyone to have to wear an orange jumpsuit for life.

"I wouldn't want him to pick on someone else just so he would leave us alone."

"Then he has to go to jail."

"David already gave evidence to the police. They didn't do anything."

"Maybe they couldn't," I said. "There might not have been enough evidence. They might be working on an investigation that will provide them with more evidence."

"Either way, it doesn't look like he'll go to jail anytime soon."

"How many years would he be sentenced to for being an accomplice to counterfeiting?" I asked.

"I don't know. It might be enough for him to forget his obsession with you. He would be angry with whoever turned in the evidence."

"We have to find out who he sold the supplies to and pressure the person to go to the police."

"Talk about mission impossible," Greyson said. "First we would have to figure out who's behind the counterfeiting. Then we would have to convince them to talk."

My name was called. Greyson and I followed the medical assistant to a small room. Greyson stood next to me like a guard dog the entire time. As soon as the doctor appeared, Greyson began listing my injuries. The doctor heard enough and raised his hand to stop Greyson.

"Why don't we take this from the top?" the doctor suggested. "Let's start with your head. Were you in an accident?"

My life was like a train wreck, but that wasn't the sort of accident he was talking about. I filled him in on my two head injuries, my two black eyes, and my bruised throat.

"And what about the bruise on your leg?" he asked.

"Oh, never pick a fight with an elevator. It will win."

The doctor eyed me and then said, "I'm most concerned about your brain."

* * *

Greyson, once again, was given the task of keeping me awake for twenty-four hours. The doctor had originally said to wake me up every two hours, but with two head injuries, he changed his mind.

"Let's head to the house and regroup," Greyson said, pulling out of the hospital parking lot. "Hopefully David figured out a plan because I have nothing."

"Sounds good. It's already late and we have to stay awake for another twenty-four hours. This isn't going to be fun."

The edges of Greyson's lips curled briefly.

"Did you think about sex?" I asked him.

He shrugged, but the smile came back.

I was head-to-toe ugly with bruises, and he still wanted to have sex. _Men!_ I smirked.

* * *

David and Remy were waiting at the house. Mya was still upstairs. I ran to check on her. She was sleeping soundly. David had tucked her under the covers. I slipped out and returned downstairs.

"She's sound asleep," I said.

"Hey Jet, how's the head?" Remy asked.

"Greyson's stuck with me for another twenty-four hours."

"He's going to share that duty with me. He has a couple of morning meetings he has to attend."

"Shouldn't you sleep, Greyson? You can't go to the meetings half-asleep."

"Don't worry," Greyson said. "Meetings keep me on my toes. There's no way I'll fall asleep. Maybe in the last one . . . taxes."

"Yuck. I dread doing my own taxes let alone having to worry about them for a corporation."

"Luckily, I just make an appearance. As long as everyone is on track, I can make a quick escape."

"You can drive with me in the limo," Remy said to me. "I'll give you a tour of the cockpit."

David smirked.

"Don't be smirking," Remy said. "I've done some killer renovations."

"I don't doubt you have."

A nagging feeling crept into my head. I couldn't shake the feeling I was forgetting something.

"Greyson, was I suppose to do something?"

"Not that I know of."

"Maybe it's just my head. It hurts."

"Let me get you something. I'm sure I have headache medicine."

When Greyson left the room, David stood up and walked over to me. He peered into my eyes like a doctor.

"Do you have any other pain?"

"Yeah."

"Where? Do you need ice?"

"No. I need food. I think my stomach is eating itself."

"When did you eat last?"

"I think breakfast. I was working all day, and then I was dragged here."

"No wonder your stomach hurts."

Greyson returned with medicine and water. "There isn't any food here. I can order something."

I shook my head. "Now I'm starting to feel queasy. It probably wouldn't be a good idea."

Greyson sat and hooked his arm around me to lean against him. "Tell me if you decide you want to eat. I'll order something."

"Okay."

"Since everyone is here, we should figure out a game plan," David said. "I have to hit the road by tomorrow night. I don't have a choice." He stared point-blank at Greyson. "Don't bother asking what I'm working on."

Greyson narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything.

David continued, "We have two problems: Dagor and the counterfeit money."

"Dagor seems to be the biggest threat," Remy said.

"Yeah, he's a threat," Greyson said. "But if I don't get a handle on the counterfeit-money problem, I'll have a multibillion-dollar corporation down the drain within days."

"This is all the same problem," I said. "I'm sure if one disappears the other will follow."

Disappear.

The counterfeiters used an old illusion trick of making the money disappear. A false bottom provided a way to deceive everyone into thinking the money had disappeared.

"Nadia, honey, are you okay? You have a weird look on your face."

"My thoughts drifted. Why would a person who wanted the money to disappear make it into an illusion? I would think an average person would find a way to do it without the illusion. So, why?"

"I guess they didn't have many options," David said.

"It's not so much about the options as it is about how they did it."

"I didn't see it. Explain it to me."

"The false bottom was an exact replica. If it was me, I would make a false bottom with wood or something that would blend in. But it wouldn't be exact. It would be plain with no detail because I wouldn't know what the true bottom looked like. The person would need a picture of the bottom or to somehow obtain specs. Then they would need to install the bottom before the tournament."

Greyson stood, pulling out his phone. "I'll call for all the footage from the room before the tournament."

David turned to me. "Who would make a replica?"

I thought for a moment. "Someone who is a perfectionist. Perhaps someone in the trade. Maybe an illusionist." My eyes widened. "Holy shit! An illusionist!"

Chapter 25

"An illusionist? As in a magician?" David asked.

I scrambled off the couch. My pulse was racing. "It couldn't be him, could it? Who would be his partner? There must be a link I'm not seeing."

David followed me with his eyes. "Who are you talking about?"

"Lupier."

"If it was an illusionist or magician, why Lupier?" David asked. "There are hundreds of magicians in Vegas. Are you sure you're not seeing him as a possible suspect because he unleashed scorpions on you?"

Remy smirked. "It's all over the Internet. One site has it in slow motion. You should see her tackle Lupier in slow motion. You can see the instant his face turned whiter than snow."

David nodded his head. "Yeah, I watched that one. It's classy the way they made her eyes glow red." David turned to me. "Or do your eyes normally glow red when you're catapulting from glass coffins?"

I smacked him on the back of his head. "Would you be serious for a moment? There's a connection. I'm just not seeing it."

Greyson disconnected his call. "I should be able to download the footage in a few minutes. We might be able to find something."

I nodded. Nothing was fitting together.

"Did I hear something about an illusionist?" Greyson asked.

"I think Lupier is involved," I said. "I can't fit it all together."

"Don't try to force the puzzle pieces to fit," David said. "If it truly happened, the pieces will fall into place naturally."

"I'm not thinking of something. I'm missing something." I turned to Greyson. "Did you ever find out how the money was coming in or going out?"

"No. I haven't been able to see anything on the footage."

"Maybe there's an illusion there as well. If the operation is rigged by a magician, he would continue to use the same tricks."

"You might be on to something," Greyson said. "It wouldn't hurt to look around. We should search the cash room—but without raising suspicion."

"Who will stay with Mya?" David asked.

"You will," I said. "You said you didn't want to be caught on camera any more than you had to be."

"Yes, but if she wakes up, she'll see me. I can't let her know I'm alive quite yet."

"Remy will stay."

Remy scurried to his feet. "Nope. I'll go with Greyson."

"Nadia needs to come with me," Greyson said. "I'm her babysitter."

"Did you have to use that term?" I asked.

"What? Babysitter?"

"Yes. It makes me think I'm a minor—which would make me jailbait and you a creepy old guy."

"I'm a creepy old guy?" His hands were on his hips, but his lips slightly curled. "I don't know which offends me more—the creepy part or the old part."

"Only if you were a babysitter. Otherwise you are . . ." My face heated up. He was one hundred percent sexy.

A full smile appeared on his face. "I'm what? Spit it out so David and Remy can hear."

"I was going to say you're otherwise a pain in the ass."

"Nice cover," David said. "If you two are done, we should try to figure out who is doing what."

"Since David and Remy are both too chicken to stay here and watch Mya, we can call Frankie. He would be willing to do it," I said.

"I'm not chicken about watching my own wife. I just can't have her see me yet."

"All of Las Vegas has seen you," Greyson said.

"Don't be dramatic. The only people who know I'm around are the three of you."

"And Caleb, and Frankie, and Dagor."

"None of those guys know who I am nor would they care."

"So, can we pick up Frankie?" I asked.

"Frankie would be fine to watch Mya. Why don't you give him a call and tell him we're on our way."

"I need a phone. The temporary one was smashed."

Greyson handed me his phone. I dialed Frankie. He didn't pick up. He normally stays up late after the chapel closed. I was sure he would be awake. The nagging feeling returned. _Uh-oh!_ I knew there was something I had forgotten.

"Did anyone go release Frankie after the call from Dagor?"

Everyone stared at each other with wide eyes. I cringed.

"The three of you need to pick up Frankie right now."

They all backed away. I narrowed my eyes.

"I'm not going," I said. "He'll be angrier than a starving lion. He'll take his revenge by signing me up for embarrassing gigs. One of you needs to go. I don't care who. You're all cuter than I am, and he won't bite your heads off."

David lost at rock paper scissors, so he left to pick up Frankie. Remy would stay and watch Mya until David returned with Frankie. Greyson and I hightailed it to the casino.

He parked near the back door. We quickly entered the building, and I followed him through several hallways.

"We're going to the cash room," he said. "We need to make sure it's not too obvious that we're looking for something. I'm going to call the security office and tell them I'm giving you a tour, though even that might raise a red flag. It's not something normally allowed. But since I'm the boss, they shouldn't question it."

Greyson made the phone call to security. He only used a stern tone once. Judging from the interactions with his employees, he was an excellent boss. No one ran away when they saw him coming nor flipped him off behind his back. But I didn't think I would want to get on his bad side. He had a way of unnerving a person. The way he carried himself and the tone of his voice demanded respect. He wasn't a boss you could put up your feet and crack open a beer with.

Greyson opened the door to the cash room. We both stepped in. Three employees were working in the room. They watched us for a moment then continued their work.

"Search for anything peculiar," Greyson whispered. "I'll start blabbing tedious details about the cash room."

I nodded and quietly poked around the room. Greyson relayed specifics on how money traveled through the casino. I ran my hand along some of the workers' tables. They eyed me but kept working. I smiled at them.

Mounds of dollars were stacked and banded. Counting machines flipped through the money and gave a total.

The room wasn't overly large. It was big enough to have three stainless-steel counting tables and shelves against the wall, holding more money. There was also a walk-in safe. I didn't think the counterfeiters would go to the trouble of rigging a safe when there were easier options. A couple of secured carts were available to move money around the casino. Maybe a cart would have a false bottom.

"Greyson, can you show me inside one of these carts? They're so impressive."

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

He had one of the workers unlock the carts. They were all empty and looked exactly the same. I felt inside them. It was hard metal and the seams were welded together. I peeked from the carts to see the employees staring. They had to figure something wasn't right about this visit.

"Oh, sugar dumpling," I gushed as I flung my arms around Greyson's neck. "Thank you for showing me the cash room. It's a girl's dream come true."

Before Greyson could answer, I planted a kiss on him that backfired. I had wanted to give a little performance for the employees, but the kiss was so much more than I expected. Luckily, Greyson had the sense to pull back—but not before nipping my bottom lip.

"Sugar dumpling?" he whispered.

"It's a term of endearment," I whispered back.

"Have you ever used it before?"

"Do I look like a person who goes around calling men 'sugar dumpling'?"

His lips curved slightly.

In a louder voice, I said, "Look at all the money on the shelves."

I roamed from Greyson to the shelves. Greyson followed behind. As I studied the shelves, I noticed they were metal and sturdy. They were probably bolted directly to the wall. I couldn't see any seams where the wall might have been cut. Each shelf was assigned its own denomination. Singles were at the bottom. Hundreds were at the top. I ignored the lower bills and studied the hundred-dollar shelf. This had to be where the "magic" had happened.

If Greyson didn't see the money come or go, maybe it just disappeared and reappeared on this shelf. I studied the ceiling. White drywall. No seams or vents. I wanted to scream. It had to be here. Why the hell couldn't I see it?

Lupier made sure his tricks were hidden from the audience. The gimmicks he used were shielded. Only the magician and his assistant learn where triggers were placed. I shivered at the remembrance of the scorpion coffin. Even the faulty button I had pushed had been hidden from the audience.

I thought harder. The cash room and cameras were like the audience. Anything the audience could see would be part of the illusion. I needed to find the area the magician was working in.

I glommed onto Greyson. "Sugar dumpling, when we get married, will you shower me with money?"

Three pairs of wide eyes shot in our direction. They showed more shock than he did.

"Sweetheart, when we get married _this weekend_ , I will shower you with anything you want."

My eyes sprung wide open.

Greyson chuckled and whispered, "I can play this game too."

"No, you can't," I whispered back. "You freaked me out. I think you gave the employees heart attacks. You'll need to put them on workers' comp."

He held me near. "Maybe you shouldn't play games if you aren't ready to follow through."

I eyed him suspiciously. "Come on. Let's go."

He followed me out of the cash room and into the hall.

"What's on the other side of the shelves?" I asked.

"A storage room."

This tidbit sparked my interest. "Can you show me?"

"For you, my blushing bride, I would be honored." A smile escaped his lips.

"Cut that out," I said. "You're doing it to make me nervous. And I'm far from a blushing bride."

"I don't see why it should make you nervous. You started the game; I'm just playing along. I'm not all that bad."

"You said yourself you would make a bad husband."

"True. However, David seems to be worse, and Mya still loves him."

"Yes, but absence makes the heart grow fonder. Indifference kills it."

"Ouch, that hurts."

"It only hurts because you know it's true. You have no plans to marry. And I wouldn't marry you if you did, so cut it out."

"Just stab the knife in deeper. Better yet, twist the knife for maximum pain."

I rolled my eyes. "Just show me the damn room."

He grinned and led me to a storage room. It was filled with cleaning supplies and stacks of linens. I wandered around, inspecting the area.

Jason opened the door and peeked in. "Greyson, I was told you were on-site." He entered the storage room. "Why are you in here?"

"I'm giving Nadia a tour."

His brow arched. "Of the storage room? I'm sure she would rather see the kitchens or the boutiques."

"Is there something you wanted?" Greyson asked.

"We need to talk about the meetings tomorrow. I set some reports on your desk that we need to go over."

"We can do that first thing in the morning. I'm trying to keep Nadia awake right now. Any talk of meetings or reports could make a person fall dead asleep."

"Oh," Jason said. "I'll leave you to finish your tour." Jason retreated out of the storage room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

"Let's do this quickly," Greyson whispered.

"I was expecting the storage room to be bigger."

"Be happy it isn't. Otherwise, we would have more ground to cover."

"Doesn't it seem like we walked farther to get here?"

I left the storage room and counted paces to the cash-room door. There were twenty paces. Only ten of them were equivalent to the storage-room space. It wasn't adding up. Greyson ran his hand along the hallway wall.

"Nothing," he said.

"Let's go back in the storage room. Are there cameras in there?"

"No. There are some in the hallway."

"Perhaps we should make it look like we don't want to be disturbed."

"How would we do that?" he asked, but his eyes showed understanding.

I took a couple of steps back. "I meant acting like we did in the cash room."

He closed in. "I don't want to act."

His lips were on mine in an instant. I pushed him back, but he slid into the storage room, yanking me in with him. He swung the door closed with his foot. I found myself pinned between Greyson and the door. He gazed down at me.

"Kiss me, Nadia."

He looked deep into my eyes as if I was the only woman in the world he'd ever want. I raised myself on my tiptoes and brought his mouth to mine. What began as a slow kiss turned into a flurry of desperate need. Our lips couldn't take each other in fast enough. Our hands couldn't explore with enough speed. I fumbled with his shirt to strip it off. I needed his skin, his warmth, his muscles. He pulled the shirt over his head and then removed mine.

We had begun at the door, but between kissing and a flurry of hands, we ended up at the opposite side of the room. Greyson pinned me by a shelf. I felt my bra unhook and loosen. He hooked his finger in the strap and tugged it the rest of the way off.

"I can honestly say I've never been in a storage closet with a girl before," he said into my neck.

"Glad I could help make your dreams come true."

"Just wait, I'll get to your dreams."

I held onto the shelf for support as Greyson kissed his way down. The shelf gave way. I tumbled backwards, taking Greyson with me.

"Ow!"

Greyson and I looked up from where we were sprawled on the floor to find we were half in the storage room and half in another room. We scrambled to our feet.

"What the hell just happened?" I asked.

"I think we found the printing room."
Chapter 26

Greyson was right. We found the printing room. There was a printer set up in a corner with pages of uncut hundred-dollar bills stacked high. The smell of ink and chemicals filled the room.

"Grab our shirts," he said as he propped a vacuum cleaner in the doorway to keep the door open.

I scooted past him into the storage room to collect our clothes. I slipped into my shirt as I roamed around the printing room.

The room was big enough for the printer, supplies, and a few stacks of money. An empty shelf secured high on the wall caught my attention. It seemed like a high place to install a shelf and then not store anything on it.

"Greyson, does this shelf stand out to you?"

"It's odd it's so high with nothing on it. It looks like a shelf from the cash room."

Greyson and I gawked at each other with the same realization. We hurried over to the shelf. A stepstool was placed under it. Greyson stepped on it and inspected the shelf.

"This is about the same height as the hundred-dollar shelf in the cash room, isn't it?" I asked.

"It has to be. I can't see anything different."

"Can you see any buttons or triggers? Maybe jiggle the shelf and see if it moves."

Greyson pressed, jiggled, and pushed at the shelf. It didn't budge.

"Maybe the trigger is located somewhere else," I said.

Greyson hopped off the stool, and we searched the room. Greyson wandered to the desk and inspected it and its contents. I searched along the walls. My hand ran across the light switches. There were two switches and a button that had a safety release so you couldn't accidentally press it. This made me curious. I released the safety mechanism and pressed the button. The shelf turned. The cash-room money was now on the inside of the printing room. I pushed the button again. It rotated the shelf so the money was back in the cash room.

"Now we know how the money was moved," I said. "The workers wouldn't have noticed it because it was above their heads. What about the cameras?"

"From what I remember of the footage, the cameras were all pointing down toward the busy areas of the room. It might have been too hard of an angle to capture the top shelf. I can't believe this room was built under my nose. This must be why Jeff was hired," Greyson growled. "My casino is printing counterfeit money!"

I left Greyson to his thoughts and studied the printer. I had never seen a printer set up for money, so I wanted to check it out before the police took it for evidence.

"Nadia, come here quickly."

"Did you find something?"

His eyes were focused at the doorway. I followed his eyes to Jason. He was standing in the doorway with a gun pointed at Greyson.

"You couldn't leave it alone, could you? My one place to have a little spotlight of my own and not hover in your shadow."

"I should have known it was you. You have nearly the same amount of security clearance as I do. You have access to my calendar, my office, and my penthouse."

Jason smirked. "You would have never suspected me because I was your right-hand man. You say jump, and I jump until I can't breathe."

"Put the gun down and let's talk."

"Talk about what? Maybe you want to talk about how much I slaved for you as you waltzed around in your Armani suits. While you got all the girls with your money, I worked around the clock." Jason twitched. He was trying to keep a tight grip on his emotions. They were gnawing at him and wearing him down. "It looks like you found your last girl. I know how much you like each other, so I'll be the gentleman and let you choose who I shoot first. Then I'll seal the door and let you both rot here together."

"We can make a deal," Greyson said, pulling me to stand behind him. "We'll take down this printing room. I'll wire money into an offshore account. You can make a clean break. Move somewhere new and start over."

"It's not that easy. I'm not alone." The vein in his neck pulsated as he twitched again.

"We already know about Lupier and Dagor," Greyson said.

"Dagor is the middleman. I don't care about him. This is far beyond anything I can stop."

"Who does Dagor work for?" I asked.

Jason shook his head. He bit back the fear reflected in his eyes. "Dagor tipped him off that you both knew about the money. He nearly ate me for breakfast." Jason's eyes glazed over as he shuddered. "I'm getting out of here—but not before I kill you both. Those were my directions. If I don't follow them, I'm a dead man."

I had to keep Jason talking and not shooting. "What about Lupier?" I asked. "Is he going with you?"

Jason arched his brow. "Why would he go with me? He doesn't have anything to do with this."

"You're not working together? How did you know how to create these illusions?"

Jason smiled.

"Yvette is your partner," I concluded. She was the only logical person who could have been as valuable as Lupier.

"I wouldn't cut her in on this deal. But I did, uh, _pump_ her for information. Jeff was my partner until he drank something he shouldn't have."

"He was alive long enough to be useful but died after services were performed at the tournament," I said.

"Yeah," Jason said. "Something like that. He was a carpenter and skilled at rigging up false walls and the table bottom. But he was greedy and wanted to steal the counterfeit money. He said we could swap it out later. I knew the cameras would catch us. With all the security and cameras in this place—and Greyson's constant overshadowing—I had to tread carefully. Jeff was all about instant gratification." Jason's finger pulsed at the trigger. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.

"What about Catarina? She was hanging around Lupier. I know she needs money," I said.

"Yes, she desperately needs money. She's working all the angles to cash in on Lupier's success. I heard her mention making an illusion video and something about pie that could be sold on the Internet. She has nothing to do with me. But she did sabotage you the two times you were on stage. I must give her credit for that."

Catarina was the one who bumped into me and disabled the switch in the coffin? My hand flexed in anger.

The thought of Lupier and Catarina . . . and pie. I shuddered.

I didn't think long about the union of my two least-favorite people. Jason held out his gun and steadied his hand to take aim.

"I've told you too much," he said. "I didn't want to kill you, but I really don't have a choice." His finger pressed the trigger.

I swallowed, not knowing what to do. Greyson pushed me farther behind him. I squirmed to free myself from his protection. A gunshot blasted the air. Greyson slammed against me. We smashed against the wall and fell to the floor. His full weight was on top of me. Warm liquid ran down on me, soaking my shirt.

"Greyson!"

I scrambled to escape from under him. His weight kept me down.

"I'm okay," he said. His voice was edged with pain.

An arm reached down and helped Greyson up. I fixed my eyes on Remy. Jason was on the floor, knocked out. Greyson held his arm while blood trickled down.

"I thought we were goners. When did you get here?" I asked Remy.

"In time to knock out Jason before he shot Greyson in the chest. A shot to the arm isn't as bad."

"I'd rather have the wall shot instead," Greyson said through gritted teeth.

I winced at the blood flowing from Greyson's arm. "I'll drive you to the emergency room." I hurried to the storage room and grabbed a towel. I wrapped it around his arm to help stop the bleeding.

"How did you know where to find us?" Greyson asked.

"Security was all up in your business. They were collecting bets to see if you two were going to do the nasty in the storage room. I arrived as the camera picked up Jason entering the room. When he didn't leave, I knew something was wrong and hauled ass down here."

"They would bet on something like that?" I asked.

"This is a casino. We bet on everything."

"We need to hurry," I said. "The towel is already saturated."

"I can take him," Remy said.

"No, Nadia can take me," Greyson replied. "I want you to stay here and guard this room. Call the police and tell them the situation. I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't let anyone in except the police. Right now, I don't trust anyone except you. There are people in this building who knew about this printing room. Until we determine who they are, I'm giving you all the responsibility. Tie Jason up so he can't run away."

Remy nodded. I ushered Greyson out the door. He would have talked business until he ran out of blood.

Greyson gave me the keys to his Ferrari as we hurried outside.

"You're going to smear blood all over your car," I said.

"The seats are leather. It should be fine. And if not, I don't care right now."

"All right, let's go. I'm going to see what this car is made of."

"As long as you drive to the hospital before I bleed to death, you can do whatever you want."

I grinned.

* * *

They admitted Greyson right away. I was allowed to stay with him even though I protested. Blood and I have an unspoken agreement. It stays inside the body, and I don't throw up. Once it escapes, the agreement is broken. I had been heroic back in the printing room because I was hopped up on adrenaline. Being in the hospital made the blood seem more treacherous.

I let them fix up Greyson as I stood in the corner humming. I figured show tunes were the way to go. I tried to think of something upbeat, but it ended up a compilation of several melancholy songs that was grating to even my ears. If Frankie was here, he could have belted out a song that would have made me feel better.

"Nadia, you can stop humming. It's over."

I turned to inspect Greyson. He had a gauze bandage over his wound. I could deal with a bandage.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. It's tender, but they gave me something for pain."

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's head back home."

"To your house?"

"Yes, that's what I meant."

"I just wanted to make sure. You said before you didn't think of the house as your home."

"That was before. It's grown on me." Greyson took my hand as we strolled to the car. "Nadia, a part of me didn't want to find the counterfeit money. I knew I would have to work an insane amount of hours to prevent the casino from falling apart when the story hit the news. I'm sure it will have complete media coverage by morning. Any bits of a normal life I had are going to go with it. I'll have to make calls to release statements as soon as we get back."

I nodded. "You don't have to explain this to me. I already know. I did like spending time with you. Not the life-threatening parts . . . nor the parts when Mya dressed me up, but the other times."

"I'm not going to lead you on, Nadia. If I did, I would have David, Mya, Remy, and you all kicking my ass. I'm going to tell you right now you probably won't hear from me for a while. I tend to focus on work and forget the people around me. I'd hate myself if I hurt you. So, with that being said, can we make a date for six months from now?"

He was being honest. Something made me relax with his request. He wasn't trying to ditch me. He had to work now and play later. But, six months?

"I think that can be arranged," I said, though part of me hated having to say it. I didn't want to be separated from him for so long after having met him such a short time ago.

"You'll come to the casino and play, right? You won't be afraid about giving me space, will you?"

"I might swing by. What if I want to play at a _different_ casino?"

"Is this a trick question? Is there a hidden message?"

"Not really. I'm just trying to understand what you expect from me, and if it's something I can live with."

"It absolutely kills me to say this. I have no right to expect anything from you, nor do I have any claim over you. We are completely free from each other for six months. But in exactly six months, I want you at my house and ready."

"Ready for what?"

"You know damn well for what," he said roughly, bringing me into his arms.

"What if I fall in love with someone in that time?"

"Then I will have lost you."

I nodded. This was the hand dealt to me. A six-month break from a man I barely knew—but from a man who could steal my breath away with one look. This wasn't too horrible. I needed to work so I could fix my car anyway. I could live with this. Who knows what six months could bring?

A slow smile spread on Greyson's face. "Nadia, that all begins tomorrow. I still have you for tonight. You aren't allowed to sleep, remember. Doctor's orders."

"But what about the police? You told Remy you would go back to the casino."

He smiled. "I never told him what time. And you, sweetheart, are mine tonight."
Chapter 27

Greyson pulled his car to the front of the house, and we both got out. He stepped in front, blocking me from entering the house.

"I'm going to make a few phone calls to start issuing statements. I'll come find you in one hour," Greyson said.

"Is that a warning?"

"Take it however you want. I will find you."

"I don't know. Maybe I should make you wait for six months."

"That would hurt you as much as it would hurt me."

I smirked and walked into the house. The sound of laughter floated from the great room. I followed its happy melody and found Mya and Frankie. I had forgotten they were here.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Oh, Nadia! You're back! Where's Greyson?" Mya asked.

"He's here but has to make a few calls."

"Oh, that's too bad. I wanted to see him. I think David came to me in a dream. He tucked me in bed and was saying sweet things. He even said he was coming home soon. I don't know if I just dreamed him or if he's dead and his spirit came back. The whole thing was really confusing because it was so real."

"What does your heart tell you?"

"I'm hoping it's telling me he's still alive. I don't think his spirit would tell me he was coming back if he knew he was dead."

I nodded. "That sounds reasonable. Some people are soul mates, and it's been known they can feel and hear each other even when they are far apart."

"I never thought about it that way." She smiled. "I like that idea much better."

"Oh . . . Nadia," Frankie interrupted. "Before I forget to tell you, we have to be up and out of here by eight tomorrow morning. You have to pack so you can catch your plane."

"Eight o'clock is in a few hours. Why do I have to catch a plane? Where am I going?"

"You're playing in a segment of the Latin poker tour. I got you all hooked up."

"I have no money. How is this possible?"

"I used your money from the gigs to buy the airplane ticket. You're sharing a room to cut costs. But you'll need to win some money; otherwise you'll be stuck there."

A Frankie alarm clanged in my head. "Why would I be stuck there?"

"I could only afford a one-way ticket."

The clanging grew louder. I think it was telling me to kill Frankie. "You took my gig money and bought me a one-way plane ticket to where exactly?"

"I'm not sure. All those names are foreign."

"Where the hell am I going, Frankie?"

"I told you. It's in Latin."

"So . . . in South America?"

"Isn't Latin a country? I was never good at geography."

My eye twitched as the clanging grew deafening. "I'm going to go take a bath. I think I must be tired because I swear you told me I was flying to Latin tomorrow with no way of getting home. And I'm going to be sharing a room with an unknown person—and Latin is a country!"

"Don't get your value-pack panties in a bunch. It'll be good for you to travel outside of Vegas. I'm jealous! You'll meet all my Hispanic cousins."

"Frankie, you're a tenth Hispanic. You don't even know your heritage. You can't even say hello in Spanish."

"Who needs to say hello? Nobody here says it. And you need to spread your name out there. I have every confidence you'll win enough money to buy a ticket back home. If not, I have your dad on speed dial."

I stood to leave but was stalled by a thought. "By the way, did you happen to get the scorpion video from Catarina?"

"Yes, and I had to pay a fortune for it. I took it out of the gig money for promotional purposes."

I let out a threatening growl and stomped from the room. I retreated to Greyson's room with the hot tub in mind.

My body ached from all the beatings, and my head ached from Frankie and evil Catarina. That's why she had dinner with Greyson. She wanted money and was going to get it any way she could. I knew Greyson well enough to know he might have dinner with her but he wouldn't give her a penny. I was itching to ask him the details of the dinner. But I just couldn't. Besides, if anything had happened between Greyson and Catarina, he wouldn't be on my tail ready to pounce.

I should be hiding from Greyson right now. The way he had been looking at me was sinful. But he gave me an hour. I wanted his hot tub . . . and him. Even if it's just the physical piece, _God, what a physical piece!_

I turned the bathwater on, letting it run while I took off my clothes. My toe touched the water to test it. Perfect. I slid the rest of the way in and closed my eyes.

I let go of the urge to strangle Frankie, along with all the stress of the last few days. I only had two worries, but those could wait until after the bath. My first worry was Dagor still being on the loose. The second worry was Frankie still on the loose.

I'd have to research online to find where the Latin poker tour was being held. As for Dagor, I didn't know what to do about him. Maybe taking the trip to South America would get Dagor off my back. It could work.

"You look comfortable," Greyson said from the doorway.

"I am. I'm trying to relax, and your hot tub is making it so much easier."

I watched Greyson as he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, and let it fall to the floor. My pulse kicked up.

"You don't think you're coming in here, do you?" I asked.

"I know I am."

"This tub isn't big enough for both of us."

Greyson smiled. "It's a two-person hot tub."

"Only a pervert would buy a two-person hot tub."

He slipped off his belt and unbuttoned his pants. I watched as he slowly pulled down the zipper. I bit my lip.

"Only a pervert watches a man undress with such delight," he said.

"Touché."

"Move over or I'm dragging you out."

My eyes quickly darted from his particularly well-endowed parts to his eyes. "You wouldn't."

"You know I would."

I moved over and watched while he slid in from the opposite side of the tub.

"Your eyes are telling me a whole different story than your words," he said.

"You can't trust my eyes. They're still bruised. They don't make sense half the time."

"Let me kiss them and make them feel better."

"If you're kissing things that hurt, I have a whole list for you."

He smirked. "One thing at a time. I'm sure I'll check each item off your list before dawn."

"It's nearly dawn now."

"We better get started."

I boldly moved toward him. He watched me as intently as I had watched him. His hands grasped at my hips as I neared him, settling me on top.

"This is much better," he said.

I lowered my mouth to his. His hands ran up my back to my neck. He drew me in to deepen the kiss.

A cell phone rang in the distance. Greyson winced.

"Do you need to answer that?" I asked.

"Yes, but I don't want to."

I tried to move to the side, but his hands kept me in place.

"I'm trying to let you answer your phone."

"I don't want to."

"You said you need to."

"They can wait."

I shook my head. "No way. Both of us will be thinking about the phone call."

"I sure the hell wouldn't be thinking about a phone call. All I want is you."

"Then it might just be me who will be thinking about it. However, you'll leave as soon as we're done and make a phone call. If we were married for ten years, I might give you that luxury. But we aren't even dating, and you've been trying to coerce me to have sex with you for the last few days. Either I have you all to myself or the casino does."

He nodded, though his eyes were telling me he was somewhere else.

"Just go make your phone call and come back after," I said.

He gazed at me for a moment before standing to wrap a towel around himself. I relaxed into the tub as he retreated to the bedroom.

I'm sure if he was with one of his usual girls they would be quite happy to give him a quickie before he had to tend to business. I didn't like to dwell on his usual girls. I fidgeted in the tub. I gave up and drained the water. I heard Greyson on the phone as I wrapped the towel around me and tiptoed into the bedroom.

I spied him as I entered the room. He was near the unlit fireplace with the towel wrapped loosely around him. Perhaps he just needed me to reciprocate what he had given me our first night together. We could leave the sex part for six months from now. I'd desperately need it then. I smirked as the idea swirled in my brain. Hell, why not? It would keep him thinking about our planned date.

I snuck up behind him. He was so engaged in his phone call he didn't see or hear me. I looped my finger into the towel and tugged, letting it fall to the floor. Greyson was about to pick it up when I wrapped my arms around him. He turned to look at me. My eyes must have told the whole story because he said into the phone, "I think I need to go."

I shook my head.

He arched his brow. "I don't have to go?"

I whispered, "No."

He continued his phone conversation while watching my every move. I made sure to stay quiet while I kissed his chest and then moved lower to his abs. I kept my eye on him as I continued to move lower. His eyes grew wider and wider, until . . . "Oh, sweetheart!"

"Uh, no, not you," he said into the phone. "Never mind. Just go on with what you were saying." Greyson tried to grasp my arm to stand me up.

I smiled at him but stayed where I was.

He was growing tenser by the moment. It was taking everything he had to hold back. It made me want him more. I gave him more play time, grabbing his butt as my tongue flicked and teased. He groaned.

"No, I just stubbed my toe. I seriously need to go. Call me back when you have the release ready. No. . . . not release . . . the . . . whatever it is you're doing," he said and hung up.

"Nadia, get up now," he said with urgency.

I peeked up with a smirk. "I'm just giving you a good-bye gift."

"It's time for me to give you a good-bye gift."

My eyes widened. "No, it's okay."

"No, really. I need to properly thank you for making me sound like an ass on the phone. Look, I'm even turning off my phone."

I laughed as I hurried away. He had me within his reach in a few steps, ripping my towel away. He captured me and carried me toward the bed. We both fell on it, with him landing firmly on top of me.

Greyson grinned at me before he slid lower. I grasped at him to pull him back.

"It's my gift," he said.

I felt his warm breath, the stubble on his face, his lips, and then . . . _oh, God!_

Chapter 28

I lay on top of Greyson, trying to regulate my breath. "Greyson, I don't think we can give gifts anymore. I'm all gifted out."

"Are you all gifted out for six months?"

"I think I'm gifted out for two years."

"Good."

My phone buzzed. I reached to grab it off the nightstand. It was a text from an unknown number. It must be David.

Watch the morning news. It's my wedding gift to you.

_Wedding gift?_ I showed the message to Greyson. His eyebrows shot up. He flipped on the television and found the channel. I shrugged on a robe.

"It should be on in a couple of minutes," he said.

"Why did he say wedding gift? It doesn't make any sense."

"He likes to egg me on. This is just another way to mess with me."

"Gee, I didn't know marrying me would be a source of conflict."

"You misunderstood me."

"It's on," I said. My eyes widened as I watched the video of an aerial view of a house on fire. It looked like Dagor's house.

" _An eight-building explosion lit up the Vegas skyline last night as fire and emergency crews responded to the calls,"_ said the news anchor _. "All buildings, including a house belonging to Dagor Moliente_ , _are reduced to ashes. As crews sift through the wreckage, no casualties have been found. Investigators say this was no accident as several explosives and accelerants were used to make the powerful explosions. Police are still looking for Dagor Moliente."_

Greyson and I looked at each other briefly but didn't have time to say anything when the next story hit.

" _In other news,_ " the anchor continued, " _Lost City Casino has been found with dirty money. A printing press in the casino was found pumping out millions of dollars worth of counterfeit money. Jason Biggs has been arrested for counterfeiting and attempted murder. Greyson Miller, CEO of Rotunda Casinos, found the printing press late last night in a storage room at Lost City Casino. He was shot by Jason Biggs moments later. Sources say Miller is already out of the hospital and recovering. Workers who were the last to see Greyson Miller say he was planning on marrying professional poker player Nadia Wolf this weekend. No word on if the wedding will proceed."_

I heard an "eek" and running footsteps down the hall. Mya burst through the doors and squealed, "You didn't tell me you're getting married! I'm so happy!"

"It was a joke," I said to Greyson. "They can't really think we're getting married."

"It looks like they did," he said. He watched Mya, who was still bouncing up and down. "Mya, it's not true. Nadia and I don't have any plans to get married. In fact, we aren't going to see each other for six months."

Mya's smile fell. "Six months?"

"I have to get the casino back on its feet. If I tried to date Nadia during that time, both of you would end up hating me."

"But . . ."

"It's okay, Mya," I said. "I'm flying to South America tomorrow."

Greyson turned to me. "You are?"

I shrugged. "Frankie told me when we got back."

"Mya, can you give Nadia and me a moment? We need to get ready to go."

"Sure." Mya closed the door on her way out.

"So, do I need to be worried about fighting off a Brazilian or Argentinean man?"

"According to our agreement, I'm free for six months. I might have a desire to try out the South American _men_ u." I kept my poker face in full force. I nearly let out a laugh, but I wanted to see what Greyson had to say.

He growled instead. "Just remember our date in six months."

"Six months is so far away. I've heard South American men are known for their sexual prowess."

Greyson eyed me. "You're just screwing with me. I can see right through your poker face."

I chuckled. "I need to get back to work. My poker face is suffering."

He kissed my forehead. "Come on. I'll scrub you down in the shower. You can work on your poker face while I try my hardest to break it."

* * *

Frankie dropped me off at the airport. He called to me as I was rushing through the departure door. "Don't forget to send me a postcard. And give me status updates so I can update the website."

I gave him a wave and ran to the departures. A long line brought me to a dead halt. There was no way I could check my bag and make it to the gate before it boarded. I already had my ticket Frankie preprinted. I'd have to abandon my bag if I wanted to catch the plane.

I'm going to kill Frankie. I told him I didn't need to color coordinate. Just give me jeans and a hoodie and I'm good to go.

I left my bag behind a plant and called Frankie to come back and pick it up. I rushed to security. It was another long line, but they had enough stations open that I whisked through with five minutes to spare.

I raced through the crowded airport. _This is ridiculous!_ _Why am I killing myself to board a plane to a place I don't want to go to?_

Then again, what did I have to keep me in Vegas? Just another day sitting at a poker table. I guess I may as well sit at a poker table where I don't understand the language. It could help my game.

The attendant scanned my ticket, and I raced down the gateway. I skidded onto the plane.

I was seat C11. I read the numbers as I made my way down the aisle. I stopped at C and D 11. I slid into my seat and took a breath before I peeked at my seat neighbor.

"Oh, come on!" I cried. It was Caleb. I scrambled out of my seat to make a dash for the door.

"It's too late," he said. "They closed the doors."

He was right. The doors were closed. "What's going on? Why are you here?"

"I'm playing in the Latin poker tour. Why are you here? I heard you were going to marry Greyson this weekend."

"Frankie said I was playing in the tournament. That other thing is a rumor."

"Where are you staying?"

I shuffled through the papers Frankie had given me. "Hotel Destino del Sur."

"That's where I'm staying. Do you know what room?"

"Frankie scribbled in the corner. It looks like the Romantico Suite."

"Frankie set you up with this?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nadia, I'm booked in the Romantico Suite."

My eyes widened as his turned hungry.

"Looks like I'm collecting on my weekend sooner than I thought I would. Here I assumed the Romantico Suite would be wasted."

I gulped.

A brief commotion arose a few rows behind us. I turned to see what the problem was.

"Sir, you can have a drink once we're in the air, and you're not allowed to touch any of the flight attendants. This is your last warning or you'll be escorted off the plane," a flight attendant said.

"All right, baby," said a familiar voice. "Just get me that drink as soon as we're in the air. If you want a little something after duty, you know where I am."

The flight attendant hurried down the aisle to distance herself from Dagor. I didn't blame her. His gaze followed her until she flew past me. His eyes widened at the sight of me seated only a few rows up. He reddened briefly, and an evil sneer crept on his face. He formed a gun with his hand and squeezed the imaginary trigger at me. He mouthed, "You're dead."

I quickly turned in my seat to evade Dagor's line of vision. He had to be fleeing from the police and was heading to the same destination. A killer was on the plane with me. He was only a few rows behind me and could sneak up and kill me while I was napping at thirty thousand feet. Or he might wait and shoot me outside my hotel. Either way, my one-way ticket didn't seem like my biggest problem anymore. It seemed like a promise.

"Nadia, what's wrong? You're turning white," Caleb said.

"I need to get off this plane."

Caleb peeked out the window. "We're on the runway. You're not getting off this plane anytime soon. If you're afraid to fly, I can help you forget you're on a plane." He smiled and took my hand into his. He brought my hand up to his lips, softly kissing the tip of each finger. I watched intently as he placed each kiss carefully and with an underlying agenda, giving the kisses much more meaning. "Since you aren't marrying Greyson this weekend, I'll be collecting on our wager you lost."

The plane raced down the runway and soared into the sky. I was pressed back into my seat before I could argue. Caleb wanted to collect on his wager. Dagor was going to kill me. And I was on a plane with no money and no way of returning home.

I'm going to kill Frankie!
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next Nadia Wolf novel:

High Stakes

High Stakes

I awoke to a dark room. It was quiet. I knew right then I wasn't in Las Vegas. My apartment at All Celebrities Chapel was on a busy street. Traffic streamed past it at all hours of the night. This place was too quiet.

A movement on the bed and the warmth of a leg touching mine sent me scurrying from the bed and into the darkness.

"Nadia, are you okay?" a groggy voice asked.

"Where am I?"

"At the hotel."

"Who are you?"

"Caleb."

Memories fast-forwarded like a film reel half off its spokes. I remembered the plane and parts of the poker tournament. But then it's hazy at best and mostly just blank after that.

Caleb shifted to sit up. "Come back to bed. You're jet lagged."

"Did we sleep together?"

"Do you mean sleep in the same bed? Yes. But if you mean sex, then no, we didn't."

I let out a sigh of relief. If I was going to sleep with Caleb, I wanted to be clean. I also wanted to remember it since I was pretty sure it would only be a one-time adventure. A thrilling one-time adventure.

"I want to shower."

"It's three in the morning."

"I'm disgusting. I've been in the same clothes for two days."

"You're not wearing any clothes."

"What?" I shrieked. My hands flew to my stomach. I felt around but only came in contact with skin. "Did you strip me?" I searched for the nearest object to launch at him.

"I carried you in from the taxi ride. You were totally passed out. I tucked you into bed, and five minutes later you were mumbling about smelly cheese and began flinging off your clothes."

"Why didn't you stop me?"

"You were obviously sleeping, and it was entertaining."

I could detect by the sound of his voice that he was smiling.

I groaned. "Are you naked too?"

"Yes. Would you care to peek?"

"No! I can't believe you got naked too."

"It seemed only fair."

"There could have been a serious accident of colliding body parts."

He chuckled. "You were so sweet and snuggled right up against me."

"I'm not sweet. That snuggle was unintentional."

"Play it how you want. I'm going back to sleep."

I growled and stomped to the bathroom. I was desperate for a shower. It might wash off the airplane funk and the Caleb funk burgeoning my mind.

**Keep reading** High Stakes

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Security Squad

Biker Brigade

Fearsome Foursome

Nadia Wolf Novels

The Big Blind

High Stakes

Cashing Out

Squeeze Play

The Last Tailored Suit

My Traitor

Pocketful of Diamonds

Last Hand

Metal Girls Trilogy

Melting Point

Critical Point

Breaking Point

Loved by Reese

When Rio Surrenders

 When Rome Falls

When Edinburgh Dreams

When Sydney Loves

 When London Calls

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