by Iverson, Ivy
“What?”
“Game on, prince.”
Chapter Six
He hissed as the dealer simulation on his laptop screen flipped his cards. The damn computer had a straight flush, and all he had was a pair of sevens. Alex cursed and brought his fist down hard on the wood of the desk beside him. Pain lanced through his fist instantly, but damn if he wasn’t frustrated. He’d been playing video poker for over two hours on this machine, and he’d been riding a high streak; he was actually up a couple grand after coming up with a full house in the clutch. Now he’d had three shitty hands in a row and was back in the red. Alex shook out his hand and was about to click the mouse to start another round when he saw the clock in the corner of the screen.
Damn, seven o’clock already.
He had showered that morning but he’d skipped shaving. Fuck it; he’d just risk the stubble. His five o’clock shadow wasn’t that drastic. Rushing to his closet, he shoved on some dark jeans and a black silk button down shirt. Grabbing his wallet, he hurried out of his room and to his car that was parked in the private section of the garage his cousin managed. The Porsche was waiting for him, a silvery number he’d actually won betting the Prince of Monaco over the results of a polo match three years prior.
That had been one of his greatest victories.
Forget the car.
The shit-eating grin on that stuck up bastard had been more than enough reward. The sweet ride was only a bonus. Pushing that baby to first gear, he sped into Vegas traffic and hoped it’d be decent enough even on a Monday night to get to Zora Bar in a timely fashion. He wanted to show Kate how serious he was, and blowing her off or making some weak excuse about traffic would never do.
It had been damn hard to pull away from the game though.
It always was.
Even after therapy and threats—from rehab to washing out here in America—he couldn’t resist betting. Whether it was a quick chess match like in the park or the myriad online accounts he kept up even now, despite the fact he wasn’t nearly as wealthy as he had been. Oh, he had savings, and it was more than most people would see in a lifetime, but it wasn’t a royal estate anymore, and if he kept burning through money like this, then soon enough he’d be in real trouble.
God, he might even have to get a job.
Not like he had any damn skills to offer, unless some place on the strip was hiring dealers. That he knew how to do.
But he should give it up. He’d promised he would when he ended up in Vegas and on his cousin’s charity, but he’d failed. Even after the spectacular fight and disowning by his parents, even after his exile, within two days the siren song had been too much and he’d been lured back to everything, starting his own online accounts under filters so secret that he prayed to God that no one ever found them.
Publicly, with his cousin—also his jailer of late—he was always avoiding casinos or even watching sports because he had the tendency to make gentlemanly bets on those as well. In secret? He was a damn mess and he knew it. He had the credit card bills from a dozen gambling sites to prove as much.
It was costing him everything, literally, but he couldn’t get away from it.
He craved the high of a good streak more than anything else, and he had fuck all idea how to break that hold over him. To be fair, no so-called professional had ever offered anything to help him that had done a damn bit of good either.
Pulling into the valet parking out front, he tossed his keys to the attendant and walked into the bar. It was then that his face fell. He hadn’t realized that Zora Bar had a casino attached to it.
It was nothing grandiose like the Bellagio, but there were slot machines whirring, a roulette wheel spinning, and cards tables almost beckoning him with green felt so bright it was like looking at grassy and open fields in the low light.
He almost made a beeline directly for them.
Instead, he clenched his fists at his side and walked over to the hostess and asked where Kate Morrison was. She gestured to a black lacquered table that was situated very closely to the card tables. Of course he’d have the luck to have a front row seat to other people gambling. The devil wouldn’t want his creative punishment to go to waste, would he?
He forced himself to smile and, once she stood, it wasn’t hard to let it fall into a real one. She was beautiful, dressed in a short red dress that hugged her curves, especially that delicious ass of hers that he’d had such promising glimpses of the day before. It was also cut high on her thighs and he loved seeing even more of the expanse of unblemished skin there. There was a wrap on her ankle, and he noticed she’d worn sandals instead of heels, and he couldn’t blame her for that.
“You look amazing, Kate,” he said, giving her a polite kiss on the cheek before helping push in her chair. Normally, he’d have kissed her outright, but she was skittish already. She clearly wanted control and to play things slowly. He was going to have to play along to get her to trust him; that much he knew.
She sat and grinned up at him. The mascara really brought out the sparkling sapphire of her eyes; Kate was a damn revelation and, suddenly, his pants were far too tight.
She smirked and gestured to her dress. “This old thing?”
“Really?”
“God no. I can admit that. My friend and I went on an emergency mall trip and raided three department stores. This is what her expert eye could find.”
“At least you’re honest,” he said. He gestured for the waiter and paused long enough to order a Scotch before adding, “Wasn’t that hell on your ankle?”
“Well, uh,” she said, oddly fumbling a little. “First I did the urgent care thing and it’s just a sprain, but we went and I found some places to sit while she did the dress pulling so it was team work, but I’m glad you like it. I was afraid it might be a bit too short.”
It’s not short enough, not with your legs.
But he couldn’t say that out loud so he continued to smile. “I think it’s perfect. Actually, your whole story makes me feel better.”
“Does it?”
“Yes, yesterday it felt like pulling teeth. I thought you’d only set this up as a nice way to blow me off—but you don’t stress shop in that circumstance. You’d have pulled out something from your closet, so I have to admit I feel much, much better about that.”
“Well, you never know. Maybe if this date goes south I can pick up one of the high rollers at the table,” she said, grinning as she gestured to the nearest Black Jack table.
Alex watched, mesmerized as the dealer revealed his second card. He had fifteen and the guy playing was at sixteen and the idiot was going to hold. Like that was smart—just wait to recoup another round? Yeah right.
Ask for a hit and you won’t bust, idiot!
“Alex?” Kate asked, concern coloring her words. “You got so quiet. Your drink is here, don’t you want it.”
He wiped at his brow. God, had he just zoned out like that? Was he sweating? It was taking everything he had to stay in the seat. Just a game or two…would that really be so bad? But he knew it would be. His cousin had connections all over town and would figure it out and then report it to his parents. And he could kiss any chance of being king goodbye.
“I’m fine,” he said, assuming his biggest, most polite smile and then taking a sip of Scotch. It burned down his throat but he welcomed it. The acidity of it kept him from panicking and feeling terrible. He wasn’t going to be weak, not here. He was not going to lose everything. “So, when you’re not jogging, what do you like to do?”
“Well, I work at one of the hotels. It’s not that exciting, just reception stuff. I can find you any deal on a show in Vegas though. I know everyone.”
“I don’t need it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Money, huh? I could tell with your Rolex and stuff, but can I say ‘ouch?’”
He bit his lip and nodded. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to say it like that. Some things just come out.”
“Maybe you need to work on that,
” she teased. “But, yeah, and I have a sister I look after named Lily. I exercise or watch movies—unfortunately too many Pixar and Disney of late when I bite the bullet and go to the theater. What about you?”
“You know, the usual. In this climate? I admit the pool’s pretty fun. I’ll go to dinner with my cousin and his wife, nothing that exciting.”
“Play chess,” she pointed out. “Don’t take this personally but you do not look like the chess type.”
“And what does the chess type look like, princess,” he asked, amused by that statement.
“Pale, never seen sunlight and about ten pounds skinnier than me. You look like a damn body builder, you know?”
“I’m not a gym rat, myself, but I don’t know…chess was always something I shared with my father. Besides, it’s the ultimate mental competition, the test of will and instinct but also logic. It’s heady; don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it because I really don’t think that’s true,” she countered.
“Maybe,” he said, glancing over to where the dealer had twenty and the terrible player was busting at twenty-three. He watched the dealer sweep all those blue chips back to his side and Alex just shook his head. He knew he could do better.
Damn it.
“Ma’am, sir,” a voice called.
He smiled back at the waiter. “I’m not sure if we were going to order any appetizers from the bar yet.”
“No, it’s not that, sir,” the guy said, and he was young, maybe twenty-two if he were a day. “These are yours,” he said, handing them about a hundred dollars in chips. “You’re our lucky two hundredth customer of the day and we do a promotion. So please enjoy our tables.”
Alex took them because the kid scurried away too fast to refuse.
“I’m not sure if we should,” he said, passing them to Kate.
She grinned devilishly and stood. “Nah, let’s be wild. After all, Alex, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Chapter Seven
Alex was hesitating.
This wasn’t what Kate had been expecting. Everything she’d observed with him casually at his hotel, the files she’d read, and especially his chess games had told her that the errant Godonov prince never backed down from a challenge. So why was he sitting there merely playing with his chips? He should be rushing to the Black Jack table right then to utterly smash and ruin his reputation. That was the damn plan.
She had a friend from high school who was the casino floor manager. She’d explained everything about her needs and the plan to help save Lily, and he’d been more than happy to arrange the happy horseshit about the “two hundredth customer special.” Kate had been sure that only a few feet from a dealer table and with tons of chips beckoning him that Alex would be sure to go.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing for the last chip still in his hand to match the stack she held. "We really should take them up on their offer. It’s just polite, you know?”
He grimaced but kept his grip on the chip. Spinning it between his fingers, Alex shook his head. “I can’t. Like I said, gambling’s not really my thing. It’s not for me.”
“You’re not some Bible thumper, right?”
“No, it’s just not an interest—even with someone else’s money,” he said. “Hey, I’ll show you a trick, if you want?”
“What kind?” He grinned then and it lit up the whole bar. Even if it was against her carefully orchestrated plan, Kate sat down and leaned across the table toward him. “Alright, so what’s the trick?”
“It’s magical,” he replied. “Now, look,” he said, holding up his arm. “There’s nothing up my sleeve.” He then did the same thing with the opposite arm. “There’s nothing anywhere. But that isn’t what magic is about.” He counted to three, all while holding the chip between his fingers, and then waved his right hand in front of it. When he removed his right hand, there was nothing there.
“That’s not bad,” she said, clapping.
“Au contraire, mademoiselle, I’m not done yet,” he corrected, reaching behind her ear and pulling out the small blue chip from that spot. “Was this your chip?”
She chuckled. “Now we know if Penn and Teller or David Copperfield retires where they can find a replacement.”
“Parlor tricks,” he said, still smiling that wide, bright smile. “But you should see the other tricks I can pull.”
“I’ll bet,” she said, feeling her face flush.
Waving desperately to the waiter, she ordered a second Chardonnay, making small talk with him until they brought it to her. She took three long draughts to drain the glass. This wasn’t right, not at all. She wasn’t supposed to like him; she wasn’t supposed to imagine those long fingers and skillful hands caressing her. Her whole body wasn’t supposed to be warmed and a bit floaty from even thinking about him.
The alcohol was probably a terrible idea, but she needed anything she could muster in order to keep her from panicking. She needed anything she could drink to keep her from just blurting out her whole ruse. Seeing this kinder side of him—this hesitant side—Kate wasn’t as sure of her plan as she wanted to be.
“Hey, Kate, are you okay?” he asked, eyes coloring with concern.
“I…sure,” she fumbled, not used to being the one out of control here. She’d been so careful to keep everything on plan and on target, and now she felt like her whole head was spinning. She was saved from having to say more when a song started to play through the sound system.
Alex brightened and, standing, offered her one large, warm hand to take. “All of Me, I love this song. Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, princess?”
She blushed again and looked to all the gamblers and drinkers. None of them even seemed to realize there was music let alone be in a hurry to dance. “I don’t know. I’m not sure that we’re supposed to.”
“Princess, I might not be feeling up to taking that other type of gamble,” he said, leading her to an open bit of casino floor by the bar. “But let’s actually have some fun, you know?”
She nodded and found herself too drawn to him to fight. Kate feigned a bit of a limp, even now, keen to keep up her ruse. Still, the alcohol was working through her system now and she felt both light-headed and as if time were standing still. Despite better judgment, Kate gave into how she felt, into the thrall that one Prince Alexander Godonov seemed to have her in. Leaning on his muscular chest, she let him hold her tight as they swayed in time to the swelling piano chorus.
He smelled even better up close, so rugged and male.
How could she even think to use him?
Was she wrong?
As the song drew to a finish, she put her hand on his chest. “I think it’s time to head home, don’t you?”
He frowned, looking genuinely hurt before he recovered and kissed her cheek again. “Whatever you want, princess”
Don’t I wish…
***
“So,” she said, as he pulled into park outside her modest one story stucco number in the suburbs. It had been her parents’ home and she’d had just enough after insurance to be able to pay its upkeep and taxes even now. It was the humble place she and Lily had called home together for five years all alone. “This is my place.”
“Can I come in?”
She shook her head and frowned. “My sister lives with me and she’s eight. She’s too little to understand, and it’s a first date. I just can’t.”
He nodded but stroked her shoulder. “Can I offer you anything else?”
She blushed and, yes, the wine she shouldn’t have drunk was definitely working overtime with her. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
He leaned in closer, and it would have been so easy to kiss him, to stretch the rest of the distance and feed that strange fire burning between them. She hesitated but he didn’t.
Suddenly soft lips were on hers and it was the best and worst thing she’d ever felt. The best because she’d like nothing more than to
stay here forever and explore his body with her mouth, but the worst because he was just a means to an end, and she had to remember that, no matter how hard it was.
Pulling back, she made a hurried excuse and bolted from the car and quickly inside her home.
And away from temptation.
Chapter Eight
As she rushed into her kitchen, Kate pulled out a glass and poured herself a huge glass of water directly from the refrigerator. Taking large gulps, she let the cool liquid slide down her throat and hoped that it would help sober her up a bit. Okay, a lot. Because she obviously wasn’t thinking straight, not if she was letting him kiss her.
No, scratch that.
She didn’t let him kiss her. He leaned in and she was more than eager to be an active participant. Even thinking about those soft, pillowy lips of his had her shaking again and she reached out for a roll from the breadbasket as well. Kate had only had three glasses of wine, but it suddenly felt like her whole world was spinning.
Striding into the den, she tried to paste on the biggest smile she could. There, her friend—and free sitter—Joan was hunched over the carpet alongside her little sister, Lily. They were immersed in what they were doing, decorating the cardboard liberally with the green and deep purple of the Rattler’s team colors. They were the local baseball team, a 2A, and they had a free game night on Saturdays. Kids under ten got to attend for free and once a month there was a huge fireworks show after the game.
Lily adored it.
In turn, Kate adored anything that lit up her sister’s face with joy.
Both her best friend and her little sister were pretty wrapped up in what they were doing, and she almost hated to interrupt them. Then she noticed a rather large glop of violet paint on the tile and coughed. “Excuse me, Joan, are you kidding?”
“Hey,” her friend said, pushing a long strand of black hair behind her ears. “You were supposed to be home a little later. Did everything go okay?”