Two Billionaires in Vegas: A Halloween MFM Romance (Love by Numbers Book 1)

by Casey, Nicole

  “Do you want to head to the club?” I asked, breaking the silence.

  It took Caleb a moment to look up, but when he did, his face was lost until he could mask. “Nah,” he said, “I think I’m just going to take a nap. I’m pretty tired.”

  “It must be tiring having the ladies throwing themselves at you all the time,” I joked. It was an old inside joke from back in the marines, just something stupid we’d say to each other. I hoped it would make him laugh.

  He didn’t, though he did manage a smile. “It’s the blond hair. They can’t resist.”

  “Why don’t you sleep here?” I suggested. “You can take my room. I won’t be using it for hours.”

  I prayed Caleb said yes. Though I didn’t know if he’d ever do anything to himself, I still didn’t like the idea of him being locked in his house, a slave to his own mind.

  Caleb thought about it. “That’s a good idea,” he eventually replied. “I’m too tired to drive right now.”

  “Cool. I’m going to the club for a few hours--I have a mountain of paperwork waiting for me--and when I get back, we can order some food. How does that sound?”

  His mouth spread in the approximation of a smile. “Sounds great.”

  We headed to my bedroom and he stripped down to his undershirt and boxers before flopping on my bed. “Thanks for everything, Jack,” he said, closing his eyes.

  “Of course,” I replied. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

  He didn’t say anything, probably uncomfortable by the sincerity of my words, but he nodded and settled in.

  I walked into the bathroom right off my bedroom and turned the shower on and disrobed, tossing the dirty clothes in the hamper.

  The shower was divine. As a six-feet, four-inches tall weightlifter, I’m a pretty big guy and tend to work up a huge sweat running in the afternoon Las Vegas heat.

  The warm water soothed the ache in my muscles, loosening them up. I lingered in the shower a few minutes longer than I needed to before forcing myself to get out. After drying off, I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked back into my bedroom to grab clean clothes.

  Caleb was sound asleep by that time, snoring softly with his arm flung over his head. Thank God, I thought to myself, happy he was able to escape his thoughts for a time. I hoped that by the time he woke, he’d be feeling a little more like himself.

  Ten minutes later, I was dressed, my hair was styled, and I was out the door. Before I locked the door, I’d left Caleb a water bottle on the nightstand. I didn’t know how much he’d had to drink before he got to my place, but he’d surely need some hydration by the time he awoke.

  * * *

  Parking behind the club, I walked through the back door toward the elevator. Thankfully, I didn’t run into anyone on the way. Not that I’d ever tell him, but Caleb’s mood brought down my own enough so that I just didn’t feel like dealing with anyone at the moment.

  Reaching the elevator, I punched in the code only Caleb and I knew, and waited for the doors to open. When they finally did, I stepped inside.

  Once on the second floor, I unlocked the door to my office, walked in, and locked it back up. I didn’t worry about any of our employees coming up here, but locking doors behind myself was a habit. I hadn’t escaped the marines totally free of paranoia. A locked door helped me feel secure. Sort of.

  I glanced around the office, taking in the two desks at either side of the room, the small sitting area between them. We’d decorated in dark browns and the room felt distinctly masculine.

  I sat down at my desk and looked at the stack of papers piled high before me. It was unlikely I would get through them all by the time went home, but I could at least make a dent. There were plenty of perks that came with owning a successful club, but the more successful something was, the more work you often have to put back into.

  Our club, the Overground, hadn’t even been open a year yet and we were already wildly successful. It nearly gave us whiplash just how successful it was. We’d somehow managed to triple our investment in the first month and a half, bringing in higher revenue each week since then. It was unprecedented.

  Granted, Vegas was the perfect place for our particular club, the kind of club people loved to visit while on vacation, far from anyone who knew them.

  After about two hours of staring at invoices and inventory lists and a ton of other things, I rose from my chair and stretched, my joints popping as I did so. At thirty-three, it wasn’t too surprising I sounded like popcorn when I stood, especially after spending so long in the marines. However, it did remind me I wasn’t getting any younger, that as time passed, more and more problems with my body would inevitably arise. I didn’t plan to fight aging, but between eating well and exercising, I hoped to put it off a little.

  I headed down the stairs and walked through the hallway that led me out to the club. Despite being a weeknight, the club was bustling with people. That certainly put a smile on my face.

  One of our bartenders, Seth, nodded at me when he saw me approaching the bar. “How’s it going, boss?” he asked.

  “Good,” I said, “I’ve just been upstairs working.”

  Seth’s dark eyes took in the exhaustion on my face and grabbed a bottle of our finest scotch. “You need a drink, yo.”

  Chuckling, I said, “Why do you think I came over here?”

  Seth grinned and poured my drink, sliding it across the counter to me. It stopped right in front of my hand and I grabbed it.

  “Thanks,” I said, raising my glass to him and drinking.

  “No problem!” he said and moved on to take another order.

  I did a lap around the club, stopping to chitchat with some of the regulars.

  About twenty minutes later, I walked back to the hallway. Rather than heading upstairs, I opened another door and began to descend the stairs. A familiar anticipation filled my stomach just as it did each time I went down to the crowning jewel of our club, the real moneymaker.

  * * *

  Caleb was awake by the time I got home, redressed and looking through a stack of menus I kept in my kitchen drawer. He looked up when I walked in, and I was relieved to see he looked well-rested and more like himself.

  “Hey, man,” he said when I slumped into a chair across from him. “How’d it go at the club?”

  “It was good,” I admitted. “Really good. It was packed, both the upstairs and downstairs.”

  He smiled at me, nodding. “Good, that’s what I like to hear.”

  “The numbers are all looking good too. Strong. We’re looking at another record-breaking month.” I leaned forward and flipped through the menus spread out on the coffee table.

  “I still can’t believe how well we’re doing,” Caleb said, looking thoughtful. “I’ve always heard businesses are lucky to break even their first year and here we are killing it.”

  Selecting the menu from a nearby Chinese restaurant, I replied, “Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard too. But you were totally right when you said Vegas needed something special, something we could provide for them.”

  The smile Caleb gave me was pleased. I was happy to see it.

  “How about Chinese?” I asked.

  “That sounds good.”

  We both looked over the menu and I called in our orders. While we waited for the food to arrive, I flipped on the TV and turned it to a boxing match I knew was tonight. My stomach was just starting to rumble when someone knocked at the door. I handed the delivery man a fifty dollar bill and told him to keep the change.

  The menus brushed aside, boxes of Chinese food covered the coffee table. I liked ordering a lot so I’d have leftovers on the nights I came home too tired to make something myself or even wait for food to be delivered. I also liked to send Caleb home with leftovers, knowing he’s a lot more likely to remember to eat if he already has the food in his fridge.

  At some point, I dozed off in my chair, not waking until silence replaced the buzz of the TV.

  “Sorry,” Ca
leb said, setting the remote back down on the coffee table. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “That’s alright,” I said, scrubbing a hand down my face. When I looked up, I noticed he had his wallet, keys, and phone gathered in his hand. “Why don’t you just sleep here?”

  “I already slept here today, Jackson,” he said, faux-exasperation in his voice.

  “Yeah yeah,” I said, “but it’s getting late. You know I have the room.”

  “I know, but I’ll be fine.” His face grew serious. “I’m feeling a lot better now. Thank you for putting up with me today.”

  “You’d do the same for me,” I said simply, knowing it was true. “You have before.”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  I knew I had to let him go. I snatched a few of the containers of Chinese food and put them in a bag, handing it over to Caleb.

  Following him to the door, I said, “I’ll call in the cavalry if you don’t call me when you get home.”

  “Sure thing, Dad,” Caleb retorted, rolling his eyes and slugging me playfully on my arm.

  After Caleb left, I headed to the bathroom and got ready for bed. Stripping out of my clothes, I saw that Caleb remade my bed after he slept in it, in perfect military fashion. Sighing, I could only hope he’d learn to extend the same care and kindness that he showed me to himself.

  One day, I told myself, one day.

  Erin

  After only three days of wedding festivities, I was ready to run away as far and as fast as I could. Unfortunately, if I wanted to keep my friendships intact, that wasn’t exactly an option.

  So far, each night had been filled with group outings, hardly giving me the chance to enjoy my first vacation since I graduated from law school and was hired by a law firm. The activities were really weighing on me. It was hard being surrounded by happy people when I felt like roadkill. Given there was still a week of it, I didn’t know how I’d survive.

  Tonight, we were all out to dinner at a nice restaurant, one I’d never been to before, but I found it impossible to enjoy myself. Somehow I’d ended up sandwiched between Greer, who couldn’t stop hugging and kissing and whispering sweet nothings to John on her other side, and one of John’s groomsmen and his wife. Neither couple was purposefully ignoring me and I didn’t blame them for being so wrapped up in each other--after all, when Braxton and I were still together, we did the same thing--but it didn’t prevent me from being miserable.

  But I sat there quietly and ate my dinner, wishing the night would end. After dinner, we all headed back to the hotel John and the groomsmen were staying at for a game night in their suite.

  Normally, I loved game nights, but I found nothing could improve my mood. A half hour into a game of Sorry! with Sascha, John, and one of John’s friends, I’d reached my limit.

  I leaned over to Sascha and whisper, “I have a headache. I think I’m going to take a car back to the hotel and call it a night.”

  Worry crossed her face and I suddenly felt guilty for lying to my best friend. “Do you want me to come with you?” she asked.

  “Oh, no, I’ll be okay. I’m just going to put on my sweats and go to sleep.”

  Still frowning, Sascha said, “Text me if you need me, okay?”

  My face softened. “Of course.” I kissed the top of her head and snuck out of the suite as quietly and quickly as I could. I thanked my lucky stars that no one tried to stop me.

  The hotel had been stifling, but with the night air on my face, I felt my mood immediately lifted. Thankfully, John’s hotel was near the Strip where I could find a place to grab a drink.

  I began walking toward it, relishing in the night air and smiling at the people, mostly drunk, I passed along the way.

  Though I lived in Las Vegas, I rarely made it to this side of town and really only came down here when I had someone from out of town visiting. It was fun seeing all the lights by myself for the first time, just taking in the ambiance that made Vegas a truly unique city.

  After about ten minutes, I found a bar and slipped inside and was immediately disappointed. Mellow jazz music filled the air from the band up on the small stage. People sat at small circular tabled, chatting with each other or simply sitting there, enjoying the music. Weirdly, the place was decked out in Halloween decorations and had small pumpkin centerpieces on each table, skeletons and bats hanging from the ceiling, and fake cobwebs decorating the corners.

  While it was a place I’d love to visit any other time, perhaps on a date that wasn’t during Halloween, it just wasn’t what I was looking for at the moment. After spending time with Greer and my other friends for the last few days, I wanted something different, a place I could lose myself in. Somewhere I could be just another anonymous woman in the crowd, drinking and dancing to the loud music.

  My friend made me sorely tempted to break my no-guys-for-a-year rule just to have a meaningless hookup. Maybe if I met someone interesting enough.

  I made my way to the bar and waited for the bartender. He finished up with a customer and walked over.

  “Hey,” he said, “what can I get you?” He was kind of cute in a former football player sort of way.

  “I was actually wondering if you could help me.”

  “Sure, what do you need?”

  “I’m looking for a club, somewhere I can dance.”

  The bartender thought about it for a moment. “I know just the place,” he said. “The Overground on Fremont St.”

  I frowned, hoping there was somewhere closer. Going to Fremont St. would mean I’d have to call a taxi or an Uber.

  “Is there anywhere closer?” I asked.

  “There probably is, but the Overground is the place to be,” the bartender replied. “It’s fun. You’ll like it.”

  “Okay, thanks!” I said and left the jazz bar.

  Once I was outside, I contemplated my options. I could look for another club on the Strip or I could head to the club the bartender recommended. Unsure, I pulled out my phone and looked up the Overground on Facebook to see the reviews. They had tons of five-star reviews with people raving about how fun the club was.

  That cemented my decision. I wanted someplace fun to kill a few hours.

  Opening the Uber app, I requested a ride. Not quite four minutes later, a driver pulled up in a small white car and I hopped in.

  “How you doing tonight?” the driver asked. He had a New York accent and looked to be in his early thirties.

  “I’m good,” I said. “How about you?”

  “Not nearly as good as you’ll be in a few minutes,” he joked.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. Was it because he knew I was headed to a club and would likely be drinking?

  I smiled and looked out the window while he drove.

  A few minutes later, he stopped the car in front of a typical looking club. The building was black and had the words “The Overground” in flashing bright lights.

  I thanked the driver for the ride, tipped him, and was halfway out of the car when he turned to look at me and said, “Have a good night.” There was something weird about the way he said it, like he knew something I didn’t.

  Not responding, I got out, slammed the door, and walked into the club.

  Once inside, my first thought was yes! This place was exactly what I was looking for. The Overground was dark but for the flashing lights, illuminating all the people dancing. It took me a second to realize the lights flashed images of witches and skeletons and jack-o’-lanterns on the walls.

  “I guess I’m not going to escape Halloween after all,” I muttered to myself.

  I walked forward and paid my cover charge. A woman dressed as Catwoman held a tray of cheap plastic masks thrust it out to me as I walked by.

  “Take one!” she said enthusiastically.

  I gave her a wane smile, but did what she requested, slipping it on as I looked around for the bar. It took some effort to get through the crowd. I had to dodge flailing elbows and thrusting hips along the way. Alon
g the way, I saw that many of the dancers wore costumes too, dressed as vampires and devils and superheroes.

  After several minutes, I finally made it to the bar and waited for the bartender to notice me. He was dressed as a ghoul, his face covered in green and yellow makeup to give a sickly, haunted look. I gave him my drink order and looked up at the Overground sign that hung on the wall.

  When the bartender handed over my drink, I slipped him a ten, wondering why the bar was called the Overground.

  “Is there a reason this place is called the Overground?” I asked, shouting above the music. “Is there something under it? A downstairs?”

  The bartender smirked at me. “Yeah, there’s another club downstairs called the Underground Dungeon. It’s invitation only.”

  “Dungeon?” I asked, my interest piqued. “What does that mean?”

  The bartender smiled again. “Sweetheart, I’m not at liberty to tell you that.”

  “But I am,” a deep voice said from behind.

  Whipping around, I saw a man in a sharp gray business suit that was tailored to perfection around his broad shoulders and big arms. He wore a navy button-down shirt beneath his jacket tight enough I could see definition in his stomach. His pants were also tight around his body in a way that gave a hint at strong, muscular thighs. I couldn’t stop myself from lingering at the slight bulge pushing against his pants.

  He must have noticed because he was smirking when my eyes finally traveled up his body to meet his. This guy was tall, very tall, with dark hair cut and styled into a fade. A black mask covered the upper part of his face and seemed to be made of felt. Each time the strobe lights flashed our way, the small red stones that studded the eyes of the mask gleamed. I couldn’t quite tell what color his eyes were in the dark lighting, but were light.

  He was still smirking at me when he leaned forward and asked in a drawl, “Are you sure you really want to know?”

  A brief flash of fear shot through me at his question, of danger, but I pushed it away. I was curious, more than I probably should be, and was looking for a little excitement after the last half-week.