“And since when is honor more important than a $380 million profit?” I asked.
“Good point, my boy, very good point,” Vivienne laughed, “I guess you have proven yourself in some kind of way and there will always be more opportunities to show me what you can do. Now be sure to come home and see you poor old grandmother before the grave swallows me up!”
“I will do that,” I said, “just make sure the house is spotless, I’m bringing a lady friend along with me.”
“Now you’re talking like a real Du Bois,” Vivienne said and I could tell she was as excited to meet Jenny as I was to take her home with me.
I ended the call and drove my Ferrari around the corner. There she stood waiting for me. Jenny Blake; the most incredible and unforgettable card counter the casinos in Las Vegas ever had the misfortune of hosting at their Blackjack tables.
I stopped right in front of the Golden Nugget and gave the casino a final glance before I watched with great satisfaction and excitement as Jenny Blake jumped into the passenger seat right next to me.
It had been the greatest risk I’d ever taken in my entire life, but Jenny and I had both turned out as winners in this incredible game of chance.
I’m almost certain that the good fortune will not always be in our favor but if I am sure only of one thing then that our love will win against any odds.
THE END
Craving Them Both
Chapter 1
Leona tossed her cascade of glossy, red curls over one shoulder and leaned in close to Miranda, who puckered her lips and held up a pair of richly embroidered platform shoes for the selfie.
“And that’s going straight to Instagram. Tilly is going to be so jealous we found these Jimmy Choo before her,” Leona grinned as she typed frantically on her iPhone.
“Oh my God, she’ll totally flip,” Miranda agreed, stroking the shoes reverently.
“But seriously. If platforms have to be back in style the least the designers can do is make them this pretty, am I right?” Leona opined, tossing the phone back into her leather Gucci bag.
“You’re always right, Leona,” Miranda looped an arm through Leona’s as the two girls strutted through the enormous shoe store. “Jesus Christ,” Miranda whispered suddenly, clutching Leona’s arm as they rode the escalator back down to the second floor, “would you look at him? I swear I come every time I see him.”
“Don’t be gross, Miranda,” Leona replied without tearing her eyes away from the handsome man looking at loafers. “Let’s go say hello.”
The two women hopped off the escalator and honed in on the oblivious young man. Their target was wearing a wine red button-down shirt that highlighted his olive complexion and brought out the highlights in his dark hair, which he kept sweeping out of his eyes with one hand as he examined the shoes. Unaware that he was being watched, he frowned down at the leather shoes in his hands, wetting his full lips with the tip of his tongue. Miranda moaned softly and Leona elbowed her in the ribs.
“Hi, Marco!” said the redhead, with an impish smile that made most men weak in the knees.
The gorgeous brunette looked up, startled. “Oh, hey, Leona. Miranda,” he nodded at her friend then turned back to Leona, his eyes quickly sweeping up her body before returning to her face. “Have you guys had any luck?”
Miranda held up the box with her prized Jimmy Choo and Leona laughed. “It’s not a matter of luck, Marco,” she corrected him. “It’s a matter of skill.”
Marco chuckled, “A skill that I just don’t have, apparently. I should have just let my sister buy me a new pair like I usually do.”
“Well, why don’t you let us help you?” Leona smiled. “We’re not doing anything.”
Marco shook his head. “That’s really kind, Leona, but I actually have to get going. I have a fundraising committee meeting to get to. Maybe next time,” he smiled. Tossing the loafer back on the rack, he gave the girls a heart-stopping smile before jumping on the escalator to the first floor.
Leona pouted, plopping herself down onto one of the overstuffed sofas. “Ugh, I’m starting to wonder if he’s gay,” she said, crossing her arms.
“What? No way,” said Miranda, joining her on the sofa. “He was totally checking you out.”
“That’s what I thought. But why doesn’t he ever agree to go out with me? You know, I asked him to drinks last week and he said he was flying out that night to Africa. Who passes up a chance to sleep with me for Africa?”
“So weird,” Miranda agreed. “Don’t worry, Leo. You’ll get him. No one’s ever turned you down. I mean, look at you. Why would they?”
“Right?” Leona huffed, slumping. “I’m fucking gorgeous.” And she was. No man to date had been able to refuse her long, tanned legs, full breasts, and seductive, sea-green eyes. Leona stood up. “Whatever! Let’s go for to that new juice bar and find some pretty man to buy us lunch. I’ll get Marco eventually. It’s only a matter of time.”
“You go, girl,” said Miranda, rising to join her friend.
***
Marco hailed a taxi and was soon watching the streets up the Upper East Side glide by as the yellow cab wove between the large, glistening, imported cars of the Manhattan’s richest inhabitants. As he looked out the window, his thoughts wandered back to Leona Gary and the way she bit her lip when she looked at him, her green eyes peeping up through thick, dark lashes. She was one of the most beautiful girls he’d ever met. She was also one of the most spoiled.
He didn’t know her very well, but Leona and his sister Alessandra shared most of their friend circle and Ali was constantly complaining about Leona’s ridiculous behavior. Nobody seemed to be able to say no to her – not even her parents. Marco might have been rich, but he didn’t take his family’s wealth for granted – he was all too aware how hard his father and grandfather had worked to make it - and he didn’t have a lot of patience for those of his peers who spent their lives buying endless impractical clothes, swearing eternal allegiance to new fad diets, and taking constant selfies. While this attitude saved him from a lot of inane conversations, it also meant that he didn’t have a lot of close friends here in New York.
As it was, he didn’t really mind this. Ever since he’d graduated from Yale two years ago, he’d spent most of his time abroad, working for NGOs. These days he only came back if he needed to organize a fundraiser. His New York contacts were good for that at least. And, luckily for Marco, charities were a bit of a competitive sport in these circles as everyone wanted to out-donate the others. Typically, they wanted to feel good about themselves without having to get their hands dirty – Marco’s galas let them do that and show off their newest clothes at the same time.
As Marco’s thoughts wandered, he was struck by inspiration. Maybe it was about time for someone to see what all these galas actually paid for. Maybe it was time for someone other than him to get their hands dirty. Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number he’d never thought he’d actually need.
“Hi, Leona?” he said. “It’s Marco. I was just wondering if you wanted to help me with a bit of a special project. It’s for a charity – the same one I’m organizing the gala for this Friday. You would? That’d be great. Only one catch – it’s in Gambia. Really? You don’t mind? That’s awesome. We can sort out the details on Friday. You’re coming to the gala, right? Your whole family? Excellent. Okay. See you then. You too. Thanks again. Bye.”
With a satisfied smiled, Marco went back to watching the scenery.
***
“Oh my Go-od,” Leona squealed, putting down her phone. “That was Marco.”
Miranda’s eyes widened as she slurped her spirulina and acai berry smoothie. “Omigod, omigod, what did he say?” she asked breathlessly.
“He wants me to come to Africa with him. To…uhh…Zambia? No, Gambia. Wherever that is. It’s for some, like, charity thing. I guess he’s having a big gala over there for, like, kings and politicians and stuff and he needs a good-looking date.”
Mira
nda moaned. “Christ, he’s so hot. And in Africa, he’ll be all sweaty and —”
“Okay, Miranda. Don’t get carried away. We’re in public,” Leona interrupted her enthusiastic friend.
“Right, sorry. I just can’t stop thinking about his perfect abs all slick and —”
“Miranda!”
“Right. Sorry,” Miranda took a sip of juice before continuing. “But seriously. Congratulations, girl. You finally got him.”
Leona grinned smugly. “I always get what I want,” she replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
The two girls giggled and decided to split a gluten-free vegan brownie to celebrate.
Chapter 2
Two weeks later, Leona was on her parents’ private jet as it descended towards the emerald green smudge that the in-flight map told her was Gambia. Leona swirled a negroni in one hand as she watched the lush canopy grow closer. She frowned, craning her neck to see where the city was. Maybe from the other side of the plane?
But the windows on the other side only showed more rapidly-approaching jungle – she could now make out individual trees. Leona frowned and finished her drink. Where the hell was the pilot taking her? Weren’t they going to the capital? God, she wondered, was the capital so small that she couldn’t even see it yet? With a shudder, she briefly regretted not paying more attention to her travel itinerary.
With a gentle thud, the plane hit the earth, cruising down what Leona was horrified to see was a dirt runway.
“We’re here, Miss Gary.” The pilot’s voice came through the intercom as the plane eased to a halt outside a low, concrete building that was badly in need of a paint job. The sun beat down on the packed earth and Leona could see a gaggle of children standing in the thin strip of shade provided by the building, shouting and pointing at her plane. She went to take another sip of her negroni and made a face when she found only ice in the glass.
The door to the passenger lounge opened and a tall, wiry stranger came on board.
“Leona Gary?” he asked, stooping slightly to keep his head from hitting the ceiling.
“Yes,” Leona replied without getting up. “Who are you?”
“You can call me George,” the man smiled, his teeth bright white against his chocolate skin. He was wearing a faded Hawaiian print shirt that looked a size too large for him, baggy beige cargo shorts, and bright blue flip flops. But, despite his unimpressive wardrobe, Leona had to admit that he was a beautiful man. His large, dark eyes were framed by thick, curling lashes and his face was slender and well-defined, with a straight nose and sensuous lips. What little she could see of his arms and legs were well-muscled, though thin, and his hands were large with long, pianist’s fingers. Leona caught herself wondering what those fingers would feel like on her skin. “Marco’s been called to the capital to sort out some bureaucratic screw-up, so he asked me to come get you. I’m the project manager.”
“Marco’s not here?” Leona repeated disbelievingly.
“Sorry,” George shook his head. “But don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.” Gesturing for Leona to follow, George headed back outside.
Unsure what to do, Leona slid on her designer sunglasses and followed him. Outside, the situation was worse than she could have imagined. She was in the literal middle of nowhere. Before her was the dirty concrete building, the dirty gaggle of children, and a dirty Landrover. Past the dirty building, which she could only assume was supposed to be the airport, was a dirt road lined with small, square, concrete houses interspersed with the honest-to-God stick and mud huts. Behind her, jungle came streaming down a low mountain like a green tidal wave threatening to engulf the dusty little village. Leona turned in a slow circle, taking it all in, her horror mounting with every second.
“What do you think?” George asked with a smile, completely misreading her stupefied silence.
The spell was broken and Leona turned on him. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” she yelled. “Where the hell are we, the 17oos? This is totally unacceptable. Call Marco right now and tell him to get me out of here. I mean, God, does this place even have cell reception?” She rummaged in her enormous purse, searching for her phone.
“No,” said George softly, confirming her worst fears, “it doesn’t. And Marco is busy right now, like I said. I’m afraid you’ll simply have to deal with it.”
“Deal with it? This place is literally made of dirt. I can’t stay here. Where’s the pilot? He’ll take me back to New York.”
George shook his head. “He said his instructions are to leave you here. Apparently, your parents think this will be a ‘character building experience’ for you.”
“They what?” Leona screeched, stamping her foot. “How dare they, those hypocrites! Oh, my god, this is my actual worst nightmare. This is the ugliest place I have ever seen.”
George raised his eyebrows. “Marco forgot to mention you were so charming,” he said.
“Are you giving me attitude? Because I will have you fired, John.”
“George,” he corrected her. “And you can’t have me fired, Leona. I’m afraid that’s one thing your father can’t do for you.”
“Ugh!” Leona crossed her arms, glaring at George, all appreciation for his graceful beauty gone. “I thought you were supposed to take care of me?”
“And I am. I’ve brought the Landrover to take you up the mountain to the village where I’ll make sure you’re safely installed in your hut, ate a decent supper, and correctly covered your bed with the mosquito net.”
“Oh my God – we’re going up the mountain?” Leona pointed an accusing finger at the forest behind her. “How much farther from civilization can we get?”
“Well, get in the car and you’ll see. I’ve already loaded your bags. I hope you brought some practical walking shoes along with the kitchen sink,” George told her, shooting a disparaging look at the two enormous bags in the back seat.
“Ugh!” Leona huffed again but, not seeing another option, climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her.
***
Two hours of whiplash-inducing dirt road later, they arrived. The mountain village was even smaller than the dusty town at the airstrip and it had far fewer concrete houses. Here most things were made of packed earth combined with mud and sticks – including Leona’s one-room hut. As George dropped her bags in the corner, Leona stared around her in horror. The hut had a dirt floor, a bed with a large mosquito net, a kerosene lantern, and an empty basin. There were no windows, no electric lights, and no bathroom.
“Where am I supposed to shower?” Leona asked. “Or pee for that matter?”
George untied the mosquito net and deftly tucked it under the corners of the mattress. “There’s an outhouse around the back. But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to shower. There’s no electricity or running water here. But don’t worry. No one will care if you’re a bit smelly tomorrow. Once we get working everyone will be smelly.”
“Wait – working? Working on what, exactly?” Leona asked, terror rising.
“Didn’t Marco tell you?” George asked. “We’re building the village a school.”
“Building a school? You expect me to build a school?”
“Well, not by yourself, obviously. But we’ll put you to work mixing concrete or laying cinder blocks. I’m sure that, with time, even you can learn to be useful.”
“Oh, gee, thanks. Do you know how much I’m worth? I don’t need to be useful.”
“Okay,” said George affably. “Then sit in your hut and sulk for the rest of your time here. It’s really all the same to me. Are you hungry?”
“No,” Leona snapped, glowering at him. She was starving but was terrified of what they might try to feed her.
“Okay,” George said again. “There’s a bottle of fresh water in the corner if you get thirsty,” he pointed to a large, recycled pop bottle that Leona hadn’t noticed. “I’ll be by tomorrow to bring you breakfast and take you to the site. Don’t forget to tuck in the l
ast corner of the mosquito net when you get into bed. Malaria is pretty common around here. Sleep well.”
When George left, Leona crawled into the bed, lay down, and began to cry. For the first time in her life, she felt hopeless and lonely.
***
The next morning Leona woke up to the sound of someone knocking on her door. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. The room was dark, the only light a faint glow coming from under the badly-fitted door.
“What the…” she murmured, slowly sitting up. Then it all came rushing back and she groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“Leona?” The knocking continued, now joined by George’s voice. “I have your breakfast. Time to get going.”
Big Bad Billionaires [Volume 2] Page 10