Billionaire In Vegas

by Summer Cooper

  “I can believe that.”

  I ignored Jude’s comment, refusing to acknowledge the innuendo paired with his not so innocent look.

  I cleared my throat and pointedly turned my attention to the senior Foster. “If you don’t mind me asking, what type of business are you in, sir?”

  “Please call me, Oliver,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “And my business entails a lot of things.”

  “Our family earned its money the old-fashioned way. Inherited.”

  Mr. Oliver chuckled at Jude’s interjection. “He’s right. My great-grandfather made a few excellent investments and since then not a member of this family has actually had to work for a living since.”

  “Wow.”

  “Don’t be too impressed. Jude here knows how to spend money faster than the Treasury can print it.”

  “I do my best.”

  “Don’t we know it.”

  The tension between the two of them made me uncomfortable, but I wasn’t going to say anything. I needed this job and Jude wouldn’t always be around, at least, I hoped he wouldn’t.

  “But enough about us, let’s talk about you, Lacey. I love your name by the way. It’s very lady-like. It truly fits you. Women nowadays can be so gauche, but you, you’re so classy.”

  Jude shot me a grin that clearly told me he was thinking of our encounter in the restaurant the other day or earlier when I was picking my underwear out of my butt. I narrowed my eyes at him and thanked his father for the compliment, although I felt it was borderline sexist.

  “I have my moments,” I said with a shrug.

  “So where are you from, Lacey? And why aren’t you gainfully employed?” Jude asked as he cut into his steak and took a huge bite. I secretly hoped he would choke on it. But of course, he didn’t.

  I’m sure I was glowering as I went to answer his rude question, but Oliver cut in, “Excuse my son. He was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Jude?”

  “Nope. I think I can spare a minute or two.”

  They silently stared at each other, waiting for the other to back down when Oliver sighed and said, “Must you drive me insane all the time?”

  “It’s what I live for, father dear.” Jude’s tone dripped with veiled hostility and sarcasm. I rethought my earlier feelings. They didn’t just dislike each other. They hated each other.

  I felt uncomfortable so I began to speak, hoping that would detract from the tension. “What would you like to know about me, Oliver? I’m a pretty open book. I’m assuming Kadija sent you my resume.”

  “Oh yes, but a resume can only tell you so much about a person.”

  I nodded, “Well, to answer your earlier question, Jude, I’m from a small town outside of Georgia.”

  “Really? You don’t have a discernible Southern accent.”

  I shrugged, not daring to mention that my accent had been the bane of my college existence when I went to school up north, surrounded by people who hadn’t ever heard a Southerner talk in “real life”. I had grown tired of being an oddity and had worked hard to eliminate the Southern twang.

  I didn’t say this to the Fosters though. I moved on to the next question. “And I think I’m pretty gainfully employed, after all, I’m working for your father.”

  Oliver smiled. “And I’m so happy to have you.”

  “Cheers to that,” Jude said unexpectedly. I raised my wine glass with the other two and ignored Jude as he winked at me.

  Abruptly he downed the rest of his wine in one gulp, wiped his mouth across his sleeve and stood up. “Well, Father, Miss Cabot, it’s been fun but I have to go.”

  “Work’s calling?” I said deliberately being intrusive. Tit-for-tat as far as I was concerned.

  “Nope. Women to chase,” Oliver quipped. “You know Jude here was a professional soccer player. Although I think he spent most of his time chasing women instead of focusing on the game.”

  Jude said, “A bit of both. I like mixing business with pleasure.”

  “Yeah. Don’t we know it.”

  As if he didn’t even hear his father, Jude walked away without another word. I watched him leave. I couldn’t help myself as I checked out his butt. It definitely belonged to an athlete. And as if he felt my eyes on him, he turned around and shot me a meaningful grin before disappearing through the dining room doors.

  Oliver shook his head and gestured to the butler for more wine. After he was done filling up the glass, he went to leave, but Oliver stopped him saying, “Just leave the bottle. I’ll need it.”

  The butler walked away with a little smile.

  “I have to apologize for my son. He’s a little bit of an asshole. Well, actually more than a little bit.”

  I choked into my wine and Oliver looked at me with amusement.

  After I was done coughing, I struggled to come up with something nice to say. I tried to be considerate. “I’m sure he has his moments.”

  “Not many of them,” Oliver said without any animosity. There was mostly amusement in his voice. His expression became serious. “We don’t see eye to eye on most things, but he’s still my son. I did a crappy job raising him, so apparently his being an asshole is mostly my fault.”

  “I’m sure you did the best you could,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “That’s not what my therapist says,” Oliver said with a laugh.

  I liked Oliver. I liked his frank way of speaking and his self-deprecating humor.

  “Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t become a personal assistant to listen to a rich old person’s problem.”

  “Actually, I’m sure that’s exactly what you’re paying me for.”

  He laughed and said, “You’re right.”

  I reached for my purse and pulled out my tablet. I turned it on and said, “So should we start off with a list of tasks you would like me to complete and perhaps we can share calendars and sync your contact lists?”

  “All that sounds great. I love technology. My previous personal assistant wrote everything down on a notepad.”

  I laughed as if I didn’t do that too. I only reached for my tablet before I left the house because I couldn’t find my notepad.

  Oliver and I covered the basics of the job for about an hour. I asked a lot of questions that he really couldn’t answer, but I got to know more about him. He was a really dear old man. I didn’t know what he’d been like as a father, but as an employer, it was clear that he was going to be one of my favorite clients. Thanks, Kadija.

  Afterward, he gave me a tour of other areas around his home, the stables, guest house, swimming pool and gardens, and a series of passwords he wanted me to commit to memory; he insisted I didn’t write them down.

  Later that afternoon, I packed my purse ready to leave.

  “So what time tomorrow would you like me to stop by?”

  “Don’t you have a birthday coming up this weekend?”

  I looked at him, surprised. “How did you know?”

  He replied, “Your personnel file.”

  “Oh yeah. I have some plans but nothing really concrete.” I was lying. I didn’t have anything planned. Even though Emmaline and Misha had offered to take me out for the weekend, we hadn’t actually come up with exciting stuff to do. We’d probably just sit around my house and drink some beer.

  “That’s too bad. A young girl like yourself should celebrate. Do something special. After all, you only turn twenty-one once.” He winked at me then and it reminded me so much of Jude’s wink earlier. Maybe he had gotten his rakishness from his father after all, I thought, amused.

  “I’m turning thirty, as we both know, and honestly, it’s no big deal.”

  “Maybe not to you...” Oliver said turning away from me and walking towards the study. I followed behind him, wondering where he was going so abruptly.

  He found his phone and tapped a few buttons and the next thing I knew, my phone beeped. I reached for it and my eyes grew wide at the message there. It was an alert from an app that we had agree
d upon for payment purposes and according to the notification, Oliver had wired me $5000.

  I opened my mouth and sputtered, “Is this some sort of payment advance?”

  “No. It’s a bonus.”

  “But I haven’t even done any work yet.”

  He shrugged it off. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Consider it an investment. A happy, rested assistant is a good assistant. So take the weekend off, on me. Do something fun. Go to Vegas! Or Monte Carlo!”

  I laughed. “Hold your horses. You gave me five thousand, not ten thousand.”

  Oliver laughed, “I have a hotel in Vegas, if you want to go there you’ll have free accommodations and of course, you have access to my private plane.”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t—”

  “I insist.”

  I was about to say no and then thought to myself – why not? I didn’t have any solid plans. And that had been my own fault since I’d insisted on not having a party even though both Emmaline and Misha were more than willing to plan one.

  I frowned as I thought about the choices I tended to make. For some reason, I always deprived myself of any fun. When had I become such a stick in the mud? Oh yeah, I’d always been one. But no more. I was turning over a new leaf, with my employer’s blessing and money, obviously. I would be stupid to say no and so I said yes.

  I thanked Oliver profusely and waited while he called me a taxi. As I walked to meet the taxi, I pulled out my cellphone and texted Emmaline and Misha. “We’re going to Vegas, ladies!!!!”

  As expected, they didn’t text back. They called. Emmaline called first.

  “Lacey,” she said without preamble. “Please tell me you’re not joking because Dora is driving me crazy and I need a break from being a mom like right now.” Emmaline had gotten pregnant during our senior year in college and Theodora had arrived shortly after Emmaline turned twenty. They had an unusual relationship, more like sisters than mother and daughter. And that had seemed to be working until recently; Emmaline mentioned on more than one occasion that Theodora was turning into a crazy tween and they barely agreed on anything anymore.

  I filled her in and half-way into the call, Misha called as well. I connected the calls. “Don’t play with my emotions, Lacey. Please tell me you’re serious. I want to be in Vegas like right now. All male revue, baby! Wooohoooo!”

  I heard Misha’s coworkers cheering in the background. I knew she had me on speakerphone and her entire office was listening. We’d both decided not to go into teaching after being teacher assistants in college and Misha had decided instead to go into interior design. She’d recently started her own interior design firm and it was an open office. No cubicles. Just everyone hanging around designing stuff. Most of her staff were women our age, except for her secretary, who was a sixty-year-old guy who didn’t say much. He mostly ignored them and ate BBQ all day. At least, that’s what Misha told me. I’d never met the guy.

  “No joke. We’re going to Vegas ladies.”

  “Whoop! Whoop!”

  “On a private plane...”

  “What?” gasped Emmaline.

  “And that’s not even the best part, all our accommodations are paid for.”

  “Excuse me!” Misha yelled. “Shut up! You have got to be kidding me.” I could hear the ladies in the background asking for more info.

  I quickly filled everyone in, barely noticing the challenging trek back to the entrance since I was so excited over the recent turn of events, and when I was done with my story, I was at the gate and my taxi was waiting for me.

  “This is crazy,” Emmaline said in awe as she digested all the details.

  “No, this is awesome,” I said with a huge smile on my face as I slid into the taxi, waved good-bye to Peter and thanked God that I hadn’t said no to Kadija

  Chapter Three

  “Oh my God! I’m in heaven!” Emmaline said, practically falling from the taxi in awe of the building in front of us. Actually, it wasn’t simply a building. It was more of a monument to excess and wealth. Apparently, my employer was loaded. I knew he was rich because of the plane, but pastors from mega-churches had their own private jets nowadays, so a private plane wasn’t as impressive as it used to be.

  I didn’t realize how rich Oliver actually was until I stood outside his hotel on the strip looking up at it. I stretched my head as far back as possible, but still couldn’t see the top of the building. It’s as if it extended into another dimension in the sky. It was the tower of Babel, I thought jokingly, as I unloaded our suitcases.

  Emmaline was too busy yelling, “Oh my God!” and running around the fountains in awe to help out. I was impressed too. Fountains circled the entrance area, each one grander than the next. I felt as if we were on the set of a movie, a Cinderella remake in the modern world, but we were all going to get our Happily Ever After. But instead of a fairy tale castle, we were in front of a stunning hotel that seemed made for dignitaries and celebrities. I immediately felt out of my element, but before I could focus on my own insecurities, I was distracted by Emmaline who was chatting up the doorman and the valet, it seemed. Apparently, she had no trouble feeling as if she belonged here. She was shaking their hands and introducing herself with a big smile on her face. I bet she was the only guest that had ever expressed an interest in learning the employees’ names. They actually seemed a little nervous by all her attention and I could see one of them blushing. And then Emmaline let out one of her signature laughs that drew even more eyes in her direction. I looked at Misha and we smirked.

  “You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl,” she said referring to Emmaline’s background which had been similar to my own. Emmaline and I’d been raised in a rural area in Southern Georgia. We’d decided to go off to college in New York together. It had been Emmaline’s idea. She’d always been the braver, more outgoing of the two of us.

  Misha though was born and raised in Brooklyn and had taken us country bumpkins under her wing. She’d especially been there for Emmaline when she’d become pregnant during our senior year and had thought of quitting school. Misha had arranged for Emmaline to stay with her grandmother in Brooklyn when Emmaline’s family had pretty much disowned her for having a baby out of wedlock. It had been tough for Emmaline, but between Misha’s help and Emmaline’s boyfriend, Colin, things had worked out for the best.

  Emmaline had finished college only a semester behind the rest of us and for a while, we thought she would marry Colin. But they’d broken up shortly after senior year and Emmaline refused to talk about it. It was odd. They’d been a great couple and from what Emmaline told me, he was a responsible and loving father who always provided for their daughter and had moved to Florida to be closer to them. Emmaline prided herself on being a super mom and I figured she and Colin probably bumped heads a lot when it came to Theodora. I briefly wondered if Colin was taking care of Theodora while Emmaline took a much-deserved break from mom duty.

  Speaking of which, she was definitely not being a mom now as she flirted shamelessly with a group of guys as they exited the hotel. They seemed to be foreign. They were all tall and blonde and regarding Emmaline with amusement and interest as they walked away with regret on their face.

  “See you guys around,” Emmaline purred.

  Misha laughed as we approached carrying all the baggage, which the doorman quickly took from us, gesturing to another employee to help.

  I mumbled a thank you as I said to Emmaline, “Were you trying to flirt with an entire foreign delegation or sports team, whoever they were?”

  Misha cut in, “We’re only here for the weekend; we have to take advantage of every opportunity.”

  I shook my head. “You two are something else. And you’re married,” I said pointedly to Misha.

  “But she isn’t. She’s a single mom who hasn’t gotten out of the house in at least a decade. She should be flirting with all the men. ALL.”

  Misha turned around and headed through the larg
e glass doors held open by the doorman.

  Emmaline and I had to come to a sudden halt as we barreled into her solid, unmoving form.

  “What—?” I began and then promptly shut my mouth. It was clear what had stopped Misha in her tracks. The gorgeous view in front of us deserved our awe. The inner part of the hotel was just as stunning as the entrance. The hotel was hollow nearly as far as the eye could see, with the rooms on the outer part of the building. A huge sunlight sat in the middle and I stared at it in awe, taking in the ultra-modern and chic decor that reminded me of show homes I saw on television.

  I was definitely out of my element, but I was determined not to show it. I squared my shoulders and headed in the direction of the reception desk. A petite brunette greeted us with a warm smile.

  “Ms. Cabot, I presume?”

  I blinked twice, trying to figure out how she knew my name.

  At the confused look on my face, she gave a laugh. “Mr. Oliver mentioned that you were coming.”

  She busily began to type something into the computer and then looked up again at us with a smile when she was done.

  “How was your trip? I heard Oliver’s plane is gorgeous.”

  She called him Oliver. Apparently, she knew my new boss very well.

  “Yeah, it was pretty amazing,” I said for lack of a better word.

  “I heard it had a hot tub,” the receptionist said, and I laughed.

  “It was amazing, but not THAT amazing.”

  The receptionist chuckled, reached under the desk and slid over a key card.

  “Oh,” she said, shaking her head at her error. “You’ll need three of these.”

  She promptly entered something else in the computer, reached under the counter and laid two additional keys next to mine.

  “I hope you ladies enjoy your stay. And if you need anything, please feel free to contact me. I’m the concierge here. My name is Renee.”

  “Thanks, Renee.”

  She smiled brightly at all of us again and said, “No problem.”

  We looked around for the guy who had our bags and Renee said, “They’re already in your room.”