by Rosanna Leo
Thank God for her frugal nature. Sure, she coveted the Louboutins and Jimmy Choos like any red-blooded woman. She just didn’t allow herself to indulge. After witnessing her father’s descent over the years, she preferred to keep a tight lid on her funds.
She moved a few dollars around, transferring funds into her bill-paying account, printed the applicable receipts, and stared at them.
Old guilt tightened its stranglehold on her. She took out her mom’s old bank card, inserted it and checked the account her parents had shared. She printed the list of recent activity, all of which were debit transactions from the local casinos. Fifty dollars at Caesar’s. Fifty at the Bellagio. Fifty at the Flamingo. Oh, and to make things even better, one hundred dollars at Vegas’s newest attraction, Vice.
The list went on and on. The last deposit had been hers, two weeks back. She’d transferred over two thousand dollars, hoping he would use it for food or rent, and not poker chips.
Well, she’d always been a dreamer.
“Just take out the card and walk away,” she urged herself. “Don’t give him any more. He has to hit rock bottom.”
A memory from her teen years flashed before her eyes. Her dad, coming home from work, pale and shocked. She’d run to him to ask what was wrong.
“Oh, Katie-bug,” he’d cried. “Someone stole my wallet on the bus!”
“Oh, Dad, no. Are you sure?”
“Yeah. My credit cards, everything. I had it in my pocket. Someone must have reached in when I wasn’t looking.” He’d blanched. “Katie, my pay was in there. Five hundred cash, gone.”
Her dad, a mechanic, worked for an old-timer who still paid his employees with cash—a major temptation for someone who gambled.
“I can’t tell your mother. She’ll be so disappointed in me. I was supposed to pay the bills this month.” He’d looked at her, as if seized by a wonderful idea. “Katie, you have a bit of money saved up from your job, right?”
She did. She ran the local church choir and was given a small amount for her troubles. Not much, but it felt like untold riches to a kid.
“Loan me the money, sweetheart. I’ll pay it back, I swear. Then we don’t have to bother your mom with this business.”
He’d walked her right to the nearest bank and watched as his child withdrew her own money for him. Before handing it over, she’d asked, “Dad, are you going to gamble with this?”
He’d had the gall to look affronted. “I can’t believe my own daughter would ask me that. Didn’t I raise you better?”
She’d handed it over and waited for the thanks that never came. And despite his many assurances, she’d never seen the money again.
She’d been enabling him, in one way or another, ever since. After her mom died, she worried about her dad’s ability to take care of himself. For the past few years, she regularly put money in his account, convinced he was starving somewhere. Every time she checked the balance, the money was gone, used for bets.
And every week she spouted garbage to her New Horizons friends about cutting gamblers off, letting them hit rock bottom for their own good, and she hadn’t let her father do the same yet.
She felt sure the word coward or hypocrite was tattooed over her face. How could she allow this pattern to continue? He’d disappointed her so many times, yet a small part of her waited for him to prove her wrong, to show her he was worthy of her love and trust.
Would it ever come?
She played with her finances a bit more, shaving off a bit more from her piddly savings. A lump formed in her throat as she deposited one hundred dollars into her father’s account. It wasn’t much. Maybe this time he’d put it to good use. Maybe. Her eyes stung as she yanked the bank card out of the machine.
Clutching her purse, and blinking back tears, she fled the bank.
Liam passed Kate on the way to his car the next morning. Headed to a meeting at City Hall, he was already in a bad mood, expecting push back from the city building department about his permit and worrying about his meeting with Bridget after that. Having to see Kate Callender’s new sign, Don’t Let Liam Doyle Control Your Pocketbook! just put the icing on an unpalatable cake.
She made a big show of curtseying like a simpering courtier as he passed her on the walkway.
“How are you, Milord? Does the emperor need new clothes?”
“Funny. No, unlike you, I have places to go and people to see.”
“Oh, I’m seeing lots of people right here. And guess what? They seem to like talking to me. I think I’m making some progress.”
“How awesome you have a hobby.” He ambled closer. “Tell me, Ms. Callender. Do all your goals involve sabotaging those of others?”
“Only this one,” she said smiling, her hazel eyes practically twinkling with mirth. “And something tells me, at the end of the day, you’ll still be sitting pretty.”
He couldn’t resist grinning, just a little. “You think I’m cute, don’t you?”
The twinkle in her eyes turned hard as she pointed to where one of his assistants waited with the Escalade. “I think you’d be cuter all the way over there in your penis-mobile. Tell me, is everything in your life so damned big?”
She reddened as soon as she realized how her question could be misinterpreted. Liam tried not to laugh. He leaned in and whispered, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She looked away. “Not in the least.”
He decided to let her off the hook. “As for the Escalade, it’s just the work car. Would you believe my other car is a ten-year-old pick up?”
“Believe me when I say I couldn’t care less.”
This time he did laugh. She had spunk, he’d give her that. If she didn’t irritate him so much, he might even like her. He waved as he left for his car. “Have a rewarding day, Ms. Callender.”
“Oh, I will. Maybe not as monetarily rewarding as yours, but I’ll be fine.”
Liam couldn’t resist one last jab. “Maybe?”
The look on her face made getting the last word in worth it. Stifling a grin, he got into the car and told the driver where to head. And then, because his dick demanded it, he stole another glance at her.
She wiggled her fingers at him in a way that set him even more on edge. As they drove off, he pictured taking those pretty hands and pinning them over her head as he found a home between her legs.
His hands grew clammy. He realized with startling clarity that the image would become reality. He knew it.
God help him. He wanted it.
Hours later, Liam watched from the fourth floor as Kate and her associates marched in front of the entrance to Vice. When he’d returned from City Hall, she’d accosted him again, promising him reinforcements were coming. Part of him had thought she meant the imaginary kind. Unicorns and fairies and centaurs. But true to her word, about fifteen people had shown up.
Her distinctly-human pals all had placards, and none appeared to be particularly loony. One man was even dressed in scrubs. Had she bribed a doctor to support her cause, or just rented a costume?
Curious in a way he knew he’d regret later, he left his office and headed outside once more, Wade following behind at a discreet distance. Something she’d said before niggled the back of his brain. She’d asked if he’d ever had a conversation with the people in his casinos, and he realized aside from focus groups and the odd drunk reveler, he hadn’t really spent much time talking to his customers.
He wasn’t a fool. He understood the severity of gambling addiction. He just didn’t see much evidence of it in his casinos. The customers he’d spoken to had always seemed in control of their finances and appeared to know their limits. In fact, he was willing to bet the majority of his clientele were just out for a night of fun.
He was willing to play the odds and prove it to Kate Callender. He approached her little protest and those around her didn’t seem to
know whether to get quiet or start chanting louder.
Kate hadn’t seen him arrive. He tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned, he didn’t give her a chance to talk. It was his turn now.
“Come with me.”
She dropped her placard. “I’m busy, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Busy or not, she left with him, pulled by the elbow through the casino doors.
“Ten minutes, that’s all I ask. Then you can go back to fighting the good fight.” When he realized he was still holding her elbow, he let go and felt heat rush to his face. He turned to the gaming floor. “Let me tell you what I see, Ms. Callender. I see hundreds of happy people out there. Yes, they’re spending money, but look at the smiles. They’re glad to be here. It’s a bit of fantasy, a dream. I provide that and when they’re done, they go back to their humdrum lives with some exciting memories to share with their friends.”
She sniffed. “Well, aren’t you the philanthropist?” She turned to face the floor. “Let me tell you what I see, Mr. Doyle. See that man? The one with the red hair on the Mt. Olympus slot machine?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think there’s anything odd about the look on his face? Anything strange about his posture?”
Liam studied the man. He noticed the man’s glassy gaze, how he stared at the slot machine lights, but didn’t seem to be taking them in. His shoulders might have been balls of nerve, he held his arms at such a tense angle. “What? He’s concentrating.”
“You’re right, he is. He’s concentrating on how to win, and can’t think of anything else. See the way his jaw is set, the way his fingers are locked on the machine? He’s desperate. He’s compulsive, and has probably just lost his last dollar. So are you going to do the right thing and send him home now? A good bartender wouldn’t let a drunk continue drinking.”
Exactly the philosophy he imparted to his staff. Despite ensuring his employees followed it, he still felt defensive. Had they done enough? She didn’t seem to think so. “My security staff knows to watch out for troublemakers.”
“Oh, but he won’t cause trouble. He’s the perfect customer. He’ll smile and pretend everything’s okay, and then maybe tomorrow he’ll stumble home, when he realizes he’s pissed himself because he didn’t want to leave his spot to go to the bathroom, because he’s certain it’s about to pay out. Maybe then he’ll realize he’s in debt as well.”
“You paint a bleak picture.”
“I didn’t paint it, Mr. Doyle. People like you did.” She looked him right in the eye, her mouth tight.
“Well, let me draw your attention to the ladies lining up to cash in their chips at the wicket.” He pointed out a happy group of women in their thirties. “Look at them. This is probably the first trip any of them have had in years. Maybe they’re on a getaway, maybe they’re taking a break from their boring husbands or boring jobs. Whatever it is, they’re practically bubbling over with excitement.” He turned her attention to another couple. “And those two? They just came out of one of the theatres, having spent the last few hours watching a show, not gambling. Not everyone who orders a glass of wine at a bar is a drunk, Ms. Callender.”
His tirade through, all he could do was stare at her. So many emotions lanced through him that moment, ones he didn’t typically permit himself to feel. The tightness in her eyes soon softened into suspicious interest, but she quickly took the opportunity to escape, rushing back out the front entrance.
Cursing, Liam turned and watched the red-haired man at the slot machine. Okay, maybe Kate’s depiction of compulsive gambling didn’t apply to everyone in his clubs, but she wasn’t wrong about the look of hopelessness on the man’s face. Liam motioned for Wade to come over.
“Yes, boss?”
“See the man with the red hair? He’s been here too long. Put him in a cab, charge it to the company account, and make sure he gets home.”
“You got it.”
Liam headed for his private elevator, still cursing to himself. Not because he’d lost a customer. No, because before Kate had fled, he’d seen her eyes water with angry tears.
And now he truly felt like shit.
So far, opening week for Vice was going down in his personal history as the worst one ever.
Near end of day, Liam was once again drawn to his window. Once again, Kate trod the pavement with her comrades-at-arms, waving at the customers headed inside the casino and shouting do-gooder vitriol.
Only now, a part of him cheered her on. He couldn’t help it. He’d always loved an underdog. Hell, he could almost understand what Wade meant when he said he wanted to hug her. Almost.
Fuck. When did he become sympathetic to her cause? When she’d shone a light on the compulsive gambler in his casino. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about her, about her motives and what inspired them. He needed to know.
He’d never been ignorant about the world of gambling. One couldn’t live in Vegas and remain innocent. God knew how many of the homeless folks out on the Strip had begun their downward spirals in a casino. He knew it, better than most.
But in every walk of life, there were people who couldn’t hack it. Didn’t matter where you went, the same story played out everywhere in different ways. Some people climbed, others crashed. He’d risen above his own trials and had survived.
So what was it about gambling that filled Kate with such ire?
Why did he even care? He had too much on his plate for these games. It was time to wave goodbye to the protestor, and in order to do so, he needed to convince her and her friends to leave. She could deal with the bee in her bonnet in front of someone else’s casino. Preferably Trump’s. Hell, he’d buy them all bad toupees to wear if they wanted.
He paged Wade to come to his office. He didn’t waste any time once he came out of the elevator. “I want to talk to her again. Bring her to me.”
Wade raised an eyebrow. “Sure. If I can. She was pretty ornery after you talked to her earlier.”
So their conversation had affected her, too. Interesting. “She’ll come.”
The other man considered. “I don’t think she’d stop for a fast-moving train. Hours on her feet out there, and she won’t even come into the casino to take a piss. She doesn’t even eat. I saw her pass around cookies to her pals, but she hasn’t touched them.”
Liam shook his head. He had to hand it to Kate Callender. The woman was driven, the sort of person he’d hire under different circumstances. “I want to talk to her. Now. Throw her over your shoulder if you have to.”
“Whatever you say, Liam.”
He checked the clock as Wade left. Three-forty. Bridget and Michelle were due in twenty minutes, but he’d make time for Ms. Callender. He needed to make her understand his point of view.
Christ, since when did he need her understanding? He was Liam Doyle, a man known for striking a good deal. In his experience, everyone caved once they thought they had a bargain. He’d swayed some of Vegas’s biggest players. He could sway Kate Callender. He just needed to turn on the charm and make the price appear attractive.
She must be ready to burst after marching all day. Perfect. He’d let her use his private washroom, let her get cozy and then move in for the kill.
When his pulse started to race, Liam began to wonder about his motives for seeing her. He suspected it had less to do with casinos, and more to do with hunger.
His inconvenient hunger for her.
When Wade told Kate that Doyle would see her again, she tried to ignore her sense of shock and turned to her fellow protestors. “Rod, could you take over for me?”
“Sure. How long will you be gone?”
“I have no idea.” Bemused, she followed Doyle’s lackey into the casino.
So the lord of the manor wanted to see her again. She must remember to doff her hat.
“How are you today, Wade?” She tried not to swallow a cloud of
smoke from some woman who was doing her best to resemble Lindsay Lohan. Wait, was that Lindsay Lohan?
“Fine.” She thought she caught him blush. “Thanks for the cookies earlier. Oatmeal’s my favorite.” He frowned. “Don’t tell Liam, okay?”
She grinned and locked up her lips with her fingers as she followed the big man to Doyle’s office.
Liam sat at his massive desk like a king. When he stood to greet her, she saw he wore yet another suit cut perfectly to fit his body. He must have a personal tailor on call. The expensive black cloth seemed to caress every part of him. Underneath, he wore a checked shirt and another navy tie, one that made his blue eyes look even more fiery. The ensemble, if traded for food, could probably feed an entire homeless shelter.
But he looked good. So good, she’d swear a squadron of butterflies just launched an assault on her belly. She chalked it up to needing to pee and shifted on her feet, conscious of Wade leaving in the elevator. “Mr. Doyle.”
He moved toward her, stopping mere inches away, and offered her a slow grin. “I’ve decided we’re ready for first names. Call me Liam.”
“How fortunate that I have you deciding these things.” She took a step back. Not that it helped the crazy fluttering inside her. “I don’t really think first names are wise. You know, with me trying to discredit you and all.”
“Oh, come on, Kate. You’ve been picketing my casino for a few days now. You’re here so much I feel as if I should put you on payroll, even if you are trying to make me lose money. Don’t you think I’ve earned the right to call you by your first name?”
Avoiding his question, she looked around and noticed some coloring books and strawberry pastries on the kitchen counter. Next to them was a Dora the Explorer DVD. “Um, wow. I wouldn’t have guessed your tastes run to the girly.”
He looked at the counter-top items. “They’re not for me. I’m having visitors shortly.”
“So why am I here?”
He gestured to the couches and sat. She remained standing, hoping it would bug him, but he merely shrugged. “It’s time we got frank, Katie.”