The Billionaire's Bluff

by Nella Tyler

  While I had made the boundaries of our relationship perfectly clear, I suppose my relief showed in my demeanor and behaviors. Several times, I caught myself smiling in his direction. Once in a while, I would even glance at him when I thought no one else was looking and just stare at him for a moment. Then, after doing that one time, I quickly passed my gaze over the floor of the casino around me and realized that one of the pit bosses was watching me. My heart began to thud nervously.

  Shit.

  For the remainder of the hour, I was careful not to make any facial gestures whatsoever. I glanced at the players as they played, but other than that, I kept my expression blank and noncommittal. Ben seemed to be in a really good mood tonight, even though I was being a little cool toward him. I was glad that he wasn't holding any hard feelings, but I was also a little disappointed that my comment about not having sex with him anymore didn't bother him. Then again, why should it? He could probably look at any woman in the casino right now between the ages of twenty and eighty and they would be more than happy to jump into bed with him.

  About three quarters of the way through my shift, Ben did order a drink, and he also ordered drinks for everyone else sitting at the table. The players seemed appreciative, whether they were winning or losing. Ben would lose a hand, but then he would win three, lose again, win two, lose again, and then he won four in a row. The win/loss pattern was erratic enough that I couldn't tell whether he was counting cards or not. If he was, he was so good at it I hadn't been able to catch him, nor had any of the other players.

  Every once in awhile, I would glance up and find the pit boss watching me. His gaze made me uncomfortable. Had I tipped my hand? Had I given him any indication I had something going with Ben? God forbid he would think I was helping them cheat or something! That's all I needed. Had they found out that Savannah had taken the gift Ben had brought the other evening and given it to me? Even though I had told her I didn’t want it and she had taken it home herself?

  Toward the end of my shift, it looked to me as if Ben had settled in for the night. There was a drink by his side, a lovely woman on his right, a gentleman in a cowboy hat and a string bow tie to his left, all focusing on their cards. By the time the shift switched over and I left the table, I cast one more glance back at him, only to see him embroiled in close conversation with the woman sitting next to him. I pretended I didn't care.

  By the time I got outside and began to make my way toward my car, I had pretty much put thoughts of Ben and all the entanglements that came with it into an imaginary box that I was just about ready to put duct tape on and shove into the back of a closet in my mind. That's the way I dealt with situations until I had the mental stamina to get those boxes out, open them up, and deal with the contents one at a time.

  I was tired. I wanted to go home and-

  "Maggie, wait!"

  I turned around, startled at the sound of my name, and realized that Ben was just emerging from the casino and hurrying toward me. I glanced behind him, but didn't see anyone following. I frowned. I hoped the pit boss didn't think that he and I had something going. If he did, chances were I would be called into someone's office the next time my shift started.

  Keys in hand and only ten feet from my car, I waited for Ben to catch up with me. He did, sweeping his hand through his hair and then smiling at me.

  "Good evening, Maggie. I didn't want to engage in too much conversation at the table tonight. Your pit boss seemed to be keeping a close eye on you and I didn't want him to think there was anything between us."

  "There isn't," I said. "I mean – I mean I think of you… No, that didn't come out right. Let me-"

  "I'm glad you brought it up, Maggie, because I really want to talk to you about what happened the other night."

  I shrugged. "There is nothing to talk about. I appreciate the fact that you've been staying away, but it's not because of the sex, Ben, it's just because I'm just not ready to… I just want to keep our relationship strictly platonic and professional, okay?"

  He stared at me for several moments, as if he wasn't too happy with my comment. I didn't know how else to explain it. "I don't intend for you to stay away from my Blackjack table, though, because I do enjoy seeing you there. You've become a routine part of my evening. But I just need you to understand that it can't go beyond that. I'd like to think that we’re friends-”

  "But I want to be more than friends," he said, grinning.

  He took a step closer to me and I stepped back. "Ben, I already told you what happened in my past. I don't want to go through that again. Ever.”

  He frowned slightly. "Maggie, I don't mean to hurt your feelings or anything, but asking you to go out with me isn't exactly a marriage proposal. You do know that, don't you?"

  The way he said it made me feel embarrassed, but I understood. "Yes, Ben, I understand that. The problem isn’t you, it's me. To put it quite bluntly, you're handsome, charming, and there's no girl in the world, in her right mind anyway, who wouldn't want to go out with you. But this girl's been hurt, and this girl would rather not bring suspicion, distrust, or any hesitance into any kind of relationship. You understand what I'm saying?"

  "Not really," he admitted. "Maggie, we've all been hurt before. We've all been dumped, or we've dumped someone else. It's part of relationships. It's part of life. Are you going to tell me you're going to live your life like an old maid forever? Do you think that you’ll never get over the hurt that your husband dumped on you?"

  I passed my gaze over his handsome features. He really was trying to understand, but it was probably a concept that was quite foreign to him. "I think that some day, yes, I'll be able to move on from it all, but right now, my life is about going to work, earning a paycheck, and paying my bills. I’m trying to be completely honest with you, Ben. I don't have the mental energy to put into any kind of a relationship."

  "Maggie, I do wish you'd reconsider," he urged. "What's the matter with an occasional meal, a walk in the park, or even a movie? That doesn't sound too horrifying, does it?"

  It didn't. It sounded wonderful. And I wished I could accept. I decided that blunt honesty was called for. "Ben, like I said, it's not you, it's me. You're the first guy that’s ever paid me the kind of attention that I've always wanted. It’s not about money, or fine restaurants or anything like that. You’re a nice guy. It would be so very easy to succumb to your charm, to get and wrapped in it, and comfortable with it-"

  "Then what's the problem, Maggie?"

  "The problem, Ben, is that sense of distrust and suspicion that swallows me up. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to me. It wouldn't take much for me to fall for you, and I'm telling you that straight up. You're a great guy. Under other circumstances, I wouldn't even hesitate to go out with you again, or even to venture to say that I wouldn't mind having sex with you again. But the truth of the matter is-"

  "I get it," he interrupted gently.

  "Do you?"

  He nodded. "You're carrying a lot of baggage, Maggie. I'm interested in you, not just as a distraction, like you might believe, but in you, as a person. It's too bad you feel the way you do because when you start letting go of that baggage, you may find life a little more pleasant, you know?"

  I nodded. I did know. "I'm working on it, Ben."

  He stared at me a moment and then spoke softly. "Don't take too long to get rid of that baggage, Maggie, or you’ll find a number of wonderful opportunities that have passed you by." He glanced back toward the casino. "Well, I’ll be getting back."

  I watched him go back inside the casino and then once again turned toward my car. I was ready to get back home. It'd been a long, long, shift. I wanted nothing more than to go home, jump into the shower real quick, and then flop into my bed and go to sleep.

  I tried to shove Ben to the back of my thoughts, focusing instead on just getting home and falling asleep. I made my way to my apartment complex, parked, got out, and walked to my apartment. Turning the key in the lock I opened the door wi
th a grateful sigh, then froze. I was in the wrong apartment!

  I glanced down at the key in my hand and wondered how that could he possible. I looked into the apartment again. No, the window was where it was supposed to be, my pillows on the sofa were the same, but everything else was different. My apartment had been transformed.

  I took a step further inside and realized the furniture was new. My old box television had been replaced by a large flat screen. Paintings hung on the wall that hadn't been there before, as well as light sconces. What the hell? I glanced toward the kitchen, my eyes widening in shock to discover presents wrapped in pretty paper and bows piled up on the kitchen table. In the kitchen itself, I saw that a new dishwasher, a new refrigerator, and new appliances had been installed. Smaller appliances crowded the countertop.

  I began mumbling under my breath, not sure whether to scream or to cry or to laugh, but as I walked into my bedroom, I stopped short at the door. A four-poster bed, just like Ben’s, only on a smaller scale, had replaced mine. A brand new oak dresser replaced the old secondhand dresser I had gotten at the local thrift store when I first moved in. Almost everything, down to the soft, plush rug under my feet was new or improved.

  Shocked and speechless with dismay, I returned to the living room, where I found myself turning in a slow circle looking at everything.

  "What the hell?" Then I realized. Ben.

  The Billionaire’s Bluff #2

  Chapter 1

  Exhausted and not just a little overwhelmed, I could only stare at the changes in my apartment. In the back of my mind, I wondered how the hell Ben had not only discovered my apartment number, but gotten inside. I would have to see the maintenance manager who lived in one of the downstairs apartments about that. If I didn't know any better, Ben had smoozed and used his smooth-talking ways and perhaps even offered a little bribe to get the guy to open apartment.

  I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Creeped out? Not really, because I didn’t get the sense Ben was a stalker or anything like that, but what did I know? And it was a little strange – no, more than a little. I didn’t even know how to react. I was too tired right now to determine if I was oddly flattered or enraged. I felt…blank.

  I didn't really want to deal with all of this – or even a small part of it – right now, so I got ready for bed, climbed between the sheets, and convinced myself that he wouldn't win me over just by buying me stuff. I couldn't be bought. I didn't want to go out with a guy just because of what he could give me or buy for me. I wasn't that kind of a person, and I wasn't about to turn into one now.

  Still, for a while, sleep eluded me, regardless of my weariness. My thoughts kept drifting back to all the new things in my apartment. I did appreciate the thought behind what he had done, really I did, but in a way, it also left me feeling a little insulted. I might not have the nicest apartment or furniture or appliances in the world, but I had enough. To Ben, my apartment and my things must look downright dumpy, but I was comfortable. I wasn’t living out of my car. I made enough to pay rent, buy groceries and my utilities. Trying to put some money aside for a rainy day was a joke right now, and yes, I lived paycheck to paycheck, but I was doing better than a lot of single women out there.

  I had worked hard to buy what I had, even if some of it – okay, most of it – had come from thrift stores, secondhand shops, and consignment stores. No, it wasn't the best quality, but it was adequate for me. I did what I could to make my apartment look comfortable and cozy. A few afghans and some decorative pillows did wonders to dress up the sofa and my bed. I had found a few cheap old things at an antique store that added some charm to the living room. A small end table under the window in the living room decorated with an old lantern, and the old trunk in the corner that held an assortment of colorful arm pillows. A couple of inexpensive framed posters of two of my favorite black and white movies: Cary Grant’s, It Happened One Night, and Mister Blandings Builds His Dream House.

  So, I was comfortable and surrounded by things I wanted in my apartment; things that I had chosen, and for a reason. Ben was used to the nice things in life, the best of the best, so what had he been thinking? Was he embarrassed for me? Of me? It didn’t matter. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone and if Ben wanted to like me, he would have to like me just the way I was.

  Still, I didn't want to deal with the fact that he thought he could regale me with material things and gifts in order to win my favor. That was just something I would not – could not – become comfortable with. I don’t know how he had wooed other girls, or what they had expected from him in return for their favor, but that wasn’t at all what I was about. I wasn’t about to change for anyone, not even Ben. Besides, I didn’t know what to do about all this. I had a feeling that all Ben was interested in was a rouse – the chase. Perhaps I offered him a challenge. I didn’t know and at this moment, I tried not to care.

  The past few days dealing with him had been exhausting. Another of the many reasons why I had avoided dating anyone for so long. Developing, or even maintaining any kind of relationship, even a fairly superficial one like Ben and I had going, took brain juice and a lot of effort. I just didn’t feel like I had the energy. Right now, all I wanted to do was sleep. I wanted to put everything out of my mind and worry about it tomorrow. Eventually, my exhaustion overcame my racing, confused thoughts and I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  *

  The following morning, I woke up feeling refreshed. No doubt about it, the new mattress was supremely comfortable, as were the new sheets and bedding. My fingers slid easily over the fabric. Then, as if my conscience got the better of me, I felt the twinge of guilt. Even while I self-consciously fingered the high thread count of the sheets, which I swear felt like melted butter, I told myself to stop. I had never owned such soft sheets. I glanced over the lightweight comforter at the base of the bed. It was lovely and suited my sense of style, what there was of it. Still, not something I would have bought for myself.

  In fact, the more I thought about the things Ben had bought, the more I began to feel a little bit uneasy with my comfort. I climbed out of bed and wandered through the apartment again, looking at the things that had been replaced. It wasn't like I had an emotional attachment to any of the things that I had found for my place, but what if I had? What if I had an emotional attachment to my old couch, lumpy though it was? What if the old, round, scratched and dinged coffee table had sentimental value to me? Ben wouldn't have known that. For all he knew, my stuff was just junk: garage sale, thrift shop junk. But what if one of my pieces had been a family heirloom, something that I had brought from my old life into my new one?

  That thought annoyed me because it displayed a lack of consideration. The fact that he hadn't asked, that he had just done it, made me feel uneasy. Did he think he could just walk into my life and start controlling me? Replacing things just because they weren't up to his standards?

  There was no doubt that everything that he had purchased was beautiful. The couch smelled new and the cushions felt plump and comfortable. The narrow, oblong coffee table with glass top was lovely, no doubt about it, the dark oak polished to a fine sheen. In the kitchen, the new stainless steel refrigerator was certainly better than the dented and rattling contraption that had been in there before.

  Had the landlord approved the new appliances? How had Ben accomplished so much in such a short time? Then again, I realized the bald truth. Money could buy just about anything these days. Still, I struggled with my emotions over it all. On the kitchen table – new and polished oak like the coffee table – stood five or six boxes of various sizes, wrapped in white paper with pretty red and pink bows. Some of the boxes were small, some a little larger. In one, I had found a gorgeous, plush bathrobe with my initials embroidered on the shoulder.

  In one of the smaller boxes, I found an expensive piece of jewelry: a bracelet with some type of red stones set into a heavy, pewter or silver etched setting. Tucked beneath the ribbon of one of the gifts was a card. I open
ed it and read: To my Queen of Hearts. This is just a sample of the life you can live with me as your King.

  For a second, I smiled, but then my sense of frustration and uncertainty took over. Ben or any other man could buy my favor. It was just as plain and simple as that. The card had no signature, but I had no doubt that all of this had come from Ben. Not a single doubt. I didn't know whether I should be flattered, insulted, or just plain and simply freaked out. The truth of the matter was that he might end up being quite a creep if he didn’t get his own way. After all, my husband’s attitudes toward me had certainly changed after I filed for divorce. He had even stalked me for a while, begging me repeatedly to stop the divorce proceedings, promising to change.

  I had stood my ground. The longer I did that, the angrier my ex had gotten. Pretty soon, I was receiving angry, sometimes nasty messages on my answering machine. A few of those messages had even hinted of violence. I had to change my cell phone number, delete my e-mail account and create a new one. I had deleted my Facebook account, too. I didn't need this drama! I thought of what Ben had said, and despite his fact that he said he didn't want anything permanent, no strings attached, he seemed to be a little too obsessed with me. What I was going to do about it was the big question.

  *

  I spent most of the day just putting around, trying to decide what to do with all the new stuff in my apartment. I went down to the maintenance manager's office, asked if he had anything to do with all the new stuff in my apartment. He admitted that he had let Ben in after being told it was a surprise for me.

  "You didn't even think to call me about it, Jake?" I asked, concerned that he had been so willing to open my door to a literal stranger.

  "He told me you guys were going out and that the gifts and the appliances, everything was a surprise." He frowned. "It was, wasn't it?" He began to fidget nervously, sensing that things were not quite as Ben had implied. "On my God, tell me that I didn't let a stalker into your apartment."