Hustler

by Meghan Quinn

  With the glasses on a tray, I pick it up and start to walk it over to Kit and his ladies but I’m stopped when Penelope grabs the tray out of my hands and says, “Allow me, Mr. Saint.”

  Startled by her gesture, I step back and let her carry the tray, handing the drinks to my guests.

  Gesturing to Scott and Graham to join, I say, “Kit, I’d like you to meet my friends, Graham Larson and Scott Turner. Graham, Scott, this is Kit Henderson.”

  “Pleasure,” Scott says, lending out his hand.

  “You work with the Fighting League, don’t you?” Kit asks in recognition.

  Nodding, Scott replies, “I do. I believe I’ve secured some rather good seats for you in the past.”

  “You have. I appreciate your hard work in getting me those seats. You’ve never let me down.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Turning to Graham, Kit holds out his hand. “Graham, it’s good to finally meet you in person. I’ve been a fan of Hotel Paragon for a while.”

  Dollar signs flash in Kit’s eyes as he sizes up Graham. Despite the rough beginning of Graham’s evening, I have no doubt in my mind that it will wind up being rather successful.

  “Thank you.” Graham shakes Kit’s hand with pride. “I’m quite proud of the property. Looking to expand one day.”

  An indulgent smile spreads across Kit’s face. “Just what I was hoping you were going to say.” Looking to the room, Kit sniffs the air and says, “Smells like heaven in here.”

  “Compliments of our chef.”

  “Remind me to get her number,” Kit winks, eyeing Page. Apparently he really likes leggy blondes. Jessica and Meghan don’t hold a candle to Page though. By the way Graham’s biting the side of his cheek in frustration at Kit’s perusal, I can tell this is going to be an interesting night.

  Checking my watch, I wander over to the kitchen while Graham and Scott carry on a casual conversation with Kit. “How are we doing on dinner?” I ask Page, scanning Penelope quickly.

  “About ten minutes. I’m searing the steaks now but will need to let them rest for a few minutes before I slice them up. Appetizers are ready, Nell will be happy to serve.” From the side, Page kicks Penelope in the foot.

  “Oh, yep, let me get those set on a tray and I’ll bring them right out.”

  “Thank you.”

  I make my way back to the living room where everyone is standing, glasses in their hands, discussing the latest La Magie show.

  “It’s incredible,” Kit carries on. “They’ve really stepped up the theatrics and stage sets. The colors are so vivid, and the light show just adds to the effects constantly spiraling on stage.”

  Penelope walks up with the tray in her hands.

  “I can’t remember the last time I went to one of their shows. I do remember it being breathtaking though,” I add.

  Salmon En Cruet and mini asparagus mousse tartinis are delicately placed on a silver tray, napkins in the middle. Penelope offers to the women first who both hold up their hands in refusal.

  “They look divine, but we both have to watch our weight. We have to fit into our spandex outfits in three weeks.”

  “Spandex?” Scott asks, intrigued.

  “Yes, Meghan and Jessica were just cast in La Magie this week. It was their first audition,” Kit states with pride.

  “With a little help,” both the girls wink knowingly at Kit who puffs out his chest, clearly loving how he could pull some strings for the girls.

  “That’s fantastic,” Scott congratulates.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Meghan asks, pointing at Penelope whose face has paled, her expression frozen in place.

  “Yes,” she says quickly, shoving the tray into my chest and then bolting to the kitchen where I see her sink down to the floor behind the counter.

  “She didn’t look okay,” Meghan points out. Thank you for stating the obvious.

  Casually, I slip a tartini in my mouth and then pass the tray over to Scott who won’t be a dick and will serve the rest of the group, unlike Graham who would probably shove the tray back at me.

  “I’m going to check on dinner. Graham, why don’t you take Kit and the ladies out to the balcony and let them take in that million dollar view.”

  Gesturing, Graham says, “Right this way.”

  Wiping my hands together to dust off any rogue crumbs, I walk over to the kitchen where Page has a fake smile plastered on her face, cutting the meat. Her other helper is filling water glasses on the table and Penelope is curled on the floor, leaning against a cabinet, her knees to her chest and her face in her hands.

  Visibly sorry, Page gives me a nervous look, like I’m about to lash out at her. Needing to make sure she’s comfortable, I press my hand against her shoulder and say, “Don’t worry about anything. I’ve got this. I’ll be right back.”

  Squatting down next to Penelope, I hook my elbow under her knees and wrap my arm around her back. With one quick lift, I carry her out of the kitchen, past the group whose heads are turned in the opposite direction, and to the back of my villa where my bedroom resides.

  She doesn’t put up a fight, she doesn’t even move, she just continues to cry quietly into her hands.

  The moon barely lights up my room, only casting a glow on the silky grey comforter of my bed. Slowly, I lay Penelope down so her head rests on one of my pillows. Her body turns away from mine giving me the chance to study her shaking shoulders and cowed position.

  I’ve known this woman for a few weeks and in those weeks I’ve learned one thing, she’s a guarded individual, a woman wearing a thick shield of armor that rarely cracks under pressure. The woman lying in front of me is not the same person I’ve grown to know. She’s frail, hurt, timid, and broken down.

  Normally, such behavior wouldn’t affect me. I would move on with my plans and have the woman tended to by someone else. But not with Penelope. The minute I saw her beautiful skin go pale, I wanted to wrap my arms around her and find out what, or who, the fuck put that look on her face.

  There is something about this woman that’s digging its way down into my bones. And honestly, it scares the shit out of me.

  Her soft cries fill the quiet room, breaking my heart in two, making me uncomfortable but also building this need deep in my stomach to take care of her.

  Instead of rolling her over to face me, I walk around the bed to where she’s facing and lay down next to her. I prop my head up on my hand and stare down at her. Instinctively, I use my thumb to erase her runaway tears.

  “Penelope,” I say, hoping she’ll show me those beautiful eyes of hers, but instead, she squeezes them closed tighter, more tears managing to leak out. My heart grips in my chest. “Come here, baby,” I say, sitting up and pulling her onto my lap. Willingly she joins me. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly as she cries, mumbling something incoherent.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You… need… to… get… back,” she says in between sobs and sniffles.

  Kissing her temple, I shake my head. “Not until I know that you’re going to be okay.”

  “I am…” she sighs out a long breath, wiping her tears herself. “I need to get back as well.”

  “No,” I kiss her temple again and then her cheek, which she presses closer into me, her tears are salty on my lips. “Stay in here, rest, collect yourself. I won’t be needing your services tonight.”

  “But I need the money,” she protests.

  Irritated at her refusal to accept my gesture of kindness, I spit out, “You’ll still get paid and do not fucking fight with me about this. Stay here, I’ll come get you when everyone is gone. Please, just rest.”

  Her face turns to mine, our noses practically touching as her eyes search mine. I think she’s about to challenge me when she slowly nods her head in agreement.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  Her right hand comes up to my cheek and cups it tenderly, her thumb running against my skin. Her eyes scan mine one more time right before her
lips fall lightly across my own, barely grazing them. My stomach bottoms out before falling into a series of somersaults. It’s the lightest of kisses, not demanding, not sexual, but intimate, nonetheless.

  Losing myself in her touch, she runs her tongue along the opening of my mouth, coaxing me to open further, to the point that I press my tongue against hers.

  It’s not fast.

  It’s not hard.

  It’s slow, deliberate, sexy as hell.

  A burning sensation takes over my body, heating it up to the point that I feel the need to take off my jacket. Everything about this kiss is intimate, lustful, and comforting. A kiss I’ve never experienced before.

  What the fuck is happening to me?

  Before I can dive into that thought, she pulls away and sinks down into the bed, turning away from me and gripping one of the many pillows decorating the massive California king.

  My fingers press against my lips, feeling where she branded them. Confusion knits across my brow. Glancing down at the woman who’s slowly breaking me down, I can’t help but wonder why the hell I’m letting her.

  From the living room I can hear laughter and I realize I can’t lie on this bed, next to Penelope, holding her and contemplating the affect she has on me. I have a dinner party to blow through so I can get back to this girl. This all-consuming, addictive girl.

  Chapter Sixteen

  **NELL**

  As I lay in the dark room, which smells exactly like Gavin, I can’t help but feel like the world’s biggest idiot. I can’t believe I lost it like that, in front of everyone. I’ve always tried my hardest not to be that girl. You know, the one who whines about how unfair life is and throws herself a pity party on a regular basis? But hearing that those two girls knocked me out of the running during today’s audition, and all because their… whatever the hell he was… pulled some strings… well, it gutted me.

  It isn’t fair, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I just lost it, to my utter humiliation, in front of Gavin of all people.

  Just fucking perfect.

  I don’t know how long I lay there sniffling, my eyes continuing to leak before they finally grew too heavy to stay opened, but I must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing I know, the bed is dipping with someone’s weight, and I wake in a daze, unsure of where I am.

  Shooting upright, I try and get my fuzzy brain to cooperate and remember where I am. Then I hear it, the sound of his rich, velvety voice, and I remember.

  “Lay back down, Penelope. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask, bringing one of my palms up to my aching forehead. Thanks to my earlier crying jag, I have a dull, annoying ache that starts behind my eyes and is moving its way up my skull. As my eyes adjust to the darkness in the room, I’m able to make out Gavin’s tall body, sitting with his back to my side of the bed.

  “The party ended just a little while ago. Everyone’s gone home.”

  “Shit,” I sputter, climbing to my knees and crawling across the bed. “I have to go. I can’t believe I fell asleep like that. I’m so sorry.”

  His warm, calloused hand wraps around my ankle, halting my progress across the bed and jerking me back toward him. “Lay back down,” he repeats in a much sterner voice.

  “B-but… I can’t!” I stutter. “Gavin, the party’s over. I need to go home. I can’t stay here.”

  He stands from the bed and faces me. “You can and you will.” With one last yank of my ankle, I’m on my back, just inches from Gavin’s hard body. It’s in this very moment, with Gavin now hovering over me, that I notice his shirt is unbuttoned… all the way down. I can’t make out the definition in his stomach and chest, but I’m able to see just enough bumps and ridges to know they’re there. If seeing him sweaty and shirtless in the park hadn’t been the turn on of a lifetime, then witnessing him standing here, partially undressed with nothing but the moon and the faint lights of the Strip bouncing off of him is enough to make my panties grow instantly wet.

  “Gavin…” I try again, it’s a feeble attempt at best, seeing as my mind has suddenly dived straight into the gutter.

  His hands come down on the mattress on either side of my head, and I’m finally able to see into the depths of his dark eyes. “You showed up at my home, clearly upset about something judging by the tears on your face. You insist on lying to me about what the problem is, and only get through about fifteen minutes of the party, at best, before having a breakdown.” His face comes closer and I can feel his warm breath against my skin. It smells divine, like whiskey with a hint of mint.

  All man.

  All Gavin.

  “I’ve already discussed it with Page,” he continues, and the news that he’s been talking with my best friend… about me has my jaw dropping open, “and she agrees the best thing for you is to spend the night here, where I can make certain you get the rest you so clearly need. I gave her my word, Penelope, and I never go back on my word. So stop struggling. It’s pointless.”

  He stands to his full height and pulls the shirt from his broad shoulders before tossing it on the floor haphazardly. It’s something I never expected him to do, considering every piece of his clothing costs about as much as one month’s rent for Page and me.

  To my dismay, the sound of his belt buckle clinking as he undoes it echoes through the space and I’m forced to suck in a deep breath when Gavin hooks his fingers in the waistband of his slacks and pushes them to the floor, leaving him standing in nothing but a light colored pair of boxer briefs.

  Jesus, his body really is amazing, and the most mouthwatering sight of all is the outline of his cock behind the thin cotton of his underwear. Just the sight of it makes my mouth go dry at the same time another flood of wetness soaks my panties. It should be illegal for a man to be this good looking. How is a woman ever supposed to resist?

  The feel of his touch on my right thigh pulls me from my perusal of his body and, before I know it, he’s skating his rough fingertips up, up, up, and over the material of my skirt until his hand snakes between my back and the mattress. He takes hold of the zipper, yanks it down, and in the blink of an eye, pulls my skirt from my body.

  “Gavin!” I yelp as I try and move away, but as he said earlier, it’s pointless. He already has the hem of my shirt in his hands and is jerking it over my chest, forcing my arms up with the motion until I’m lying there in nothing but my bra and panties. “What the hell are you doing?!”

  “Getting you comfortable,” he returns easily, pulling me across the bed by my ankle once again. With a flick of his wrist, he has the comforter down and is depositing me in the middle of the world’s softest mattress and climbs in behind me, throwing the covers over our bodies and wrapping his arm around my waist, holding my back flush against his rock hard chest.

  “Uh…” My brain flips in my head trying to figure out what the hell is happening as Gavin’s palm rests firmly on my stomach. Wait, is he… spooning me? It’s almost too insane of a concept to believe, but he is. Gavin Saint is spooning me.

  Neither of us say a word for several minutes, and as his breathing grows even I begin to think he’s fallen asleep. Then… “Tell me what happened in there.” It’s not a question, it’s a command, but the softness in his voice removes any harshness.

  My chest rises as I suck in a deep breath. “It’s stupid. I don’t really want to talk about it, okay? I’ll just get embarrassed when you realize what a big baby I acted like.”

  “That wasn’t a request, Miss Prescott.” Ah, so I’m Miss Prescott whenever I don’t obey. “Now tell me, what had you so upset.”

  There is no way in hell I’m telling him about the conversation I had with my dad earlier. When it comes to my parents, I’m extremely protective, and just the thought of discussing the problems they’re having, and my concerns about them, feels almost like a betrayal to them. Besides, that’s a part of my life I want to keep him out of. There is no place for Gavin in that part of my world. But I know he
won’t give up, he’s relentless like that. So I give him part of the truth, knowing he’d read any lies that were to fall from my lips anyway.

  “I was at that audition today,” I say in a small, quiet voice.

  “What audition?”

  With a sigh, I relent and give him the rest of the story, not wanting to drag it out any longer than necessary. “The one your friends were discussing at dinner. I was at that audition earlier today… and every one before that since I moved here three years ago.” The combination of darkness, and the fact I can’t see Gavin’s face makes it easier to pour everything out, like I’m purging at least some of the poison from my body that’s been dragging me under all day long. “It hurt, hearing how easy it was for them to just waltz in there and land a spot with La Magie without really even trying. I mean, I’m sure they’re talented…” I quickly back pedal, realizing I’ve just insulted his friends. “They’d have to be to get in with that troop, right? It just made me feel…” I trail off, so lost in my melancholy that I can’t form the rest of my words.

  “Made you feel what?” he asks in a soft voice when I don’t continue.

  I feel the tears build and my nose stings once again. “Like I’m not good enough. I’ve been trying so hard, and I want it so badly… it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do! There’s just always someone better.”

  Gavin’s body heat disappears as the hand on my stomach forces me to roll over, taking me to my back so he can hover over me, his entire face is a mask of fierceness. “Haven’t you learned yet, Penelope? This town isn’t about being good enough, it doesn’t care how much talent or heart you have. It’ll still chew you up and spit you the fuck out without giving a damn. I’m sure you have more talent in your little fucking toe than either of those two women tonight. But it’s not about talent in Vegas. It’s about who you know, and they’ve both been playing the game for a really long time.”

  “But I can’t play the game!” I cry past the lump in my throat as more dreaded tears break free. “I’ve been doing this for three fucking years, Gavin. I have no connections, there isn’t anyone in my life whose name holds that kind of power. The longer I keep doing this the more I feel like I’m losing another piece of myself every single day. I can’t do it anymore!”