by Cassia Leo
Of course, Dex wasn’t in any of the pictures because Dex is my new bodyguard. Cash didn’t have time to interview anyone before I was released from the hospital three days ago, so he sent Dex to protect me. He claims he’ll be fine with just one bodyguard for the next few weeks, especially now that he’s almost a married man. All joking aside, I’m worried that he may be putting himself at risk for me.
I guess I should feel honored that he would do such a thing, but the truth is that I’m scared. If Benny finds out I’m involved with Cash, the same way he found out I’m working at the Billionaire Club, I highly doubt a single bodyguard will do much to stop him.
In the meantime, I’ve had Dex posted outside my house for the past three days because I can’t let him inside the house. He can’t know about my dad. He’s seen Jacie coming and going from the house, but he thinks she’s actually here for me. At least, that’s what I told him. I hope he believes me.
It’s almost ten p.m. and I’m supposed to go to Cash’s penthouse at midnight, but I haven’t heard from him since ten a.m. This is unusual considering he’s been texting me every two to three hours over the past few days. I’m trying not to imagine that something happened to him, but it’s hard not to worry.
Despite what the tabloids say about him, Cash is a good person. At least, I hope he is. I really don’t want to fall for him and end up with a broken heart. I don’t know if I could take anymore tragedy at this point in my life.
I’ve been getting up to shower and use the restroom at least three times a day, with a little help from Jacie. When I stand up all by myself to start getting ready to go to Cash’s, I’m surprised when the pain is not excruciating. If I grit my teeth, I’m able to walk to the bathroom with only a slight limp. But the moment I get there, I immediately lower the lid on the toilet so I can sit down.
I text Dex to tell him I’ll be coming out in a couple of hours, then I set about curling my hair and applying my makeup. When I come out to the living room to leave, both Jacie and my dad are fast asleep, Saturday Night Live playing on the TV with the sound muted. The moment I open the front door, Dex is standing right outside.
I fall over myself trying to get out of the house quickly so he can’t see my dad’s hospital bed in the living room. He catches me around the waist with one of his thick arms, so I don’t fall into the potted cactus on the front doorstep, and I yelp with surprise. I reach for the doorknob to pull it closed, but it’s too late. Dex’s dark eyes are locked on the hospital bed in the dimly lit living room.
I hastily push his arm off and pull the door softly shut. “Thank you,” I mutter, my gaze focused on the concrete pathway as I limp away from him toward the street, where his Mercedes is parked at the curb.
He hesitates for a moment before he catches up with me. “Let me help you,” he says, offering the crook of his elbow for me to grab onto.
Ignoring the searing pain in my hamstring, I continue down the driveway toward the curb without his help. He quickly opens the back door for me to get in, but I respond by opening the front passenger-side door for myself.
“I’d rather sit in the front, thanks,” I say, gingerly sliding into the front seat and looking away as he closes the door for me. Once we’re at least a half a mile away from my house, riding in silence down Flamingo Road, I take a deep breath and turn to him. “What you saw in there, Dex, that was—”
“You don’t have to explain to me.”
“But I want to explain it to you. It’s… My dad is very sick. So, yeah, I saw this bet as an opportunity to help him get better. But please don’t tell Cash.”
He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head. “You know I can’t keep something like that from him. Even if I tried, he’d get it out of me.” He flashes me a hard look as he comes to a stop at a red light. “And you can’t keep something like that from him either. Ain’t this whole thing so you two can get to know each other? You can’t know somebody if you’re keeping secrets from them.”
I turn away from him, too ashamed to admit he’s right. If I don’t tell Cash the truth, we’ll never get to know each other. And maybe we’ll still be able to fool the board of directors of Westbrook Oil, but maybe we won’t. And then what? I have to go back to working at Smith’s Gambling Hall for $50 in tips per night, if I’m lucky.
I have to tell him the truth.
“I’ll tell him,” I say, my gaze still focused out the window at the dazzling lights as we approach the Strip. “Thank you…for watching over us these past few days.”
Dex is silent for a while, but when I turn to him he’s smiling. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. He’s always been the serious one while Hector seems to be the one with the sense of humor.
When he turns onto Las Vegas Blvd., it dawns on me that if someone sees me with Dex, they might deduce that I’m going up to see Cash.
“We can’t valet the car,” I say. “Can’t you take me in through the parking garage or something?”
He smiles again. “Don’t worry. I’ll drop you off by the elevator in the parking garage, then I’ll park the car. You can go up without me, so we’re not seen together.”
“But what if someone sees you drop me off?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “At 12:21 in the morning? I highly doubt it. And if there’s anyone hanging out near the elevators, we’ll drive around till the coast is clear. I got this, okay?”
I nod as I check my phone for messages, but Cash still hasn’t texted me or called me. I know we agreed on this meeting days ago, and he’s mentioned it in passing multiple times, so I don’t think he’s forgotten. He’s probably just busy, trying to get other stuff done before I arrive.
The moment Dex turns into the entrance of the parking structure, another car is coming out and I quickly duck.
He chuckles as he continues driving. “Relax. They’re gone.”
I sit up straight and sling the strap of my purse diagonally across my chest, ready to make a break for the elevator as soon as he stops. Well, I can’t really “make a break” for it. More like limp carefully toward the elevator.
He stops the Mercedes right next to the silver doors. “See you inside,” he says, his smile gone. He’s all business now.
I open the door and immediately I’m blasted with a gust of hot, suffocating Vegas air. But the heat makes my muscles relax a bit, which I’m thankful for as I make my way toward the elevator. As soon as I press the call button, the elevator opens and a man with silver hair and a crisp navy-blue Oxford and khaki’s cocks an eyebrow at me as he exits.
“Do I know you?” he says in a deep, clear voice.
The man is handsome for an older gentleman, and I remember exactly where I’ve seen him: at the Billionaire Club four nights ago.
I shake my head as I enter the elevator. “Don’t think so,” I say, trying to keep my head down as I press my thumb to the fingerprint reader then hit the button for the penthouse level.
I pretend to fix my hair so I can hide my face as the doors close. When the elevator cab begins to rise, I sigh and raise my head, glancing over my shoulder at my reflection in the mirrored wall behind me. I look anxious.
Taking a few deep breaths, I thank God that no one else gets on the elevator on the way up. The doors open onto the penthouse level, but when I get to the fingerprint scanner at Cash’s door, it doesn’t open for me. But it just worked in the elevator. That doesn’t make sense.
I reach into my bag to get my cell phone, but the front door opens before I have the chance to dial. Cash steps out into the vestibule, closing the door behind him. The serious look on his face makes my stomach weak.
“What’s going on?” I ask, though I have a feeling I already know. Either Dex called him and told him about my father, or he found out through the background check.
“Your father is Kurt Langley.” He says this as a statement, not a question. “The same Kurt Langley whose team took The Mirage for $1.2 million dollars.” He takes a step toward me, his eyes trained o
n me as if I’m prey, but I don’t avert my gaze. “The same Kurt Langley who was fired from Union Oil eighteen months ago.”
“He wasn’t fired!” I correct him, my face flushing with heat. “He was laid off! They changed his employee record after they found out he was sick.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re not even going to try and deny it?”
I glare right back at him. “Why should I? My dad is the one who was screwed over by your company. He did nothing wrong.”
“Right. It’s just the big, mean corporate baddies who are always wrong, right? That’s why you here, isn’t it? You found out I was the one who ordered the layoffs and now you’re here to get your revenge? Well, it looks like your little plan failed.”
“You, what?” I reply, my heart racing as the reality of his words hits me. “It was… It was you? You’re the one who laid him off? You’re the one who ruined our lives?”
He looks confused for a moment, then his expression hardens again. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know. That’s why you were here all along. You’re just like all the rest of them, trying to get close enough to get what you want. But you never wanted the money, did you? No, you wanted to make sure I got forced out of my job just like your dad.”
“Fuck you!” I shout. “I’m not one of those hundreds of girls you’ve fucked, and you’d better believe I wanted that money. I need that money to pay the hospital bills I’m drowning in ever since you let my dad go. But you don’t give a shit about that, do you?” I step forward so my face is inches from his. “Because you’re too fucking paranoid that someone’s going to burst your rich-boy bubble.”
He laughs in my face and I shove him hard in the chest, then I turn on my heel and begin to walk away. But I put too much pressure on my leg and almost fall. I manage to jut my arm out and lean my weight against the wall as I lift my bad leg up to ease the pressure. Probably out of instinct, he reaches out to help me, but I bat his hands away.
“Don’t touch me! I don’t need your help.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from the woman who’s been pretending to help me for the past few days.”
I hobble to the elevator and press the call button, but he’s still right behind me. “At least I don’t get off on ruining people’s lives.”
He laughs. “Oh, yes. You know me so well. I just love sitting in my hot tub, sipping champagne while planning how I’m going to destroy the lives of poor, unsuspecting people.”
“I’ll bet you do, fuckface.” The doors open and I stumble a little when I hop inside, and once again he tries to catch me. “I said don’t touch me, assclown!”
“Assclown?” He chuckles as I violently punch the button for the lobby level.
I flip him off as the doors begin to close and something about the puzzled look on his face makes my stomach clench. I lean back against the mirrored wall to ease the pressure off my leg as I try not to cry.
I can’t believe the nerve of that guy. He’s the one who tossed my dad out like a sack of garbage, basically ruining my life, and he’s the one who’s angry?
Fuck him.
I’ll be back at work tomorrow and I’ll make a ton of tips now that I don’t have to worry about helping Cash Westbrook. I’ll work as long as I can. I’ll flirt as much as I want. I’ll do whatever it takes to pay off this debt without ingratiating myself to a screwed-up rich boy.
The elevator doors open and I’m not surprised to see Dex waiting for me in the lobby. I grit my teeth against the pain as I try my hardest to hide my limp while walking past him.
“Did he send you here to make sure I don’t steal any extra mints from the concierge desk?” I remark as he follows me toward the glass front doors.
“He didn’t tell me nothing. I’m just here to take you home.”
I look at him like he’s crazy, but his face is dead serious as he reaches for the glass door and holds it open for me to exit. “Why? You don’t work for me. You work for him.”
“Actually, I employed by Knox Security. I don’t work for Cash.” He waits patiently for me to step outside, then he offers his elbow for me to hold onto. “So, until my boss tells me I’m reassigned to Cash, you’re stuck with me.”
I let out a congested chuckle as tears begin to fall. “Thank you, Dex.”
He pulls a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and hands it to me. “He’ll figure out the truth soon enough,” he says with a nod. “And if he doesn’t, he ain’t worth it.”
I flash him a tight smile, but all I can think is, what if Cash is right? What if, subconsciously, I was trying to sabotage him to get revenge for what happened to my father? That doesn’t make what he did any less horrible. And it doesn’t change the fact that I still have a price on my head.
Maybe I can find another rich guy at the Billionaire Club who’ll pay off my dad’s debts. I sigh at this thought as Dex helps me into the front seat of the Mercedes. I can’t be with someone for money. That’s not how I operate.
But the arrangement with Cash was for money.
But that was different, I tell myself. It didn’t start out that way. It started out as blistering hot sex, then it turned into an agreement between adults. That’s all.
Except when he showed up in my hospital room pretending to care about me. I can’t believe I fell for that.
Cash’s words echo in my mind: I know your type. You’re afraid of letting anyone in because you’re afraid anyone who gets close enough to see the real you will realize they don’t like what they see.
No, Cash, you’re wrong.
I’m not afraid of letting people in because of what they’ll see. I’m afraid of getting too close to anyone because everyone I’ve ever loved has left me in the exact position I’m in now. Alone.
11
Cash
According to Dex, Kara had been planning to tell me the truth about her father’s identity that night. He claims they discussed it in the car on the way to my penthouse, but I don’t know what to believe.
I don’t think Dex would lie to me. If he somehow grew attached to Kara over the past few days guarding her, then he would definitely try to cover for her. But are a few days spent with Kara enough to override his loyalty to me? Dex has been with me for years.
Leaning back in the chair in my home office, I stare at the chaotic Ted Gahl painting on the wall as I consider calling Erin, my account representative at Knox Security. I should probably tell her I need Dex reassigned to me instead of Kara, but I can’t bring myself to make the call. If someone is after Kara—or her father—that won’t change just because we had a fight. And I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her.
Fuck. I can’t fall for someone like Kara Langley. Her father probably taught her how to hustle her way in and out of any situation. She probably manipulated Dex into doing her bidding. I can’t trust her anymore than all the other girls who’ve tried to get close to me just so they could sell their stories.
Actually, Kara’s even less trustworthy than all those other girls, because she’s the daughter of a professional hustler. Then, why do I so desperately want to believe that she was going to confess to me last night?
I shake my head as I slip my cell phone out of my pocket and dial Kara’s number. After four rings, her voicemail comes on, causing my heart to race at the sound of her voice: This is Kara. I can’t answer the phone right now, but if you leave a message I’ll get back to you as soon as I can… Unless you’re the guy who ruined my life, then please hang up and never call me again!
My first instinct after that kind of greeting is to end the call right there, but I decide to man-up and leave a message.
“Kara, I’m going to pretend that greeting wasn’t meant for me… Look, I know you were planning on telling me about your father last night. We need to talk. Call me back.”
An hour later, I’m in my kitchen, fixing myself a protein shake before I head to the gym, when I get the urge to call her again. Instead, I call my best buddy, Dean. He answers on
the second ring.
“Where the fuck have you been?” are the first words out of his mouth. “We thought maybe your dad had chained you up in the basement or something.”
“Trying to keep my nose clean,” I reply, pouring my shake into a plastic to-go cup. “My dad says I’m on the fast-track to unemployment unless I can convince the board to keep me on at the corporate retreat in two weeks.”
He laughs. “That’s bullshit. You’re Cash Westbrook. It’s your fucking duty to bring bad press to the company. All publicity is good publicity, and all that.”
I cringe at his implication that Cash Westbrook is some sort of character, a role I’m supposed to play to attract attention to a brand. If this is what my best friend since college thinks of me, is this what everyone thinks of me? Is this how Kara sees me? The company mascot who gets drunk and sticks his dick in a different girl every night, all for the entertainment of the spectators?
“Fuck that,” I reply aloud, my fist tightening around the plastic bottle in my hand.
“Ah, come on, man. You know who you are. Who gives a shit what anyone thinks of you? And who wouldn’t want to be known as the guy who gets as much pussy as you do. So, are you coming out to XS tonight? Heard Leo’s little sister is gonna be there. She’s nineteen now, so she’s fair game. You down for a hate-fuck? That should piss off that cock-smoker.”
My mouth goes dry as I realize Dean is right. I’m the guy most men aspire to be: exceptionally good looking, obscenely wealthy, and drowning in pussy. Why would I change that just to keep a job I don’t need? I can convince another investor to work with me and Kevin Massey of Collectric. Yes, $3.1 billion is a lot of money to raise, but Westbrook Oil wouldn’t be where it is today without my good and bad publicity.