“This is Adrian,” Tony says dryly. “My business partner.”
Adrian.
He looks me over slowly. He’s colder than Tony. Calculating.
“This the one from last weekend?”
Tony told him about me. Probably told him he fucked some desperate slut who needed to pay off her debt.
I brace for a wave of humiliation.
It doesn’t come. Instead heat flares deep in my core, white-hot and obliterating. The world narrows to the ache between my legs. I’m a desperate slut, and it’s glorious.
Before the casino, I was invisible at a charity gala. Now two men are standing here, one with his hand against my pussy, and I—what was I thinking? It’s gone.
I rock my hips, and Tony chuckles before withdrawing his fingers slowly. He makes sure Adrian sees what he’s been doing.
I shudder at the loss of contact and whimper.
“She’s my guest.” Tony moves to stand beside me, one palm resting possessively on the small of my spine.
“Sure.” Adrian doesn’t sound convinced. “The shipment’s been delayed. We need to talk about the alternative supplier.”
“Now?”
“Unless you want to explain to Hendricks why his delivery is three days late.”
A silent conversation passes between them. One I can’t read. Tony’s jaw tightens, but he nods.
“Fine. Make it quick.”
Adrian moves to the bar cart and pours himself two fingers of whiskey. He talks without looking at Tony. Running through numbers and names and logistics that sound like more than casino operations.
Suppliers. Payments. Someone named Hendricks who doesn’t like to wait. A secondary account for the overflow. Contacts who need to be handled before the next shipment. Deliveries and accounts and scheduling conflicts.
I stand frozen by the desk, trying to follow the conversation and failing. The words are ordinary enough, but there’s an underlying current that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Tony’s photo with the state senator. The way staff straighten when he walks through the casino. The expensive watch.
What the fuck have I stumbled into? And should I be hearing all of this?
Adrian finishes his drink. Sets down the glass. Finally turns to look at me.
“You think you know what you’re playing at.” His tone is soft. Almost kind. The contrast with his flat expression makes it worse. It sounds like he’s seen women like me before, and it didn’t end well for them.
“She knows how to handle her debts.” Tony’s palm presses harder against my spine. “Don’t you, Shannon?”
“Yes.” My voice is thin and breathless, and for one small moment I wonder if giving him my real first name last time was a smart choice. Suppliers. Shipments. Secondary accounts. The words circle back, clicking into place like tumblers in a lock. Christ, why didn’t I use a fake name?
Adrian holds my gaze for one more beat before nodding to Tony and walking out. The door closes behind him with a soft click.
Silence.
I stand frozen, trying to name the sensation crawling up my spine. Fear? Excitement? Both?
Then Tony laughs, short and harsh. “I think he liked you. He’s not usually that chatty.”
“I’m not so sure of that.” That was him liking someone? I’d hate to see what happens if he doesn’t.
