“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. Hewantedit.
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 whatIsee, 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.”
