“Ha!” The other guy is clearly not used to being called out on his lousy behavior. “Mistake number two. I can have you shut down just like that.” He snaps his fingers.
Bash smiles. “And I can have you arrested for assaulting a member of my staff.” He nods at one of the security guards, an older guy with long silver-tipped black hair, who slides a mobile phone from his pocket.
“Whoa.” The asshole doesn’t sound quite so sure of himself now. “What the fuck are you talking about? There’s a law against picking up broken glass now?”
This is the part where Bash Murray backs down because he can’t afford a legal battle, and the guest wins. They’ll crack open a bottle of his finest brandy, and they’ll smooth it out with more zeroes than I ever understood in math class.
I’m not sticking around for it.
I’m wet and sticky and suddenly bone tired. If I don’t get out of here, I’ll do or say something that will irrevocably end mycroupier career options and get my name added to whatever blacklist of People Who Are Not Allowed in the Rinse that Bash Murray keeps on his office wall.
I stumble through the Staff Only door, vision blurry with tears of frustration, grateful that no one else is about to witness my humiliation. Sure, on a scale of one-to-ten, this doesn’t compare to getting dumped by your boyfriend and then finding out that he got engaged to someone else. But still, it’s more proof that the odds will always stack in the Armani-suited asshole’s favor.
I stop at the lockers and slide my hand inside the pocket of my pants for my keyring.
It isn’t there.
Pulse racing—I don’t want to go back onto the casino floor and find the boss and the asshole swapping anecdotes over a brandy bottle—I literally pull my pockets inside out. I stare at the empty spot on the floor where my keys should be.
My hand is stinging from the glass wound, and the realization that my dorm key is attached to the same missing keyring, is slowly creating an impossible mountain to climb. My roommate, Ariel, is away visiting family. I could wake up the residence halls supervisor, but it’s out of hours, and she isn’t the kind of woman who would conveniently forget to add a note to her weekly report. And the only place where my keys could be is on the casino floor.
I close my eyes and take deep breaths, trying to regulate my heart rate.
I have to go back out there.
But the pit boss ordered me to leave, and Bash Murray watched me make a complete fool of myself.
My cheeks are burning when a voice behind me asks, “Are you alright?”
I whirl around, dizzy from the lack of oxygen reaching my lungs, and lurch forward. Directly into the arms of Bastien Murray.
He catches me easily. His grip isn’t too hard or too soft. His green eyes are filled with concern as he lowers his head to eye level. His citrussy scent is everywhere, clinging to my skin and my clothes, and I wonder if I’ll ever forget it. Perhaps it will forever be associated with the night I got fired.
“You’re bleeding.” He releases my arms and gestures to the fresh blood in the palm of my hand.
On cue, my sliced flesh starts screaming at me and bouncing around the inside of my skull. “It’s nothing.” I close my fist and instantly regret it when my nail slips underneath the skin, sending a fresh wave of pain through me.
“I can’t let you go home without at least cleaning it up and finding a Band-Aid first. What kind of an employer would that make me?”
“The wealthy kind with bigger problems to handle.” It slips out before I can stop it, and my face grows even hotter. “I mean… the guy in there… I’m sure he pleaded his innocence eloquently.”
I should shut up before I dig a hole that I’ll never be able to crawl out of.
But Bash is grinning at me, and my body turns into a gooey mess at the sight of his perfect teeth and glittering green eyes.
Green eyes and an Irish accent. Kill me now.
“That’s not for you to worry about. He’s barred from the Rinse. And the Titan. And the Wraith. Family business,” he adds at my confused expression.
“Why would you do that?” I’m confused. I must’ve missed the part where he called the asshole a liar and had him escorted from the premises.
“Because you work for us, Remy. You’re my responsibility.” He holds my gaze and my heart starts performing an Argentine Tango to its own tune. “And because I can’t sit back and watch a man ignoring boundaries.”
“You know my name?”
His smile grows even wider. “That’s what you took from that conversation?”
He’s right. He defended me against a guest because the fucker thought he could touch me and get away with it, and all I heard wasBash Murray knows my name.
