KADE
My head buzzed and my body felt heavy as I sat staring out over the casino floor. I was raised there, spent half my time as a kid popping stolen quarters into the machines being chased away by security guards, while my parents rubbed elbows with wealthy guests and celebrities. It'd become so mundane and boring that even the six busty women draped over me wearing practically nothing didn't amuse me anymore.
"Kade, baby, you're not yourself lately," one of them said—Tina or Tara or Tiffany. I never remembered their names, because there were as many of them as there were slot machines. They wanted sex with a chance to trip me up in a pregnancy scandal, and I wasn’t stupid enough to bite most nights. When I did I used a condom—my own to make sure it wasn’t sabotaged—and made them do the walk of shame.
I was over it; bored of life. I knew there was something better for me out there than wasting my time and money partying my life away.
"I’m fine," I grunted, pushing her back from my chest where she had tattooed herself. "I just want space." And another drink, but I didn't say that. Dad would have a fit if he found out I was getting wasted on his dime again. The Atlas, however, had been my home every day. Where did he expect me to go? And I'd just be putting it on his credit card anyway.
"Wanna go up to your room and have some fun?" The woman on my right walked her finger up my chest and across my neck, then cupped my jaw and made me look at her.
She was beautiful—they all were—but I wasn’t in the mood tonight. I politely took her paw from my skin and stood up, shaking them loose as I swayed toward the bar. Thankfully the lot of them stayed put, probably expecting me to bring a round of drinks back, which I had no intention of doing.
I parked on the last stool at the far end of the bar, jerked my chin up at Jimmy to let him know I wanted another, and then let my head drop. I didn't know what my problem was. I could have any woman in the entire city of Las Vegas begging me to wine and dine her; I had money coming out my ears and I had my pick of homes and hotel rooms to entertain and party, but nothing made me feel alive anymore. It was like I was stuck on repeat, doing the same thing over and over, and it never satisfied me.
"You good, Kade?" Jimmy asked as he slid the glass in front of me. My head perked up, but instead of looking at the bartender who'd been serving me since I was sixteen, I locked eyes on a strange sight.
A woman was straggling in looking a little worse for wear, sporting a full designer wedding gown with a long train and so many gems on it she looked like a disco ball. Her hair stuck up at odd angles in places, and mascara ringed her eyes in thick blackswathes, screaming at anyone who looked at her that she'd been crying.
Jimmy's eyes tracked where I was looking and he whistled between his teeth. "Foxy and broken hearted... just your type." Then he chuckled and tapped on the bar. "Behave yourself or your pop'll come down on me for this one." His wink of encouragement only made me grimace.
Was I so easy to read that a bartender could call my next move before I'd even decided what I'd do?
The woman stomped up to the bar and slouched onto a seat, ordering a margarita, then folded herself in half, draping her upper body over the bar and letting her purse dangle from one arm. She gave off the impression that she'd either been left standing at the altar or she’d run off in a huff for some unknown reason. It made my Spidey sense go a little crazy. I wanted to know her story.
I downed the drink and slid off my stool, keeping my eyes fixed on her as I walked around a few other men who were staring at her too, and cautiously sat on the stool next to her. She never looked up once, until Jimmy passed her drink to her saying, "Here ya go, miss."
Her dress was filthy, and up close I got a better look at her face. She really was beautiful despite the mess of her makeup, but she looked like someone had murdered her dog.
Definitely a broken-hearted runaway bride.
She sat up and sucked in a breath of surprise like she wasn’t ready to see me sitting there, then nodded at Jimmy, who darted off to fill another drink order. It took her a minute to register where her drink was before she pulled it closer and gulped it.
"Rough day?" I asked, chuckling, because it was so obvious to anyone who looked at her that she was living a bad dream. I didn't mean it in a rude way, but she scowled at me and kept gulping her drink, holding it up high in the air when the glass was finished. Jimmy looked our way with wide eyes and a skeptical expression and I shrugged at him.
"Another," she grunted when Jimmy walked up.
"I've got it," I told him. "Put it on my tab."
"I don’t need charity," she said, pulling a debit card out of her purse. "Start a tab in my name." She slid the card across the bar toward Jimmy, who held his hands up defensively as if this were a fight between the two of us. I got a glimpse at the name.
Laney Rowan. It had a nice ring to it. "I got it, Jim," I said, then I turned to her. "I'm Kade Kingston," I told her, extending my hand. "Nice to meet you."
Lainey's throat worked around a hard swallow, but she ignored my hand as she turned to start unfastening the buttons on her train. The thing looked super heavy and annoying, and with those manicured fingernails it looked difficult.
"I could... I mean..." I reached for a button, which was probably really rude, but I wanted to help. "I could help."
Her hand lashed out and smacked mine. I jerked back, stifling a chuckle. She was a feisty one. "Sorry," I blurted out.
"I don't need help from you or any other man. Do you understand me?" she said hastily. Tears welled up in her eyes and poured over her cheeks. I didn't know whether to back away slowly because she seemed a little crazy, or let my heart breakfor her because whoever the douche was that broke her heart deserved to be slugged.
So I sat there watching her struggle, until she gave up when Jimmy brought her second drink. "Another," I said, jerking my chin up, and he nodded at me.
I was a little out of sorts, a bit wasted and moody, but I decided to choose the high road. A woman like Lainey Rowan didn't need Playboy Kade; she needed a shoulder to cry on, and an anchor point to make sure some other douchier man didn't do something dangerous to her. It was the least I could do after offending her by trying to help.
Lainey cried a bit harder for a moment, gulping her second drink just as fast as the first one, but didn't look over at me again until Jimmy brought both of us another round. Most of her mascara was on her chin at that point, and her slumped posture and bloodshot eyes indicated the drinks were starting to hit her. She probably hadn’t eaten today, either.
I didn't know what to expect when she started talking, but I wasn't surprised by what came out.
