He seems confident in his memory of seeing me prior to tonight. To deny being here would be to overplay my hand. It would definitely raise a red flag.
“Not my first time here. Or my first time to win.”
“It certainly isn’t,” he says, one brow lifted.
“Not really sure why I’m back tonight. I lost enough the last time I was here that I should have learned my lesson.” Maybe that’ll throw him off of my scent.
“How much did you lose?”
I roll my eyes upward and shake my head. “So much that I can’t bear to repeat it.”
“Um-hum.”
Adam slightly narrows his eyes. Not enough that many people would even notice. But I notice. And I know what it means: he’s silently telling me to shut my mouth.
And he’s right. Saying too much is how one fucks himself.
I bring my wine glass to my lips and go still when I see a suited man approaching the pit. The guy is easily one of the sexiest men that I’ve ever seen in my life.
He’s every bit of ten years older than me, maybe fifteen, but that doesn’t make him one bit less attractive. Hell, I think that the scattered gray hairs at his temples and in his facial scruff makes him sexy as hell.
I’ve always had a thing for older men.
I straighten my spine and squeeze my arms in, pushing my boobs upward so they’ll spill a little more over the sweetheart neckline of my black dress. I definitely should have worn the red fuck-me dress tonight.
The pit boss leaves his place behind Adam and goes to the man, leaning close to say something into his ear. The two exchange words for a moment and then as quickly as he appeared, Mr. Sexy is gone.
Where the hell did he go?
The pit boss returns to my table and looks at my brother. “Time to rotate.”
Dammit. I wasn’t finished.
My brother places his hands together and then turns them upward, the customary gesture for a departing dealer.
The new dealer takes my brother’s spot, but the pit boss doesn’t take his eyes off me. And that makes me super nervous.
“Mr. Broussard, the owner of the casino, would like to see you.”
He nods, and I turn to find two security guards standing behind me… blocking my escape route from the table. “The owner of the casino? Why in the world would he want to seeme?”
“I think you know why he wants to see you.” He passes a towel to the new dealer who takes it and covers my chips. “We’ll keep these safe for you while you’re gone.”
What do I do? I can’t run. Hell, I can’t even look at my brother for a cue.
I’m so fucked.
I stand, and my knees nearly buckle beneath me. “I need to use the ladies’ room.”
“You can use the restroom in Mr. Broussard’s suite.”
Mr. Broussard’s suite?
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
I walk with security to the elevator, but inside all I want to do is cut my losses and make a break for the exit. I’m wearing thousand-dollar Jimmy Choos, but I’m willing to ditch them if it means getting a clean getaway.
What would Dad do?
