I’m counting my stacks of chips when a guy takes the seat next to me. “Hello.”
I turn and smile at him so I don’t appear rude. “Hi.”
He looks like he’s about my age. A clean-cut blond. Good-looking, I guess, if you’re attracted to fair men. Which I’m not. I like my men darker… in appearance and also in thebedroom.
His button-down polo-style shirt and khakis remind me of a frat boy. He’s probably cocky, which I don’t mind from a man when there’s something to back up his self-confidence.
“Looks like you’re having some luck.” He studies the stacks of chips in front of me. “Whoa, those are hundred-dollarchips?”
Guys my age don’t gamble on the same level as I do, and it blows their minds when they see a girl gambling with serious money. They’re often taken aback by it and want to talk about it. And by talk, I actually mean overtalk it. And I sure as hell don’t need this guy’s big mouth to bring my winnings to the attention of the dealer or the pitboss.
I locate Adam and see that he’s three rotations away from being at my table again. I need to stay and play one more rotation with him to reach tengrand.
“How much have you won tonight?” the guyasks.
I shrug. “I’m not sure. I’d have to think about what I’ve lost as well, and I don’t like to dothat.”
“Daaamn… that’s over eight thousand in front of younow.”
Please shut the fuck up, dude.Now.
The pit boss is looking at my chips now. Not my tits. And I’m suddenlypanicking.
“It’s been a decent night. I’d hate to ruin it by losing what I’ve won, so I think I’d better cashout.”
Eight thousand isn’t what Adam was going for tonight, but this dumb fucker is ruining it forme.
I cash out and leave the casino, giving the valet attendant the ticket for my car. Well, Tristan’s car. I had to drive the Bentley home from his house. I’m only driving it tonight because Adam’s Benz is in the shop, and he’s been driving mycar.
Adam wanted to trade with me. Begged me. I let him take the Bentley for a spin around the block, but that was it. I would still die if anything happened to that expensive-as-fuck car. I don’t know why anyone, even with Tristan’s kind of money, would buy a car likethat.
It’s one in the morning when I pull into my condo’s parking garage. I’m home earlier than I expected, without the full amount, thanks to Mr. Bigmouth dickhead. Why can’t men just leave me alone at the blackjack table? Seriously, young, old, good-looking, ugly as sin—they always see fit to interfere with my game in one way oranother.
I could have it all wrong by looking my best. Perhaps I should try looking like shit. Maybe then men wouldn’t give me a secondglance.
I step out of the car and lock it, the alarm chirping atme.
“Hand over the keys and yourpurse.”
I jolt and stumble backward, my heart instantly pounding out of mychest.
“I said hand over the keys and your purse. Now,bitch.”
I’m paralyzed, unable to speak or move, when the man wearing a black ski mask stalks toward me and punches my face. I turn my head and put up my arm to block his next blow, but it’s zero defense compared to the power behind hisassault.
I fall to the ground, dazed, and feel him rip Tristan’s collar from my neck. “I’ll take that too, thank you verymuch.”
“Please, no. Not mycollar.”
“Your collar?” His laughter reminds me of a villain in a movie. “What are you? A fuckingdog?”
I try to get up, but he kicks me in the abdomen once, twice, three times. “Stay down if you don’t want me to keep kicking the shit out ofyou.”
I roll onto my side into the fetal position and hold my stomach, lying there until the excruciating pain dulls. When I no longer feel like I’m going to puke up my guts and die, I stand and try to gain my balance using thewall.
My purse, phone and house keys are gone, along with Adam’s eight thousand dollars and Tristan’s quarter-million-dollar car. But what hurts the most is that my collar isgone.
I want myDom.
