Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

I fiddled with the watch on my wrist, careful to not accidentally press the button on the side. Wilson was right, it looked like an Apple watch and functioned like one, too. Before Wilson had taken me home Jack set the watch to sync to my phone. It also had cellular service so I didn’t need my phone near me to make or receive calls.

The device should’ve made me feel better but now with a full understanding of what was happening I didn’t think I’d ever feel safe again.

Wilson had called Martin Jackson a monster. The scary thing was, he looked normal. Sure, he was a little creepy with his ‘sit with me and be my lucky charm’ but that wasn’t abnormal for Vegas. The man dressed well, spoke well, was good-looking in an average sort of way. He carried himself like any other rich playboy looking to flex his wealth and get laid.

How many other monsters were floating around town, looking normal?

“Hey, Atlee,” Diana happily chirped as she descended the stairs of her two-bedroom courtyard villa.

The apartment was half the size of Martin’s but coming in at just over five-thousand square feet it was impressively large. It had all the makings of luxury with less flash.

“Good afternoon, Di. I haven’t heard from you today so I’m just checking in.”

The beautiful fitness model turned social media celebrity turned professional poker player tossed herself on the plush leather couch.

“I heard you did well last night,” I commented.

That was, if you considered ‘well’ about a hundred grand shy of a million.

“It seems crazy to say this, but it was a shit night.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “You know sometimes I wonder what it would be like to go back to being a nobody.”

“Diana, you were never a nobody.”

She waved her hand and smiled.

“Thanks,” she grumbled. “I just mean go back to the person I was. It’s exhausting playing the role of a Ditzy Diana. Sometimes it’s hard to remember who I’m supposed to be and when. At first it was fun. It felt like a social experiment, you know? The more makeup I put on, the less clothes I wore, the more skin I revealed, the less serious I was taken. It was fascinating to watch.”

“The old Dolly trick,” I noted.

“Yes! People underestimate Dolly. But under those wigs and pushup bras is an intelligent woman who played the music industry. They thought they could pull one over on her until they learned she was smarter than they were.”

“But you’re done being Dolly?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s not fun anymore but I have too many people depending on me to call it quits.”

Unlike Martin, Di didn’t travel with an entourage. Her assistant, who was never far from Diana was a friend from college. Luci didn’t buy into the bullshit fame brought. She was a level-headed smart woman who kept Diana in check. And she had two bodyguards. The protection was necessary to guard the large sums of cash she left the casino with.

Something the general public wasn’t aware of, but high rollers and VIPs didn’t take their winnings in a check or wire transfer. They bought in with a cashier’s check. The amount of the initial buy-in was paid in the form of the buy-in—that was Nevada state law. But the proceeds beyond the buy-in were paid in cash. A check could be canceled. A wire transfer intercepted. Cash was king. And leaving a hotel with a million dollars shrink-wrapped in hundred-thousand-dollar bundles needed to be protected.

I’d been Di’s host last year she’d been visiting the property. She should’ve no longer had access to me after my promotion, but the hotel allowed her request. That meant I knew Di fairly well. She was not Ditzy Diana when I was around. She was just herself. And seeing her both in public and behind closed doors when she was makeup-free and in lounge gear, I knew the show she put on. I also knew Luci. The woman was straightforward and a good friend.

“Luci only wants what’s best for you. And you know she hates Vegas. If you told her you were done she’d probably jump for joy.”

“Isn’t it your job to convince me to continue gambling in hopes I’ll lose big and make the casino a lot of money?”

“Yep.”

“Yet, you’re telling me to walk away with all the money I’ve won. Which, just in case you weren’t keeping track—”

“Is three-point-four mil and some change,” I interrupted. “Not to mention the comps, villa, promo chips, and the private jet.”

Diana sat up straight on the couch and looked around the room.

“This isn’t me,” she groaned.

“Then walk away.”

Bright blue eyes peered up at me from under her lashes.

“You know why I always demand you as my casino host?”

“Because I get you the best seats to whatever show you want to see and into the hottest night clubs,” I teased.

Though it was the truth.

“No. Because you remind me of Luci. In a town full of sharks, sharps, and users you’re real. I can be me around you. And for someone like me you have no idea how much I appreciate and need that. You see Di, not the whale.”

“That’s a lovely compliment.”

“I need to finish the tournament, then I think…” She paused and nodded. “I’m done.”

The breath she blew out sounded tranquil.

“Good.”

Diana stood, took a few steps, and tilted her head.

“You look different.”

Oh, shit.

If Diana picked up on my fear, Martin and Eden definitely would. Like Wilson said, they had millions of reasons to be watchful and suspicious of the people around them.

“Different?”

“You’ve met someone.” She smiled. “You’re glowing.”

Heat hit my cheeks and other parts besides.

“It’s nothing. Just a little bit of fun.”

Lie.

I was falling fast.

“Nothing wrong with a girl getting herself some fun.”

Diana beamed a brilliant smile.

“Before you go, I wanted to ask you about someone,” she started. “I know you can’t tell me much but what do you know about Martin Jackson? He’s staying in the mansion on the top floor.”

I fought to keep my expression neutral when I asked, “What about him?”

“His assistant, Eden, spoke to Luci. She extended an invitation to a party he’s throwing in his villa. Luci didn’t like the feel of her. But you know Luci; she doesn’t like a lot of people and errs on the side of caution when it comes to me.”

That was Luci in a nutshell.

“You should listen to Luci.”

“That bad?” She scrunched her nose.

Way, way worse than ‘that bad.’

But I wasn’t at liberty to say how bad it was.

“Just, promise me you’ll listen to Luci.”

Diana was a tall, leggy model with blue eyes. When she wasn’t putting on the Ditzy Diana act she was a sweet, girl-next-door type. Just the type Martin would love to get his nasty hands on.

“Okay, Atlee, I promise,” she gently returned.

“How about a massage and private yoga class before tonight’s game?” I changed the subject.

“Yes. Please. That sounds amazing.”

“Good. I’ll set it up and schedule Luci a facial during your class.”

“She would love that.” Diane stepped forward then launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. “You always take such good care of us. I think you’re the only thing I’m gonna miss about Vegas.”

I hugged her back and murmured, “You know just because I’m not sending the PJ to pick you up and being an all-around great casino host doesn’t mean you can’t call me. I can leave Vegas to come visit you.”

Diana pulled away just enough to look me in the eye.

“You’d come to the ranch and visit me?”

“Hell yeah. Though don’t think you’re gonna get me in that torture chamber you call a gym. It takes work keeping this body out of shape and soft, I can’t go ruining it with exercise.”

“Promise you’ll visit.”

“If you promise me you and Luci will stay as far away from Mr. Jackson and his associates as you can. And if they give you any trouble you’ll call security and keep Brad and Tony close.”

Diana’s eyes widened.

“He’s shady,” she whispered.

Shady didn’t begin to describe Martin but still I nodded.

“Why are people such dicks?” she asked as she broke our embrace.

“That’s a question for the ages. I’ll text you when your appointments are scheduled. You’re at the table at ten, right?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I need two hours to get into my Ditzy Diana getup.”

“Tonight, it’s your Dolly getup. Go big, sister, and run the table.”

I got another big, bright smile before she winked.

“I think I will. One last show for the assholes who think they’re better than me.”

I knew better than to wish Diana good luck. She, like most players, was superstitious.

After another hug I left Di’s villa, then contacted my other clients before I set up Di and Luci’s en suite massages.

With no other choice, I made my way to the top floor of the mansion.

I exited the elevator and blew out a breath.

I can do this.

Martin wasn’t here, he was at the speedway, an excursion I’d set up for him. According to Cat she would be keeping him occupied for the evening. I pushed that out of my mind. I didn’t want to know what that meant. I’d been worried about her before I’d met her. Knowing she was undercover didn’t lessen my worry. She was a tiny little thing, Martin could overpower her and do any number of…nope, not going there. If I did I wouldn’t be able to pull off oblivious VIP host which was what I needed to do.

I knocked on the door and waited.

A member of Martin’s team opened the door. Normally a butler would be assigned to the room, however, Eden had declined. Now I knew why.

“Miss Levine,” the man greeted.

“George, how are you this afternoon?”

He didn’t answer, though I didn’t need him to. The dark circles under his eyes told the tale. He’d been up all night working the disgusting sex party. Probably got himself a little action while he was at it.

Gross.

My stomach knotted.

He moved farther into the foyer, expecting me to follow, which I did.

I glanced around the space. There was no evidence of a party. The room was spotless and empty.

Where did the women stay when they weren’t working? Wilson had said the prostitutes were Martin’s. Did he fly them in or did he have hordes of women around the country working for him?

“The maids have been in but we need more towels for the pool.”

“I’ll have more delivered. Anything else?”

“Miss Dunhill would like you to call her. She needs to make a liquor order.”

How much alcohol did one sex party need?

“Of course.”

There was a stretch of silence.

I guess that was all?

“Is there anything else? Mr. Jackson is at the speedway all day. Would you like me to arrange entertainment for you and the rest of the men?”

George smirked and shook his head.

“I think we’re all topped up on entertainment.”

Ugh.

Disgusting.

“If you change your mind, give me a call. Before I leave I’m going to check the rest of the residence to make sure I don’t see something that needs attention.”

“Gavin is in a meeting in that office room. Don’t go in there.”

“In the library?” I clarified.

“Yeah. That place.”

As smart as Wilson thought Eden and Martin were, they surrounded themselves with dumb muscle heads.

“I’ll steer clear.”

I walked the suite. Like the living room, the rest of the rooms were flawless. I sure hoped Martin was tipping the cleaners well. I made a mental note to check in with the staff. I might not be able to get Martin to a table but I sure as hell would make sure he was treating my staff well.

Holy hell.

My tips.

Martin had been generous with his gratuity. The thought made my belly coil in repulsion. He was tipping me with dirty money. Not just dirty, but dirty with a capital D.

What was I supposed to do now, turn him down when he offered me money? Turn it into Wilson?

I didn’t want it but neither could I change the way I interacted with him.

What a mess.

“She’s asking too many questions.” I heard Gavin’s angry voice through the cracked door.

I slowed my pace to listen.

“Eden’s on top of it,” another man said.

“I told her not to bring that bitch. She hasn’t learned her place.”

“Careful, Gavin,” the man warned. “You need to remember your place. If Eden says she’s on top of it, she’s on top of it. She’s breakin’ her in. Young and fresh are hard to come by.”

“The bitch bit me. She doesn’t even know how to suck cock.”

Revulsion washed over me.

“Is there a problem, Atlee?” George asked from the mouth of the hall.

Shit.

Crap.

Fuck.

Think…

“Yes. The door frames haven’t been properly waxed.”

Good Lord, that was the best I could come up with?

“I’ll send the cleaners back to rectify the issue and make sure everything has been properly polished. My apologies for the inconvenience.”

I resumed walking down the hall when the library door swung open. Gavin and a man I hadn’t seen before appeared in front of me.

“Miss Levine,” Gavin greeted, eyeing me with more speculation than I liked.

“Gavin.” I plastered on my best professional smile. “I was just explaining to George I’m going to schedule another cleaning. It shouldn’t take long. I’d love to reserve a cabana for you for your inconvenience. All drinks will be comped, of course.”

Gavin turned to look at the door.

Shit, he’d heard my excuse.

“Is this what you’re talking about?” He pointed to a minuscule scruff on the frame.

Thank baby Jesus there was a mark.

“I know, it’s unacceptable.”

Gavin looked to the man he’d been speaking with.

“Drinks by the pool, Louis?”

The man grunted.

I took that as a yes.

“Great. Give me ten minutes and I’ll have Lauren come up with the details.”

“Your name’s Atlee?” Louis asked, not hiding his perusal of my body.

Shit.

My finger twitched to press the button on my watch.

“Yes, sir, Atlee Levine. I’m Mr. Jackson’s host.”

“Unusual name. Fitting.”

Gah.

That sounded so much better coming from Wilson.

“Thank you, sir. Enjoy the cabana.”

I did my best to keep my strides slow and measured. I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t know anything, I was just doing my job.

“Will I be seeing you this evening, Atlee?” Louis’s slimy question had me stopping to turn my head to look at him.

“I’m wherever Mr. Jackson needs me to be.”

Louis’s gaze dropped to my chest. Thankfully I was in wide-legged slacks and a loose blouse buttoned to my neck.

“Good day, gentlemen.”

I didn’t breathe again until I was in the elevator.

Maybe Wilson was right and I should call in sick.

I totally sucked at this undercover stuff.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

I blew out another breath before I pulled it out and saw it was Wilson.

The man had impeccable timing.

“Hello?”

“You okay?”

Yep, I sucked at this.

“Sure.”

“Princess,” he growled.

I was acutely aware there were cameras on me that recorded both audio and visual.

“I’m in the elevator heading to the floor now.”

“Got it,” he muttered.

“There are a few small details that need to be addressed but nothing too concerning.”

“Call me when you can and stay alert.”

“Will do.”

I disconnected the call and waited for the doors to open.

The familiar sounds of the casino floor did nothing to calm my racing nerves. I looked around the flashing slot machines that at one time had given me a thrill of excitement and wondered if I was fighting and pushing to move up at the casino because I loved my job or if it was to prove something to my father.

I watched the roulette dealer wave his hand over the board, halting bets. I used to find it fascinating to watch people gamble. Exhilarating when I heard hoots and hollers of a big win. Now I was numb to it. I did love working in hospitality, but it was the Vegas part I was no longer sure of. There were hotels all over the country I could work for. But that would mean my father would win.

Gah.

There was my answer.

Sadly, I was, at thirty-nine, still dealing with my daddy issues.

Maybe it was time I stopped caring what a man who didn’t have the time of day for me thought, and took my advice to Diana and just quit.