Chapter 9

NINE

The villa at The Boulevard Hotel was a ten thousand square foot monstrosity of opulence. It took up the entire top floor of the hotel leaving no luxury spared. From the marble pillars to the heavy ornate furniture, chef’s kitchen, six bedrooms, to the indoor pool, and two hot tubs. It was a space reserved for V-VIPs. For men and women who could afford a three million buy-in. However, as far as I knew Martin Jackson hadn’t sat a table. He’d bought in, received his half a million in promo chips but hadn’t used them. He seemed more focused on his nightly parties.

My boss was unhappy.

Any attempts I made to get Martin to the tables was met with a smile and a proposition—he’d sit a game but only if I sat next to him as a good luck charm. The proposal was mild by comparison. Some of the things I’d been asked to do as a casino host were downright strange; some lewd, some out-and-out bizarre. It was my job to fulfill my clients every whim. Make the trip to Las Vegas the fantasy. Sexual favors were a hard pass, setting up hookers under the pretense of being strippers not unheard of. So sitting next to a rich man while he blew millions of dollars at a baccarat table wasn’t entirely out of the question but Martin gave me the creeps.

And the more I turned him down, the more interested he seemed to get.

Such was the arrogance of spoiled rich men who weren’t used to the word no.

Tonight’s party was no different than last night’s. Loud music, women in all states of undress from barely there ‘dresses’ to bikinis that were nothing more than strings. Men mostly in suits, some in sweats and t-shirts, some in shorts lounging by the pool. The crowd was a mix of young and old. The young being the women. I wouldn’t guess any of them over twenty-five.

I was the old hag in the room and the only woman modestly dressed. That was until a wide-eyed, blonde bombshell walked in with a tall, statuesque brunette. The poor girl looked like she was ready to run screaming out of the villa. I hoped she would; she didn’t look like she had any business being at a party like this.

One more walkthrough and check in with Martin and I could call it a night.

I found him leaning against a marble pillar looking like a lord watching his subjects. Leering was more like it, but I was actively ignoring the creeps the guy gave me. He was a snake in a suit. A man like Martin could only dream to hold the air of authority like Wilson did.

Wilson.

He was in Vegas.

I’d done the smart thing and told him I was too busy to see him. After I got home from Idaho, I rethought my position. Wilson was important to my grandmother. I couldn’t risk falling for him. I planned on taking more trips to Idaho to spend time with my grandmother and the last thing either of us needed was my visits being awkward.

I was using his time in Vegas as a test.

All I had to do was keep my distance knowing he was so close and I’d pass.

“Atlee, beautiful,” Martin drawled. “Won’t you stay and have a drink with me?”

Hell no.

“Sorry, Mr. Jackson, but I don’t drink.”

“You don’t drink?”

“No, sir, not while I’m working. Is there anything you need before I leave the property?”

Martin’s gaze did a slow perusal of my chest before he smiled.

“I need a lot of things, beautiful.” His smile widened.

Gross.

I swept my hand around the room, my gaze followed, taking in the partygoers.

“You have a full house tonight, Mr. Jackson. I’m sure…”

I blinked, then blinked some more, not trusting what I was seeing.

Beside me I heard Martin’s whistled inhale.

I was pretty sure his response was to the bombshell blonde. Mine was to the man she was speaking to.

Wilson.

The blonde’s doe eyes were full of fear as they darted around the room. She looked like a pixie standing next to the tall, broad, handsome Wilson. Yet somehow they weirdly fit together. The woman looked like she needed a protector and Wilson totally hit the mark.

Suddenly I was dismissed.

“I’ll call you should something come up.”

I watched Martin make his way to Wilson and his date, feeling both relief the swarmy Martin was no longer hitting on me and extreme jealousy.

Martin said something to Wilson, they shook hands, then Martin’s attention went to the blonde. Wilson dipped his chin and moved away from the woman, scanning the crowd as he walked toward the bar.

I knew the moment he saw me. I didn’t need to watch his eyes flare, or see his steps falter. I felt an electrical pulse move through me.

This was not good.

I should’ve run.

But instead I stood my ground and watched the show. Wilson McCray did not simply walk—he stalked. His strides were purposeful. He looked like a man who was in control of his body.

As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from drinking him in.

No one wore a suit better than Wilson.

Damn.

“Atlee.”

Unlike Martin’s slimy drawl, Wilson’s growl sent shivers down my arms.

Would there ever be a time when my body wouldn’t react to this man’s voice?

Probably not. All the more reason for me to keep my distance.

“Wilson—”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The bite of his tone sent the shivers on hiatus.

Then it dawned on me—Wilson was in Martin’s villa with half-naked women parading around looking to snag themselves a wealthy sugar daddy. Top shelf women who were on the prowl. All it would take Wilson was a crook of his finger and he’d have his pick.

Disgust coated my mouth.

“Don’t worry, I was just leaving. Enjoy your night.”

My attempt to step around him was impeded when he stepped closer.

“What the hell does that mean?” he angrily asked, his gaze slipping to the side.

I followed his eyes and my belly clenched.

Wilson was watching the beautiful blonde with Martin.

God, this was horrible.

A loud, obnoxious squeal rang out then a chorus of giggles. The party was just getting started. I knew from last night’s call at three in the morning from Martin, needing me to come back to the property to handle a champagne delivery that had been wrong that things would get rowdier. Half-naked would turn into fully nude and sex acts would be plentiful.

The cleaners had their work cut out for them.

“It means just that. I’m leaving. Enjoy your night.” I paused as a shirtless guy in baby-pink boardshorts passed by dragging a woman with the largest fake breasts I’d ever seen, two small triangles covering only her nipples, behind him. When they were out of earshot I continued. “Professional courtesy; I wouldn’t get in the hot tub if I were you.”

The tubs had been fully drained, disinfected, and refilled but they were already in use. God knew what bodily fluid had already been spilled into the bubbling hot water.

Gag.

Wilson’s angry blue eyes were back on mine.

Was he pissed I’d caught him at a sex-fest party?

“I’ll ask you one more time, Atlee. Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry, does me doing my job screw up your plans of finding a beautiful blonde to fuck?”

Something flashed in his eyes but it was gone in an instant.

“I don’t fuck blondes,” he ground out.

“Well, luckily for you there are a plethora of brunettes and red heads to choose from. Though I’m not sure if all the red heads are natural. There could be a blonde lurking under the dye.”

Suddenly Wilson tagged my hand and was forcefully dragging me through the living area.

“Wil—”

“Quiet.”

He made it to the foyer. I tugged my hand trying to get free. His grip tightened and he pulled me into a linen closet that was the size of my bedroom. Wilson glanced around the shelves of white towels, bed sheets, extra pillows, and down comforters, all of them pressed and neatly folded.

Faster than should’ve been possible Wilson was on me. His strong arms banded around me like a steel trap. One of his hands glided up my back and hooked around the back of my neck. I was instantly back in Idaho, remembering all the delicious ways he tormented me. How good his hands felt when they roamed my bare skin—and it had all started with his long fingers digging into the back of my neck.

His head lowered but instead of kissing me his mouth went to my ear. His breath came in fast, furious puffs fanning over my skin.

“Listen closely,” he whisper-growled. “I’m not here to fuck a blonde, a brunette, or a red head. Unless that brunette is you. And as much as I’d like to thrust my dick inside of you to remind you who the fuck you’re talking to it seems we’re both working.”

Working?

“Wil—”

“Princess, shut it.”

I stiffened, not liking to be told to shut up or any variation of the demand.

“I’m pissed as fuck you think so little of me you think I’d stick my dick into trash pussy. But more that I’d have to stoop so fucking low I’d need to pay for that shit.”

“Pay for it?” I whispered back.

“Baby, every woman out there is for rent and depending on how much money you have, for sale.”

“What?”

For rent? Martin hadn’t asked me to fill his villa with strippers or call girls. Wilson had it wrong. This was Vegas, women were gagging to be invited to parties such as this for the opportunity of snagging a rich guy who’d treat her like shit, cheat on her, but would keep her in a beautiful house and buy her whatever she wanted as long as she knew her place. I’d seen it hundreds of times. Same party, different rich man hosting.

“That’s not what’s happening here,” I argued.

“You’re wrong, Atlee. That’s exactly what’s happening.”

What did he know that I didn’t? He said he was here working…from what I understood Takeback was involved in rescuing sex trafficking victims.

Victims.

Were the women here…

No.

No way. Martin was just another scumbag who got off throwing his money around, surrounding himself with desperate women who would do anything to sink their claws into a billionaire.

“I see it’s all coming together,” Wilson rumbled.

He was wrong, it wasn’t.

“We’re going to walk out of this closet and I’m gonna hope that fucker didn’t see me dragging you in here. Then you’re going to strut your fine ass out of this villa without looking around and be careful getting home. When I leave here I’m going to call you. If you don’t answer you’ll find me at your front door.”

I didn’t need to ask how he knew where I lived, just like I hadn’t asked how he’d gotten my phone number. Wilson McCray seemed to know all.

Since I was leaving before Wilson had spotted me, there was no sense in arguing. I wanted to leave before the actual sex started on all the flat surfaces. Last night I’d gotten an eyeful, I didn’t need another.

“Fine,” I snapped.

“Good girl,” he practically purred.

I rolled my eyes but my traitorous nipples pebbled.

Wilson stepped back but not before he brushed his lips over my cheek.

Damn him.

“Ready?” he asked.

He was making a bigger deal out of this than he needed to. Martin was occupied with the blonde and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t care if I’d been dragged into a closet by one of his guests and fucked within an inch of my life. Hell, he’d probably encourage it and tip me for keeping his visitor happy.

And to think this was the job I’d worked my ass off to get.

Maybe my father was right.

I shook that thought off as quickly as it had entered my head. Not all of my VIPs were slimy like Martin.

“Ready.”

Wilson opened the door, waited for me to precede him. I went directly to the front door and slipped out into the smaller lobby. I pressed the elevator call and the doors immediately opened. Once inside I pressed my key card to the panel and hit the button for the garage.

On the long ride down, my mind whirled.

Wilson had to be overreacting. Martin Jackson was nothing more than a sleazy guy who made himself feel important by surrounding himself with rich men and beautiful women.

But there was this small nagging voice in the back of my mind that I couldn’t get rid of. Some of those women were young, very young, and not all of them spoke English well.

What if Wilson was right and Martin was into more than loose women? And that innocent-looking blonde had caught his attention immediately. She didn’t belong in the den of debauchery. Was that why Wilson had been watching her, because he saw it, too? That poor woman was going to get chewed up and spit out or worse—hurt.

Damn.

I needed to warn Wilson and ask him to get her out of there.

I pulled out my phone and found his contact.

He answered on the second ring.

“What’s wrong?”

“That blonde—”

“It’s under control.”

Okay, that was good.

“Okay.”

“I’ll call you when I’m done,” he reminded me.

My stomach did a weird somersault that had nothing to do with him calling me later.

“Princess?” he growled.

“Yeah?”

“It’s gonna make me seriously fucking angry if we have to have this discussion again.”

Damn him for reading my mind.

“So be angry,” I snapped. “It’s not me settling in for a night with naked men walking around looking to fuck me.”

“That just earned you a spanking.”

No, it earned me a thrill of excitement at the thought of Wilson’s hand on my ass.

“Whatever.”

I disconnected and scanned the parking garage.

Double damn him for making me paranoid.