Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

SEVEN

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

I should be feeling better, but instead, I feel ten times worse as I trudge down into the casino—alone, because Caleb, Vortex, and Havoc are all working. It’s not late enough in the day for the drag queens to be here yet, and even if they were, I haven’t gotten permission from Caleb to visit them yet.

Besides, Linda will be there, and I don’t trust her.

Maybe I can talk Vortex into bringing me back tonight. Maybe that would ease some of this mood… but I don’t want to see him. Not after how thoroughly he rejected me after pushing and pushing and learning more about me than I’d wanted to tell him.

I’m sure he’s told Caleb by now, but Caleb hasn’t asked me anything.

Yet.

I walk to the blackjack table, steeling myself for more of the same torture that I get every time I get there. The dealers recognize me by now, and when there aren’t any others at the table, they even engage in conversation with me around my near-constant losses.

“Honey,” Madeline says as I plant my ass in the chair closest to her, “Maybe you should try a different game. Blackjack just might not be for you.”

I roll my eyes. “Do you tell that to all the patrons, or just the ones wasting your boss’s money?” I ask her, my voice more tart than I meant it to be.

She doesn’t seem bothered, though. Her customer service skills are epic, as I’ve seen on more than one occasion, and I doubt my slight irritability even registers with her. “I just mean that maybe you’d have more fun playing something else.”

“I’m not here for the fun. I’m here for the big bucks,” I drawl.

Madeline snorts. “Yeah. The big money you’re making every time you lose to the house.”

I go to make a retort, but a big man in an ill-fitting suit joins me at the table. He sits on the opposite side, glowering at me like I’m there to make his life difficult.

Madeline deals the cards like the professional she is after taking our bets. As usual, I go bust, and I sigh as I put more chips into the pot. She gives me an “I told you so” look, but I only meet her stare with one of my own.

“You dealt wrong,” the surly guy suddenly says.

Madeline turns her attention to him. “Excuse me, sir?”

The guy points at the deck of cards. “I saw you. You were cheating. Changing the order of the cards. Because you knew what was coming, right?”

Madeline keeps smiling, but I notice the crease in her brows. “I can assure you, sir, I didn’t manipulate the cards.” She turns the cards she’s holding over to show him. “See? None of these would have let either of you win.”

The guy’s face gets redder. “No way. The entire deck is rigged. The eight of spades was already played.”

“Sir, there are six decks in play,” Madeline says professionally. “There will always be repeated cards.”

Six decks? No wonder it was so hard to predict whether to keep playing or not. I know Havoc taught me how to calculate the odds even with higher deck counts, but I don’t remember the exact math anymore.

“The Roi de Pique has never used six decks before,” the man replies, slamming his glass down on the edge of the table. “Is that a new policy?”

“No, sir,” Madeline replies.

“How would you know?” he retorts. “You’re brand new, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been working here for four years, sir,” she says, her tone still perfectly polite—even friendly—despite his hostility.

I look around for one of the security staff—hell, I’m even hoping Vortex is nearby—but the only employee I see who isn’t already occupied is Caleb’s right-hand man. Grant is heading in our direction already, and I’m not sure whether Madeline has somehow called for him or if it’s just this guy’s lucky day.

It’s definitely not mine.

I sip on my soda, the raised voices getting my hackles up. Thankfully Grant arrives, and the surly guy stops yelling at Madeline.

“What seems to be the issue, sir?” Grant asks. He’s smiling, but there’s something off about the smile.

It sends a chill through me, and I toy with my soda glass, running my finger around the rim as I fidget.

“This fucking bitch was cheating,” the man says, pointing at Madeline.

I notice Madeline rolling her eyes. “It’s blackjack, sir. The house doesn’t need to cheat for people to lose.”

They won’t even cheat to make sure Caleb’s pet wins against the house, so I know that far too well.

Grant nods along. “Of course. I’m sure it’s all been a misunderstanding. But if you’re truly concerned about the integrity of our dealers, might I suggest the Palacio Diamante or the Red Heart?”

The surly man stiffens, and apparently he didn’t consider the possibility that the staff wasn’t going to give him his way.

“You should fire this bitch,” the guy mutters. “She’s playing with six fucking decks.”

Grant’s smile gets even more brittle. “Perhaps the other casinos in the area play with fewer.”

I look between the three of them, shaking my head.

The asshole looks at me, demanding, “You have an opinion?”

“I have plenty of opinions,” I retort. “Like the fact that you’re a dick who needs to stop harassing people while they’re trying to work.”

I catch Madeline’s wince, and the surly man’s expression turns darker.

“Yeah? You want to say that to my fist, you little shitstain?” he says, taking a threatening step toward me.

Grant steps between me and the man. “Sir, if you get violent, we will be forced to call the authorities on you.”

That threat finally gets through to the man. He curses and flips us off. “Fuck all of you. I’m going to tell everyone that the Roi de Pique cheats.”

Then he storms off, and I can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” Madeline says to Grant.

Grant turns to her, and that smile from earlier is completely gone. “What the fuck, Maddy? You told a fucking guest how many decks we use? I should fire you just for that.”

“I’m sorry, Grant,” she says, using that professional customer service voice with him. “It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t,” Grant snaps at her. “Forget blackjack. I’m putting you back on drinks service. For the slot machine guests.”

Madeline’s mouth parts in shock. “What? I’m a dealer. A good dealer. I don’t do drinks.”

Grant sneers at her. “You will if you want to keep your job at all. You can’t even fucking appease an angry guest. You’re useless at the tables.”

“She’s not useless,” I interject. “He was just an asshole.” I glance at Madeline. There’s so much more I want to say, but she gives a silent shake of her head that only has me more furious. I grit my teeth, trying not to say what I’m thinking.

It’s fine. I’ll just tell Caleb later and get her back on the tables.

Grant turns to me now. “Who the fuck asked you? What are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be locked up in Caleb’s bedroom?”

My cheeks flush, and I resist the urge to look at Madeline. “No,” I snap. “I’m his boyfriend, not his fucking slave.”

Well.

That’s not true at all, but he doesn’t need to know that—or tell anyone else what I really am.

“Maybe he should gag you, then,” Grant says. “Go suck somebody’s cock. That’ll be more useful than running your mouth here.”

“You’re just jealous because I won’t suck yours,” I retort.

Madeline is looking between the two of us like she desperately wants to be anywhere but here. I don’t blame her one bit, but I’m not backing down.

Grant makes a disgusted face. “I wouldn’t want a whore like you anywhere near me. You’re lucky Caleb has no standards.”

“If he didn’t have any standards, he’d be fucking someone like you,” I snap back at him. “It’s hard to believe he lets you run around this place without a chaperone with how shitty you are at customer service.”

“How shitty I am?” Grant slams his hands onto the blackjack table. “I had him ready to leave when you fucking opened your mouth. I should have let him beat you up before kicking him out.”

My heart thunders in my ears as I sass him despite how terrifying it is. “And now you’re scaring off all these patrons because you’re throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the floor.”

Grant’s expression turns even darker as he casts a quick glance around us to see the curious-looking patrons who are gawking, and I brace myself for whatever he wants to do to me.

“Hey, everything all right over here?” Vortex's voice cuts through.

I gasp and sit straighter. Grant’s expression smooths over.

“Vortex. I think it’s about time Caleb’s boyfriend here was escorted back to his rooms,” Grant says, voice still brittle.

Madeline looks like she’s about to speak, but one sharp look from Grant has her shutting her mouth again.

“Fine,” I say. “But guess what? I’m gonna tattle to my boyfriend about all of this.”

Vortex groans, rubbing his temples. “Okay. Let’s just… C’mon, Seven. Let’s go upstairs. Grant can talk to Caleb like we’re all adults, and you can chill out with some TV or something.”

I don’t want to go upstairs and watch TV alone with my thoughts. Under my shirt, my scratches are itchy, and the urge to claw at them again is nearly impossible to ignore.

Vortex puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me towards the hotel. I bite my lip so I don’t say anything stupid.

“Hey! Seven! Wait up!” Madeline’s voice calls out.

Vortex stops and lets Madeline catch up to us. She smiles at us.

“I wanted to say thank you for standing up for me,” Madeline says. She glances at Vortex. “Why don’t we all grab drinks in the hotel private lounge?”

Vortex’s brows furrow, and at first, I think he’s going to say no. But he glances at me, then nods. “Yeah. I think that would be a good idea.”

It’s good to know that his promise to get me around more people wasn’t an empty one. He probably has a lot to do, but then, I don’t know what he’s expected to do when it comes to wrangling me .

Like Havoc, he probably has free rein to slack a little in his other duties to… take care of me.

I touch the scarf around my throat, thinking about how it had felt to be pushed under the water. It had been nice at first, until…

Until I’d thought Havoc was never going to let me up.

Then it had felt like familiar despair.

I realize Vortex and Madeline are waiting for me, and I nod. “I’d like that.”

The three of us head up to the lounge, and I’m startled when Madeline leads us straight to a large patio door. I gasp when we walk out to a large balcony space, with fresh air hitting my skin.

We’re five floors up, and I can see all the way down the main street from here. It’s still early afternoon, so none of the lights are on yet, but the signs and building make it clear what the place would look like all lit up at night.

“It’s nice up here,” I say.

Vortex releases me, and I go straight to the edge of the balcony.

I wonder what it would be like to fall from this height. Less terrifying than Caleb’s balcony, maybe, because I wouldn’t have to fall as far.

The thought makes me shiver, and I turn around to face Vortex and Madeline. He looks worried, whereas she just looks thoughtful. “Sorry,” I say. “I just had to see the view. I bet it looks amazing at night.”

“You haven’t seen it at night yet?” Madeline asks, unable to hide her curiosity.

I shake my head. “Not from up close. Looking out Caleb’s window just isn’t the same.”

“Caleb has a private table. Over there,” she points at a corner of the balcony that’s cordoned off.

I look at Vortex, then grin. “Well, if it’s Caleb’s table, it’s basically my table too, right? Let’s go sit there.”

Vortex shrugs. I wonder if he’d seen something in the look on my face, because he wraps an arm around my waist and escorts me over without seeming to give a fuck who can see.

Maybe I’d have welcomed the casual touch the night of the date, but now? I just don’t know what to think of it.

I let him help me into a chair.

“What do you want?” he asks, glancing between Madeline and me.

“Rum and coke?” I say hopefully.

“One,” Vortex says, his voice firm.

“Are you going to take my keys, too?” I ask him.

He shakes his head, then looks at Madeline.

“A margarita, please,” she answers. Vortex goes to the bar, leaving me alone with Madeline.

“I really will talk to Caleb,” I say. “I know it’ll probably put you on Grant’s shit list, but you’re already there. So…” I shrug. “Has to be better than being on his shit list and serving drinks to the drunks on the slots.”

Madeline laughs. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She glances past me at Vortex, then leans in closer, “Grant’s an asshole. Everybody on staff knows it. He manages to be nice to the customers, but he fucking power trips with us.”

“He didn’t even seem good with that particular customer,” I remark. “And he was definitely quick to act like a five-year- old with me.” Smirking, I add, “Maybe I just have that effect on people.”

“He doesn’t like Caleb,” Madeline says in a near whisper. “Um, don’t tell Caleb I told you that, okay? I don’t want to be the one passing rumors on to the boss.”

“Caleb probably already knows,” I say. “I just don’t know why he keeps Grant around. He doesn’t seem like a prize.” I know I’m prodding for information, but it’s not like I can just ask Vortex. He respects Caleb too much to spread gossip.

“Grant’s been here longer than Caleb,” Madeline says. “Caleb got the casino like… five, six years ago? Grant’s been here for ages though. Used to be the man in charge back when Caleb’s uncle owned the place. Caleb shook things up, which is why Grant’s got a bug up his ass about it.” Madeline pauses, then adds, “Or so the old timers tell me. You’d have to ask Linda for the full gossip.”

Linda.

I fight the urge to shudder when I think about her. She’d seemed nosy and overbearing, and I hadn’t wanted to be around her. That’s the only problem with wanting to see Della Mortay again and meet the others. I’ll have to go through her.

I don’t know why she stirred such strong feelings inside of me.

No, that’s not true. I know exactly why, and that thought does make me shiver in discomfort.

It’s okay, baby.

Vortex returns with our drinks and sets them down in front of us. I take a sip and scowl at it.

“This is more coke than rum,” I say.

“Yep,” Vortex agrees. He takes a swig of his beer. “Madeline, how’s the wife? Pregnancy going well?”

Madeline smiles brightly. “Oh, she’s doing great! On her second trimester now. We picked out decor for the nursery.” She pulls out her phone and tabs over to some photos of a pregnant Latina woman. “It feels unreal, y’know? We’re going to be moms soon.”

My mouth goes dry, and I take a long sip of my drink as I try to combat my instant, visceral reaction to the idea that this woman is going to be responsible for a baby. It’s nothing against Madeline, who seems nice and friendly, but…

So does she .

I swallow hard, staring over the balcony railing as she and Vortex continue to chat.

Maybe I really should throw myself over the edge. No one would see it coming. No one would be able to stop me.

Caleb would never be able to threaten to bring me to the authorities again.

“Seven?” Vortex touches my arm, frowning. “You still with us?”

My attention snaps back to the present, and I look between them. Painting a fake smile onto my lips, I nod. “Sorry. Mind wandered a little. Your wife is very pretty, Madeline.”

From the uncomfortable look she gives me, I have a feeling they’d started to talk about something else while I’d been zoned out. Well, fuck.

The phone screen is no longer on a picture of a woman, but rather a mostly empty room with green walls.

Pale green, not forest green, but it still makes me flinch.

I fucking hate the color green.

“We went with green because it’s more gender neutral,” Madeline explains. “But my mother-in-law started complaining that it’s not a good color for a nursery.” There’s an expectation in her voice.

She wants me to say something, and I don’t know what the right answer is.

My neck prickles and my mouth goes dry. I glance at Vortex, trying to figure it out, but his expression doesn’t give me any ideas. Fuck.

“It’s very gender neutral,” I say. “It’s pretty.”

She wants validation, right? She wants to know that it’s a good color, a happy color, for her child to grow up with.

Except it’s not.

Not for me.

“Do you know the sex of the baby yet?” Vortex asks her, smoothly interjecting himself into the conversation.

My panic must be written all across my face.

“No,” Madeline says, shaking her head. She looks concerned, and she reaches out like she’s going to touch my hand.

I snatch it away so fast that her expression turns even more worried. “Sorry,” I say, but I know I don’t sound sorry. I force myself to smile. “Caught me off guard.” My voice trembles, and despite how my body is screaming at me, I force my hand back within reach.

Madeline sits back and doesn’t reach for me again. “We’ve been tossing names around. Her mother wants something traditional, like Maria or Jose, but we’d prefer something gender neutral. Taylor, or Bailey. Maybe Ro?—”

I get up and flee from them.

No baby names. No nurseries.

No green.

I rush through the lounge, jabbing the elevator button. When the elevator doesn’t immediately show up, I go for the stairwell and start running up.

I run and run, until I’m out of breath and collapse on the stairwell landing. I have no idea how many flights of stairs I climbed. My body is shaking from the exertion, and I wonder if I have enough energy to fling myself down the stairs too.

It’s tempting, so fucking tempting, and I’ve almost convinced myself to do just that when I hear footsteps—heavy footsteps that I recognize, footsteps that have no place in the stairwell.

I close my eyes and wait for Vortex to reach me.

“Hey,” he says, his voice quiet. He pulls me into his arms, and for some fucking reason I don’t understand, I let him. He rubs my back, and I bury my face against his chest even as I clench my hands into fists and resist the urge to shove him away. “Shh,” he murmurs. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

I wonder if he ever gets the urge to do things like throw himself off of balconies or down stairs. I doubt it.

Just fucked-up people like me do.

When I don’t say anything, he says, “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll run you a bath?—”

“No!” I say sharply, pulling back. “No. No baths. I don’t want…” I run a hand through my hair. “No. All right?”

“All right,” he agrees. He doesn’t even sound perturbed. “Then I can tuck you in and let you sleep.”

I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to have nightmares.

I shake my head again.

“No?” he asks. “Okay.” He holds out his arms again, but this time, I stay strong and don’t launch myself into them. “Then we can watch TV, or we can get something to eat. But we don’t need to do it here, do we?”

I hesitate. Here, I can hurt myself. Under his watch, somehow I doubt I could manage that. He wouldn’t even hurt me like Havoc does.

He takes my hand with surprising gentleness and tugs at it, pulling me toward the closest door. “You must be exhausted,” he says. He’s not even breathing heavily, something I resent.

Thankfully, the hallways are empty as we exit out of the stairwell. Vortex leads me to the elevator, and no one gets onto the elevator to go up. It’s quiet, and Vortex never releases my hand. It isn’t until we’re passing the guard posted at Caleb’s door that he starts to let go, but I don’t let him.

He stops trying after a few seconds, seeming to realize I have no intention of letting him leave me alone, and he ushers me toward the couch. “Do you want anything?”

It’s too hard to talk, so I keep shaking my head as he asks me questions.

I just don’t want to be here by myself.

Had Madeline been sent here by them ? Had they found me? She’d said she’d been here for four years, but that doesn’t mean anything.

People lie.

Hell, I lie all the time.

Vortex pulls me into his lap, and I rest my head against his muscular shoulder.

He holds me close, and I think that this isn’t so terrible as I slowly drift to sleep.