by Cassia Leo
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, you can’t quit on me.”
“But rule number two—”
“Fuck rule number two,” he replies forcefully. “If you’re quitting because you think I’m not safe around you, then you’re wrong. And if you’re quitting because you think you’re not safe around me, then you’re also wrong. I’m getting you a bodyguard.”
“No!” I reply, not bothering to whisper. “Nuh-uh. I don’t need a bodyguard. And even if I did need one, I don’t want one. That’s not a good way to keep from drawing attention to myself.”
“I don’t care whether you want one. You’re getting one. This is not optional.” The ferocity in his eyes is startlingly sexy. “You may not be my real fiancée, but right now you are my responsibility. And you obviously need someone to look out for you. So, you’re getting a bodyguard whether you like it or not. And you’re staying with me until you’re better.”
“No!” I shout even louder this time. “That is where I draw the line. And it’s not because I don’t want to. I can’t stay with you. I… I take care of someone…at home. I need to be home.”
He narrows his eyes at me and I wonder if he’s thinking I lied about being married. “Who do you take care of? Do you have a child?”
I chuckle at his guess. “No, I don’t have any children. I…”
Shit. I can’t tell him about my dad, then he’ll definitely look into him. If there’s any chance of keeping my father’s connection to him a secret, I’ll blow it by telling him my dad is sick. I mean, I told him I hurt my leg and the jerk snuck into my damn hospital room in the middle of the night. If I tell him my dad is sick, he’s liable to show up at my house with a fucking medical team.
“I take care of my dog, and he needs me. He’s… He’s with my friend right now, but she can’t keep him there long because…because he hates her cat. Just…hates him. They don’t get along. Just ruff-ruff-meow at each other all day. It drives my friend crazy.”
He smiles at my ridiculous explanation. “I’m going to forgive that lie because I think it’s related to whatever happened at your house today, and I suppose you’re allowed one secret. But you’re still getting a bodyguard.” His gaze wanders down to my chest, lingering there for a moment as he traces his finger lightly over the inside of my forearm. His eyes lock on mine again. “And when you’re ready, he’ll bring you to me for our next session. How long until you’re on your feet again?”
“Three days,” I reply quickly as I try to ignore the throbbing between my legs. “I’ll be back in three days, tops.”
He smiles at my eagerness as his fingertips land on the inside of my bicep, the backs of his fingers grazing my breast. “We have a lot to work on,” he murmurs as he gently presses his knuckles into my soft flesh.
I’m not wearing a bra, so the gentle pressure is more than enough to make my heart race. “I’ll be ready,” I whisper.
He eases his hand forward and stealthily slips it underneath the covers.
“Rule number three,” I breathe, my voice barely audible as his hand moves down to my belly.
“Rule number three says we can’t have sex,” he replies. “It says nothing about me watching you come.”
My chest heaves with anticipation as he slowly pulls my gown up until his hand is resting on my bare mound. “We can’t do this here.”
“Why?” His finger glides between my aching folds and easily finds my clit. “The door is closed,” he whispers as he slides into me all the way to his knuckle, curling his finger inside me. “And I think this is exactly what you need right now.” His thumb massages my tender clit as his middle finger firmly rouses my G-spot. “That’s it, sweetheart. Look at me.”
My legs twitch, sending a shooting pain slicing through the back of my thigh. “Oh, God. Please stop. It hurts.”
His hand stops moving, but he doesn’t remove it from inside me. “I’ll go slow,” he says as he slides his finger out of me and drags my moisture up to my clit.
His finger moves lightly over my hard nub. I close my eyes and lean my head back, but soon his free hand is under my neck and his face is inches from mine.
“Don’t turn away from me.” His voice is a low growl, deep and commanding, but his touch is still gentle as he coaxes me toward an orgasm. “You always look at me when you come. You understand?” His gaze doesn’t soften when I nod in reply. “I told you, in the bedroom I make the rules. When you’re with me, you submit. You have to understand that if you’re going to convince the board you’re my fiancée. Do you understand?” This time he smiles when I nod. “Good girl. Don’t come yet.”
“What?” I whisper, tightening the muscles in my abdomen to keep my legs from twitching and to stop the orgasm.
He slides his fingertip off my clit and begins lightly massaging my labia. “You come when I say you come.” His middle finger slides back inside me, lightly pressing on my G-spot until I start to whimper, then he pulls it out again. “When you’re out there living your life, you’re Kara. When you’re with me, you’re my fiancée. You’re mine. And I will do with you as I please. Understood?”
“Oh, God,” I breathe as he glides to two fingers through my swollen folds, lightly brushing my clit but never giving me full contact. “Yes, yes. I understand,” I reply desperately.
“Good,” he replies, easing his grip on the back of my neck as his other hand returns to my clit to finish me off. “Come for me.”
The orgasm builds slowly, a soft rumble escalating to a thunderous roar of pleasure exploding in my core and oozing outward into my muscles, making me warm and relaxed. I gush wetness all over his hand, but he doesn’t mind. He keeps his hand between my legs, his finger pressed lightly against my throbbing clit, as he cups my mound and waits for the orgasm to roll through me. The whole time, his gaze is locked on me, watching every nuance in my expression, relishing every twinge of pleasure.
“Do you feel better now?” he murmurs, and I nod. “Then I’ll see you in three days. I’ll send your bodyguard here to pick you up in the morning. He’ll take you home.” He slowly slides his hand out from beneath the covers and kisses my forehead before he stands up straight. “I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”
I nod with some difficulty as I suddenly feel very sleepy. “Okay,” I whisper.
He smiles as he backs away from my bedside. “Sweet dreams.”
Three days of lying in my bed with the new sheets that Suzy insisted on buying for me—to rid my bedroom of all reminders of the attack—and I am so ready to get out of the house to see Cash. He’s been texting me multiple times a day to check on me, and I must admit his messages have really kept my spirits up.
Like the time he texted me telling me how much I was missed, then he sent me a series of pictures of himself and Hector having a “date night.” The first picture showed Hector blushing as Cash pinned a corsage to his lapel. The second picture showed them holding hands in a movie theater that looked suspiciously like the media room in his penthouse. My favorite was the last picture of the evening, showing them lying in Cash’s bed with the sheet just barely covering their private parts while Cash smoked a cigarette.
Of course, Dex wasn’t in any of the pictures because Dex is my new bodyguard. Cash didn’t have time to interview anyone before I was released from the hospital three days ago, so he sent Dex to protect me. He claims he’ll be fine with just one bodyguard for the next few weeks, especially now that he’s almost a married man. All joking aside, I’m worried that he may be putting himself at risk for me.
I guess I should feel honored that he would do such a thing, but the truth is that I’m scared. If Benny finds out I’m involved with Cash, the same way he found out I’m working at the Billionaire Club, I highly doubt a single bodyguard will do much to stop him.
In the meantime, I’ve had Dex posted outside my house for the past three days because I can’t let him inside the house. He can’t know about my dad. He’s seen Jacie c
oming and going from the house, but he thinks she’s actually here for me. At least, that’s what I told him. I hope he believes me.
It’s almost ten p.m. and I’m supposed to go to Cash’s penthouse at midnight, but I haven’t heard from him since ten a.m. This is unusual considering he’s been texting me every two to three hours over the past few days. I’m trying not to imagine that something happened to him, but it’s hard not to worry.
Despite what the tabloids say about him, Cash is a good person. At least, I hope he is. I really don’t want to fall for him and end up with a broken heart. I don’t know if I could take anymore tragedy at this point in my life.
I’ve been getting up to shower and use the restroom at least three times a day, with a little help from Jacie. When I stand up all by myself to start getting ready to go to Cash’s, I’m surprised when the pain is not excruciating. If I grit my teeth, I’m able to walk to the bathroom with only a slight limp. But the moment I get there, I immediately lower the lid on the toilet so I can sit down.
I text Dex to tell him I’ll be coming out in a couple of hours, then I set about curling my hair and applying my makeup. When I come out to the living room to leave, both Jacie and my dad are fast asleep, Saturday Night Live playing on the TV with the sound muted. The moment I open the front door, Dex is standing right outside.
I fall over myself trying to get out of the house quickly so he can’t see my dad’s hospital bed in the living room. He catches me around the waist with one of his thick arms, so I don’t fall into the potted cactus on the front doorstep, and I yelp with surprise. I reach for the doorknob to pull it closed, but it’s too late. Dex’s dark eyes are locked on the hospital bed in the dimly lit living room.
I hastily push his arm off and pull the door softly shut. “Thank you,” I mutter, my gaze focused on the concrete pathway as I limp away from him toward the street, where his Mercedes is parked at the curb.
He hesitates for a moment before he catches up with me. “Let me help you,” he says, offering the crook of his elbow for me to grab onto.
Ignoring the searing pain in my hamstring, I continue down the driveway toward the curb without his help. He quickly opens the back door for me to get in, but I respond by opening the front passenger-side door for myself.
“I’d rather sit in the front, thanks,” I say, gingerly sliding into the front seat and looking away as he closes the door for me. Once we’re at least a half a mile away from my house, riding in silence down Flamingo Road, I take a deep breath and turn to him. “What you saw in there, Dex, that was—”
“You don’t have to explain to me.”
“But I want to explain it to you. It’s… My dad is very sick. So, yeah, I saw this bet as an opportunity to help him get better. But please don’t tell Cash.”
He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head. “You know I can’t keep something like that from him. Even if I tried, he’d get it out of me.” He flashes me a hard look as he comes to a stop at a red light. “And you can’t keep something like that from him either. Ain’t this whole thing so you two can get to know each other? You can’t know somebody if you’re keeping secrets from them.”
I turn away from him, too ashamed to admit he’s right. If I don’t tell Cash the truth, we’ll never get to know each other. And maybe we’ll still be able to fool the board of directors of Westbrook Oil, but maybe we won’t. And then what? I have to go back to working at Smith’s Gambling Hall for $50 in tips per night, if I’m lucky.
I have to tell him the truth.
“I’ll tell him,” I say, my gaze still focused out the window at the dazzling lights as we approach the Strip. “Thank you…for watching over us these past few days.”
Dex is silent for a while, but when I turn to him he’s smiling. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. He’s always been the serious one while Hector seems to be the one with the sense of humor.
When he turns onto Las Vegas Blvd., it dawns on me that if someone sees me with Dex, they might deduce that I’m going up to see Cash.
“We can’t valet the car,” I say. “Can’t you take me in through the parking garage or something?”
He smiles again. “Don’t worry. I’ll drop you off by the elevator in the parking garage, then I’ll park the car. You can go up without me, so we’re not seen together.”
“But what if someone sees you drop me off?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “At 12:21 in the morning? I highly doubt it. And if there’s anyone hanging out near the elevators, we’ll drive around till the coast is clear. I got this, okay?”
I nod as I check my phone for messages, but Cash still hasn’t texted me or called me. I know we agreed on this meeting days ago, and he’s mentioned it in passing multiple times, so I don’t think he’s forgotten. He’s probably just busy, trying to get other stuff done before I arrive.
The moment Dex turns into the entrance of the parking structure, another car is coming out and I quickly duck.
He chuckles as he continues driving. “Relax. They’re gone.”
I sit up straight and sling the strap of my purse diagonally across my chest, ready to make a break for the elevator as soon as he stops. Well, I can’t really “make a break” for it. More like limp carefully toward the elevator.
He stops the Mercedes right next to the silver doors. “See you inside,” he says, his smile gone. He’s all business now.
I open the door and immediately I’m blasted with a gust of hot, suffocating Vegas air. But the heat makes my muscles relax a bit, which I’m thankful for as I make my way toward the elevator. As soon as I press the call button, the elevator opens and a man with silver hair and a crisp navy-blue Oxford and khaki’s cocks an eyebrow at me as he exits.
“Do I know you?” he says in a deep, clear voice.
The man is handsome for an older gentleman, and I remember exactly where I’ve seen him: at the Billionaire Club four nights ago.
I shake my head as I enter the elevator. “Don’t think so,” I say, trying to keep my head down as I press my thumb to the fingerprint reader then hit the button for the penthouse level.
I pretend to fix my hair so I can hide my face as the doors close. When the elevator cab begins to rise, I sigh and raise my head, glancing over my shoulder at my reflection in the mirrored wall behind me. I look anxious.
Taking a few deep breaths, I thank God that no one else gets on the elevator on the way up. The doors open onto the penthouse level, but when I get to the fingerprint scanner at Cash’s door, it doesn’t open for me. But it just worked in the elevator. That doesn’t make sense.
I reach into my bag to get my cell phone, but the front door opens before I have the chance to dial. Cash steps out into the vestibule, closing the door behind him. The serious look on his face makes my stomach weak.
“What’s going on?” I ask, though I have a feeling I already know. Either Dex called him and told him about my father, or he found out through the background check.
“Your father is Kurt Langley.” He says this as a statement, not a question. “The same Kurt Langley whose team took The Mirage for $1.2 million dollars.” He takes a step toward me, his eyes trained on me as if I’m prey, but I don’t avert my gaze. “The same Kurt Langley who was fired from Union Oil eighteen months ago.”
“He wasn’t fired!” I correct him, my face flushing with heat. “He was laid off! They changed his employee record after they found out he was sick.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re not even going to try and deny it?”
I glare right back at him. “Why should I? My dad is the one who was screwed over by your company. He did nothing wrong.”
“Right. It’s just the big, mean corporate baddies who are always wrong, right? That’s why you here, isn’t it? You found out I was the one who ordered the layoffs and now you’re here to get your revenge? Well, it looks like your little plan failed.”
“You, what?” I reply, my heart racing as the reality of his
words hits me. “It was… It was you? You’re the one who laid him off? You’re the one who ruined our lives?”
He looks confused for a moment, then his expression hardens again. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know. That’s why you were here all along. You’re just like all the rest of them, trying to get close enough to get what you want. But you never wanted the money, did you? No, you wanted to make sure I got forced out of my job just like your dad.”
“Fuck you!” I shout. “I’m not one of those hundreds of girls you’ve fucked, and you’d better believe I wanted that money. I need that money to pay the hospital bills I’m drowning in ever since you let my dad go. But you don’t give a shit about that, do you?” I step forward so my face is inches from his. “Because you’re too fucking paranoid that someone’s going to burst your rich-boy bubble.”
He laughs in my face and I shove him hard in the chest, then I turn on my heel and begin to walk away. But I put too much pressure on my leg and almost fall. I manage to jut my arm out and lean my weight against the wall as I lift my bad leg up to ease the pressure. Probably out of instinct, he reaches out to help me, but I bat his hands away.
“Don’t touch me! I don’t need your help.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from the woman who’s been pretending to help me for the past few days.”
I hobble to the elevator and press the call button, but he’s still right behind me. “At least I don’t get off on ruining people’s lives.”
He laughs. “Oh, yes. You know me so well. I just love sitting in my hot tub, sipping champagne while planning how I’m going to destroy the lives of poor, unsuspecting people.”
“I’ll bet you do, fuckface.” The doors open and I stumble a little when I hop inside, and once again he tries to catch me. “I said don’t touch me, assclown!”
“Assclown?” He chuckles as I violently punch the button for the lobby level.
I flip him off as the doors begin to close and something about the puzzled look on his face makes my stomach clench. I lean back against the mirrored wall to ease the pressure off my leg as I try not to cry.
