Call My Bluff: A Las Vegas Themed Anthology

by Elizabeth Knox

  “Good evening, sir,” a bellhop says, opening the door for me.

  I take a hesitant step inside and give him a nod. My boots echo down the marble flooring causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I don’t know why, but I’m freaking out a little. Maybe it’s because the trip I was just on wasn’t the most pleasant of adventures and I’m in desperate need of a shower.

  I walk down the marble hallway and the sounds of slot machines ring in my ears the further I go. The incessant ringing of bells and people cheering set my teeth on edge. A security guard spots me and approaches.

  “Can I help you with something?” He rests his hand on the taser strapped to his side as he sizes me up.

  “I have a reservation,” I gruffly reply, not taking my eyes off him.

  “Down that hall,” he points to his left. I don’t reply and continue to walk, scanning my surroundings. I know I’m a well-built guy but his attitude pissed me off. I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m here for work and if this is the welcome I’m going to get, they can all fuck off.

  I reach the counter where a woman with long dark hair stands, watching me approach her. Her gaze travels from my toes up to my face and back down again. She blushes and her pearly white teeth flash a flirty smile.

  “Reservation for Bryant,” I say when I reach the counter. I set my duffle bag down next to my feet. She’s still staring at me with a look of lust in her brown eyes. I pull my wallet out of my front pocket and wait until she’s done ogling me. I roll my eyes and huff out a breath of annoyance. What the fuck did Jeff get me into? I knock on the oak counter, making her jump.

  “Reservation for Bryant, please.” I grit out through clenched teeth. I’m tired, hungry and want to get up to my room as soon as I can.

  “Yes, Mr. Bryant. May I see some form of ID, please,” she bats her long dark lashes and peers up at me through them. I hand her my ID and look around while she types on the computer. The set-up is pretty nice in here. Kind of old school meets new with the marble floors, a large seating area with a warm fireplace to the left, another set of glass doors and floor to ceiling windows behind that, leading outside to the Vegas strip. To my right is a set of gold polished elevators and a wide set of stairs made of marble.

  I shift my eyes to the clicking of high heels against the marble floor. A woman with long brown curly hair that flows past her waist steps into view and catches my attention. She has on a tight black skirt that wraps around her slim waist and gives her tanned legs a long, lean look and a baby blue top that hugs her full set of tits. She’s talking to a man dressed in a black suit, moving her hands in a rapid pace. I can’t see her face but if that tight body is any indication, I’m sure the face matches. She's the first woman I’ve seen since I started on this journey that has my cock tightening in my jeans.

  “Here you are, Mr. Bryant. You’re all set in the executive suite, top floor.” The woman behind the counter hands me a key card and my ID. “Take the elevators to the floor labeled ES and if there’s anything I can do for you, my name’s Jasmine.” I take my card and ID from her slender fingers and grab my bag.

  “Thanks, Jasmine, I appreciate it,” I give her a wink and a smile. No point in pissing off the wrong people here. She giggles and her face burns bright red. I throw my duffle bag over my shoulder and saunter to the elevators. Pushing the button, I discreetly look around and catch the brunette from earlier watching me. Damn, she’s fucking hot with the complete package. She quickly turns her head away and acts like she’s looking at something else. I smirk in the reflective glass. The elevator opens up and I step inside, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. Turning around, I push the button labeled ES. As the doors close, I look up and see her staring at me again. Her clear blue eyes mesmerize me and I keep eye contact with her until the doors close.

  The elevator swiftly climbs to the top, not stopping on any other floor. My stomach lurches from the quick ascend. Soft elevator music drifts around, relaxing me. I look around at the intricate detailing. The top of the elevator has gold-trimmed arches, there are mirrors all around me and the carpet is soft under my heavy boots. My mind wanders back to the leggy brunette downstairs and the possibilities I could do with her in this very elevator. The ding signals I’ve reached my room, ending my fantasy of fucking her against the mirror as her hot breath steams up the glass.

  I adjust my aching dick and step out. The doors swiftly close behind me and I walk down a well-decorated hallway until I reach the room that matches my key card. I slide it through the box and it flashes green. I open the door and almost stumble in shock. How in the fuck did Jeff pull this off? It’s not like most hotels I’ve had to stay at. This place is bigger than my apartment back home. The sheer curtains are pulled back, giving the living room a soft glow that oversees the Strip. Lights from other hotels and casinos filter in, leaving me stunned. I step inside and the door closes behind me. I walk down the soft carpeted hallway to get a better look. The room opens up to a living room with a fireplace and an oriental rug placed in front of it, a sixty-five-inch T.V. above the fireplace. A black leather couch and chairs surround the fireplace. Off to the left is a small kitchen and island with a stainless-steel refrigerator, stove, dark oak cupboards and microwave. To the right is a closed double door that leads into the bedroom. I head to the closed doors and open them.

  Inside is a king-size four-poster bed that sits four feet off the floor made of solid oak. The headboard has the same design I’ve seen throughout the hotel. There is a huge armoire against one wall. I set my bag on the bed and open another door that leads to an en-suite bathroom. The black and white marble tiles and jungle style shower has me peeling my dirty clothes off, chucking my boots off and heading right into a slice of heaven.

  I turn the shower on and wait for the water to warm up. The water cascades down the marble tiles creating a steaming waterfall. I step inside and wash the grime of the past few days away. My mind drifts back to the leggy brunette in the hotel foyer. What is it about this woman that has me tied up in knots? Usually, I’m a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy. The ring bunnies swarm me before and after a fight and there’s no better way to release the pent-up adrenaline than to fuck hard and fast without even knowing their name or caring.

  But for some unexplained reason, the image of that woman has me grasping my shaft and tugging hard as the water cascades down my muscled back. My fingers wrap around the base and I move my hand up and down at a rapid pace. I picture her plump red lips wrapping around my cock and taking me in her hot, wet mouth. She’d make a gagging noise as the head of my cock hits the back of her throat. She’s looking up at me through her lashes, her sparkling blue eyes light up my body and I come hard.

  Once I come down from that fantasy, I finish washing my body and hair, turn the water off and step out. My bare feet hit the warm tiles and I dry myself off. My phone rings and I yank it out of my jeans left haphazardly on the floor.

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  “Spence, my man. My champ. How are you liking the accommodations?” Jeff says on the other end.

  “Bro, I don’t know how you managed to pull this off, but this room is fucking awesome.”

  “You can thank the owner of the hotel for that one. They love your style and your determination to win. You’re going to bring them in a lot of money.” Jeff responds. A giggle in the background has him distracted when he comes back on, “Hey listen, I’ve got to go. I just wanted to check in with my man and make sure you made it.”

  “Yeah, man. I’m here. I’m going to take a nap then wander. Thanks for this bro, I wouldn’t be here without you.”

  “Just kick some ass in the next few fights,” I can hear girls talking in the background and cards being shuffled. “Talk to you soon, Champ.” Jeff hangs up the phone before I can say anything else. I shake my head and wrap the towel around my waist. Grabbing my dirty clothes off the floor, I open the bathroom door and step into the bedroom. I dump my clothes in the corner of the room and
open my bag. My body is screaming at me to rest. I slide on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and climb into the soft bed. Sleep takes hold and I drift off with images of the leggy brunette with captivating blue eyes I can’t get out of my head. I need to find out who she is and why she’s on my mind.

  Chapter Two

  Kyanna

  Keith is getting on my nerves. I understand he’s my bodyguard and all, but sometimes he shows up at inappropriate times and it pisses me off. He needs to have a refresher on his boundaries. It’s not the first time he’s shown up in my room while I was indisposed. I’ve spoken to my father about it, but all my father says is, it’s his job to keep me safe.

  Well, fuck that. I’m done with him meddling in my personal life. I can’t even have a personal life because of Keith. Tonight, when I was in the lobby of my hotel, I saw a man who was hot as hell and all I want is to relieve some stress. He was staring at me like he could take me for a ride, when Keith had to step in and demand to know who the hell he was, staring at me like I was his next meal. Maybe I wanted to be his next meal. The guy didn’t even have the balls to stand up for himself and he left, ruining my fantasy. I just want a guy who can hold his own and give me what I need. A man who will let no one run him off.

  I know I’m an attractive woman and I’m not self-centered about it. I put hours in at the gym, training to defend myself against any harm. I don’t need to have Keith around, but my father insists. And with his health issues, I comply. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer and when the doctors gave him the news there was no cure, he went to the lawyers and had his entire life handed over to me. I still give him the courtesy of running certain things, but he leaves most of the decisions up to me. I’m not ready to lose my father yet.

  This is why I’m sitting at the bar of my casino nursing a drink the bartender slid my way. He offered me a wink and went back to serving the patrons. I turn around and take in the scenery before me. My whole life is wrapped in this place. I grew up in this hotel with my father and he taught me the ropes of the business. When to hold and when to fold. When I went to him with my idea of holding an MMA fight night, he wasn’t too happy about it. But he told me that if this is the direction I want to go in, he will support me on it.

  After months of searching for the right fighters, I came across a YouTube video of an MMA fighter in Michigan. His style is clean and there was something about his persona that attracted me to him. I called his trainer and he immediately agreed. Said Spencer Bryant will be out in a few days to get a feel of the area and he’ll make this place a lot of money. I check the time on my watch and see he’s due to arrive any minute.

  I slide off the barstool and come face to face with Keith. “What are you doing?” Keith asks.

  Keith is an attractive man, but he isn’t my type. His black hair is buzzed tight against his head in a high and tight. His well-defined muscles are hidden underneath his perfectly pressed suit. His brown eyes rake over my body, setting my teeth on edge.

  “If it’s any of your business, which it’s not, I was heading off to find our new fighter. See if he’s made it here yet.” I push past him into the hallway. My heels click off the marble tile.

  “It is my business. I’m your bodyguard. I need to know where you are at all times,” Keith grabs my arm and turns me to face him. I look at his hand wrapped around my bicep and glare at him.

  “I suggest you remove your hand if you want to keep it,” I growl. He releases his hold and I continue to walk with Keith hot on my heels. “Don’t ever and I mean ever touch me again.”

  We reach the lobby when I turn to face him. Keith stumbles to a halt almost slamming into me. “I’m not sure where you think you have the right to interfere with my personal life. You don’t. You are hired to protect me and protect the business.”

  “Kyanna, listen.” The warning in his voice should be enough for me to shut my mouth, but I’m done with him controlling me. I’m done with him coming into my personal space. I’m done with him putting his hands on me.

  “No, you listen, Keith,” I fling my hands up in the air, moving them at a rapid pace. “My personal business is not yours. What I want to do and who I want to do it with doesn’t concern you. As soon as you figure that out the better off you’ll be.” I look around the hotel lobby hoping no one is listening.

  A man is at the counter with Jasmine. His back to me, wearing a pair of tight jeans that hug his ass. He bends down to pick up his bag and I turn my head before he sees me. Keith follows my line of sight and heaves a heavy sigh.

  “Your fighter’s here,” Keith turns on his heels and walks away, giving me space. He knows if he keeps it up, I will de-man him.

  Turning my attention to the man standing at the counter, a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach takes flight. This is the highly sought-after fighter. I slowly rake my eyes down his body and back up again. He’s a good-looking fighter, with inky hair long on the top and buzzed close to his head on the sides, a few day-old scruff, and muscle upon muscle under his straining t-shirt and jeans. Spencer gives Jasmine a smile that makes my panties melt and he wasn’t even directing it at me. He hefts his bag over his shoulder, his muscles flexing as he struts to the elevator. I watch as Spencer presses the button and steps inside. He turns around and our gazes lock. His deep green eyes hold me captive as the doors slide close and cut off the connection we had.

  What the hell is wrong with me? This is ridiculous. I don’t get involved with clients and I sure as hell don’t get involved with MMA fighters. I’ve seen the ring bunnies ready to pounce before and after a fight and I sure as hell will not join their statistics.

  I turn on my heels and make my way back to the casino. The slot machines ring the closer I get. I stand at the edge, watching my world before me. This is where I belong. This is who I am. I’m not a teenager anymore with hormones racing through my system. I’m not some floozy who throws herself at any man who gives her attention. I need to get my head on straight and back into the business before it all folds in front of me and I can’t do anything to stop it.

  I don’t say a word to anyone as I make my way back to the elevators and push the button to take me home, to my penthouse suite. I need to get away and reset. It’s been a long and late night and I didn’t even get to greet our guest. I’ll have to find him for breakfast tomorrow and give him the Vegas welcome.

  The elevator doors slide open into my penthouse suite. I step off, click the button to secure my room and I kick off my shoes. Thankfully, Keith didn’t follow me up here. I don’t want to deal with him anymore tonight. I unzip the side of my skirt and let it flutter to the ground before I even get into the living room. My blouse is next as I slide the fabric over my skin and let it fall to the floor, next to my skirt. In only my silk bra and panties, I step up to the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the Vegas Strip. No matter how many times I see this, it still leaves me breathless. The view is spectacular and I wouldn’t want it ever taken away from me.

  I rest my palm against the cool glass and lean my forehead against it. I let my thoughts overtake me. Sometimes that helps to put things into perspective. Soon enough I’ll be without a father. It’ll just be me all alone in my world. No one to confide in, no one I can trust to talk too. No one to look at me with pride in their eyes. Maybe that’s why I’ve been acting so weird lately. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen when my dad is gone.

  A tear escapes and trails down my cheek, followed by another one and one after that. Before I know it, I’m crying for things I cannot change. Things I cannot fix. Things I cannot take back. After a few moments of insanity, I straighten my spine and set my resolve. Staring out onto the Vegas Strip, I vow to myself I will let nothing break me. I won’t let these little moments define me. I will come out of this stronger than I was before and I’ll show everyone who ever doubted me my entire life that I can do this. I will turn Jade Hotel and Casino into a highly sought-after MMA fight club. I will succeed in turning my dreams into reality. And more i
mportantly, I will do it before my father passes away.

  Chapter Three

  Kyanna

  Sweat beads off my brow as I push my body to its limit. The hard whack of leather against leather pounds in my ears. I raise my wobbly arms and strike again. My muscles are beyond the point of exhaustion, but I can’t bring myself away from the swaying bag and rest.

  After my mini breakdown last night, I showered and changed for bed. I laid down but couldn’t sleep. So, I got up, made a pot of coffee and when the time read four a.m., I changed into my workout clothes, threw my long, dark locks into a high ponytail and headed down to the hotel gym. I’ve been here for God knows how long, working on my boxing skills. Since I was a little girl and my father took me to watch a woman’s boxing match, I’ve always wanted to do it. But being the princess of Jade Hotels, it never took into fruition.

  I swing with my left arm and punch the bag with a solid uppercut. God, this feels good. Hitting something without repercussions. I imagine the punching bag is Keith and I take out all my aggression on it. Punch after punch, kick after kick until I can’t move my arms and sweat is pouring off me.

  “Wow remind me not to piss you off,” a deep voice floats from the other side of the bag.

  My taped hands freeze wiping the sweat off my forehead and butterflies take flight in my stomach. I peer around the bag and inhale a sharp breath. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Spencer Bryant is standing in front of me, looking me up and down. He’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts, a white sleeveless t-shirt showing off his tribal tattoo on his right bicep and shoulder, leading into more under his shirt. His dark hair is pushed back and a few day-old stubble hides his strong jawline. His nose is slightly crooked but adds to the bad boy character he has going on.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I ask breathlessly and push my dark locks out of my face.