Betting on the Billionaire in Lockdown

by Ivy Nelson

  Betting

  On The Billionaire

  In Lockdown

  Love Under Lockdown

  8

  Ivy Nelson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Ivy Nelson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: IvyNelsonBooks@gmail.com.

  First edition June 2020

  ASIN- B088W9BB48

  www.ivynelsonbooks.com

  ALSO BY IVY NELSON

  D.C. Power Games Series

  Power Desired

  Power Reclaimed

  Power Relinquished

  Diamond Doms Series

  Blood

  Heist

  Bling

  Pressure

  Visit Ivy’s website at www.ivynelsonbooks.com to join her newsletter and get a free Diamond Doms novella!

  Table of Contents

  ALSO BY IVY NELSON

  Table of Contents

  A Note From The Author

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  More from the Love Under Lockdown Series

  More from Ivy Nelson

  About the Author

  A Note From The Author

  Betting on the Billionaire contains depictions of BDSM. This book is the author’s interpretation of BDSM fantasies and is not intended to be an educational tool. BDSM is different for everyone and this is just one perspective. Everything in this book is fictitious and should be read as such. If you choose to participate in BDSM, please remember consent above all else and please do educate yourself with something that isn’t a work of fiction.

  I hope you enjoy this creation.

  Ivy Nelson

  Betting

  On The

  Billionaire In Lockdown

  1

  ♥♥♥

  Popcorn bounced out of Rylee’s hands and scattered at her feet as the plane lurched along the runway.

  “Fuck,” she muttered as she gave a sheepish smile of apology to her seatmate before bending to pick up the mess.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Las Vegas. The temperature outside is currently one hundred and thirteen degrees. Please remain seated until the captain has turned off the seat belt signs.”

  Shoving the now useless bag of popcorn into her purse, she laid her head against the seat and did her best to breathe deeply. She hated flying, but it thrilled her to be back in Vegas. The poker tournament later in the week would help her family out of a jam if she did well.

  And she would do well.

  The fact that a group of rich hotshots had hired her to spend two days teaching them how to play Texas Hold’Em was proof that she knew what she was doing at the table.

  When her phone was out of airplane mode, it flashed a text message.

  Call when you’ve landed.

  Pressing the call button at the bottom of the message, she lifted the phone to her ear and waited for someone to answer.

  “Rylee, did you get in OK?”

  “Mr. Novak?”

  He chuckled. “That’s me. You sound surprised.”

  “I just. I thought. I was expecting an assistant to answer. Didn’t know this was your direct line.”

  “Memphis Foster is an important client and a good friend. I’m handling his stay in Vegas personally, and please, call me Hunter.”

  “You got it, Hunter. Anyway, to answer your question, I’m still on the plane.”

  The faint ding of the seatbelt sign being turned off sounded and everyone around her stood. She rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t people be patient? There was no point in everyone standing to get their bags from the overhead at the same damn time.

  “Great, Rylee. Thanks for doing this. A driver is waiting for you and will bring you straight here.”

  She ended the call and closed her eyes.

  “You gonna get up?” the man sitting next to the window asked.

  She turned and stared at him. “And go where?”

  He huffed and turned his attention to the window again.

  Eventually, she was able to haul her bag out of the bin and roll it down the aisle.

  She was traveling light, so there was no need to stop at baggage claim. Instead, she went straight to the exit where a driver was supposed to be waiting.

  “Miss Colton?”

  A man stepped into her path and she jumped, having been lost in her thoughts.

  “Jesus, fuck. Who are you?”

  The man’s expression stayed stern.

  “If you’ll follow me, Miss Colton, the car is just this way.”

  “My driver, I take it?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, try not scaring the crap out of me next time. I have a poker game to play and I can’t afford the anxiety.”

  He cracked a small smile. “So noted, Miss Colton. If you’ll follow me, please?”

  Before she realized what he was doing, he lifted her suitcase out of her hand and headed for the exit that led to the parking garage. There, he led her to a sleek black SUV and put her bag in the back.

  “Mind if I ride up front?” she asked when he opened the back door.

  He looked uncomfortable but gave a shrug and moved to open the front instead. She beat him to it, and he scowled.

  “Sorry. I just hate people trying to make me feel fancier than I am. I really don’t mind opening my own doors. I barely broke a sweat.”

  Slipping her headphones in, she pressed play on her soothing playlist and closed her eyes again.

  The drive to the strip took about twenty minutes and they were soon parking in one of Hunter Novak’s exclusive resort parking garages. This was a place she could never afford unless she won a few big pots at the poker table. Even then, she probably wouldn’t blow her money on it. One of Hunter’s infamous kink parties on the other hand, she would drop money on in a heartbeat—if she had it to drop.

  She hopped out when the car was parked and rounded the car to get her bag.

  The nameless driver beat her to it though, and she was almost sure he smirked as he walked toward the entrance with her bag in hand.

  Shaking her head, she followed him inside.

  “Rylee,” Hunter said with a grin. “Welcome to the Pink Sapphire. We’re happy you could make it. Lunch is just about to be served upstairs and the players will want to meet you.”

  She flashed him a lopsided grin. “Tell Jeeves here I want my bag back.”

  Hunter narrowed his eyes at her. “Jeeves?”

  “The butler?” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “I’ll place it in your room, Miss Colton,” the driver said.

  Hunter's hand landed at the small of her back and together, they walked down the corridor to a bank of elevators. Rylee noticed how staff scurried a little faster or stood a little straighter as Hunter passed.

  “Some of them are itching to learn but don’t let their egos get to you. They’ll try to convince you you’re wrong.”

  Rylee shrugged. “They win a tournament they can tell me I’m wrong. Doesn’t mean I am, but if they can’t win, I don’t have to listen to them.”

  He laughed. “I think you’ll do just fi
ne.”

  They rode to the top of the building where Hunter said Memphis had rented the entire floor for the next week to celebrate his friend and business partner’s upcoming wedding.

  “I don’t know why Memphis thinks he needs lessons,” Hunter said as they stepped into the opulent foyer of the twenty-first floor.

  “Maybe it’s just a gift he’s buying his friends. He paid enough.”

  Hunter strode to a door midway down the hall and pulled a small envelope out of his pocket. “This is your room.”

  “Wait, I’m staying up here with the hot shots?”

  “Why would I put you anywhere else?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just figured you’d have me sleeping with the help or something.”

  “I have no idea what that means. Get freshened up, I’ll let Memphis and the others know you’re here.”

  She tapped the card against the scanner and watched as the light turned green. When she stepped in, her bag was sitting near the dresser.

  “What the fuck?”

  Hunter caught the door before it closed. “What was that?”

  “How did Jeeves get here with my bag before we did?”

  He chuckled. “First, his name is Ron. Second, it’s a trick of the trade. Service elevator is faster than the guest elevators. Don’t tell anyone.”

  He backed out of the room again and the door shut with a soft click.

  With a slow grin, she looked around the spacious room before taking a running start toward the bed. When she jumped, she landed in the middle of the mattress with a giggle.

  Rolling off the bed again, she ran her fingers through her shoulder length hair and thought again that it was time for a haircut.

  She decided not to change since she’d managed to get through the trip from Kansas without spilling anything on herself—a small miracle considering the popcorn incident.

  Slipping her key card in the back pocket of her jeans, she grabbed her sunglasses and hat and opened her door. It wasn’t until she stepped into the hallway that she realized she had no idea where she was going.

  “You must be Rylee Colton,” a voice said from her left. She turned slowly as the deep velvet voice sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Memphis Foster, glad you got here. I wasn’t aware of how beautiful you are. I’ll have to thank Hunter for that added bonus.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat as he extended his hand.

  He wore a dark green button-up shirt that was clearly expensive. It hugged his torso and shoulders and the top two buttons were undone, revealing a smooth tanned chest. His blonde hair was a bit unruly as if he had a bad habit of running his hands through it a lot. The blue eyes that pierced into her made her lick her lips. Images of those eyes staring back at her as he fucked her flashed through her mind.

  Jesus Rylee get a grip. It had clearly been too long since she’d been laid.

  “I’m not sure how you’re supposed to teach my friends poker if you’re mute, Miss Colton.”

  A giggle escaped her. “Sorry. You just startled me. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Foster.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Memphis. Unless you prefer Sir.”

  2

  ♦♦♦

  Memphis watched as the girl’s cheeks turned red. Did she understand what he meant by asking if she preferred Sir? Would she show up at Hunter’s party tonight? He wasn’t expecting to be struck by her beauty the way he was. When Hunter told him who he’d hired for his best friend’s bachelor weekend, he’d gone looking for footage of her tournaments online. There wasn’t much because she didn’t play in a lot of televised tournaments, but what he had seen, she’d been bundled in hoodies and sunglasses. That style wasn’t just a stereotype. Lots of poker players actually found the shrouding garb effective in hiding their bodily responses.

  “I’m going to be blunt,” he said, as he stared down at her. “You’re gorgeous and I’m going to have a hard time not staring at you, so I don’t know how much I’m going to learn this week.”

  Memphis had never played professionally, but he’d played in a few high roller Vegas tournaments just for the hell of it. The lessons were for his friends.

  Rylee smirked. “I appreciate the honesty. Maybe the cap and glasses will help you not stare.”

  “Or you can come to bed with me and I can get you out of my system and focus.”

  Her mouth dropped open and he slipped his hand around her elbow and began moving toward his penthouse.

  As he led Rylee down the hall, he felt his phone buzz and knew it was his attorney. He just hoped it wasn’t unpleasant news.

  He pressed ignore, intent on delivering the poker player to his friends so they could get the lessons started, but the lawyer just called right back.

  “Give me five fucking minutes,” he snapped into the phone before ending the call and shoving it into his pocket.

  Beside him, Rylee stiffened at his harsh tone.

  “My apologies, Rylee, just some work stuff. I’ll excuse myself once I’ve introduced you to the fellas.”

  When he opened the door to his penthouse, the sounds of laughter drifted from the living room. This week was supposed to be fun for Memphis too, but an FBI raid had fucked that up.

  “Evan, Bryce, Collin, Brandon, get your asses in here and meet Rylee,” he shouted as he shut the door.

  The group of well-dressed men ambled into the foyer and took turns shaking hands and introducing themselves to Rylee.

  She looked them all in the eye and offered firm handshakes.

  “Do we have a table ready?” she asked.

  Memphis nodded. “Hotel staff set it up this morning. Let them know if they didn’t follow your instructions. Excuse me, I need to return a phone call.”

  He stepped into his bedroom and shut the door.

  “What’s going on, Jeremy?” he asked when his lawyer answered.

  “The prosecutor has convinced a judge that you’re a flight risk because of the flight you booked to Canada. He wants to revoke your bail.”

  “I wasn’t even on that god damn flight. I sent my jet to pick up some friends.”

  “I know that. It doesn’t change things. I have a solution. It means going back to Arizona, though.”

  He dragged a hand through his hair. “What do you mean?”

  “House arrest until the trial.”

  “Jesus Christ. I have business in Vegas and I’m not missing Collin’s wedding.”

  “If that’s what you want, you better buy a house there, because that’s the only way I keep you out of jail.”

  “House arrest means an ankle monitor. How the fuck do I explain that?”

  “You could volunteer to be chipped.”

  “All for a crime I didn’t even commit? How is that OK?”

  The lawyer sighed. “I’m just offering ideas here, Memphis. I know you’re innocent, but we have a long way to go to get you out of this mess. If you don’t want to spend the next six weeks in a cell, and you don’t want to wear an ankle monitor, you volunteer for the chip and make a big donation to the Nevada State Police Commission.”

  “FUCK. OK. Make it happen. I’m going to talk to Hunter about a house.”

  He shoved the phone in his pocket and stalked out of his room.

  “I’ll be back later,” he snapped when his friends called out for him to join the game.

  He rode the elevator down three floors and stepped off. Hunter’s office was nestled at the back of a ballroom that was only rented out for the most exclusive parties and events.

  “He in there?” he asked the receptionist sitting outside Hunter’s door.

  She nodded as she stared at him and he strode past her desk. It wasn’t until he was opening the door that she jumped into action.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she stammered as she leapt from her chair.

  “It’s fine, Lucy,” Hunter called.

  “The villa for tonight. Who owns it?”

  “Technically, I do. It’s complic
ated. Why?”

  “I want to buy it. Temporarily.”

  “So, you want to rent it.”

  “It needs to look like I bought it.”

  Hunter leaned back. “I have questions.”

  “It’s better if you don’t ask. I just need to buy it three weeks ago.”

  “FBI gonna raid me next?”

  Memphis shook his head. “Guarantee they won’t. Come on. Do this for me.”

  “Only because I know you’re innocent. Give me three hours. Do I need to cancel the party?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I need to own the place and be able to stay there for the next four to six weeks or more. Oh, and Collin might have to move his wedding there.”

  Hunter lifted an eyebrow. “House arrest?”

  “Jesus fucking Christ. How did you know?”

  He laughed. “Lucky guess. I saw an article that said the prosecutor wanted to revoke bail. Get out of here. I’ll make it work and we’ll get you moved. Should I send Rylee home?”

  “I thought I would see if she wanted to come to the party as my guest.”

  “You met her four hours ago, Memphis. How do you know how she’ll react?”

  Memphis shrugged. “Let’s say I have a gut feeling.”

  Hunter rolled his eyes. “Have any of your gut feelings about women ever actually panned out?”

  “Let me know when we can move to the house,” Memphis said, ignoring Hunter’s jab.

  Turning on his heel, he made his way back to the elevator, anxious to spend more time with the cute poker player in his penthouse.

  3

  ♣♣♣

  Rylee couldn’t stop replaying Memphis’ invitation to take her to bed as she studied the poker table that had been set up in the penthouse living room.

  Was he serious? He didn’t seem like the type of man to joke around. And he didn’t seem like the type of man who heard the word no very often. Despite his frankness, she wasn’t offended by his invitation. She was intrigued and she knew it was going to be hard to get her mind off him when she finished her job here.