Gambling For The Virgin: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by Dark Angel

  It's despicable to offer my body up for payment. An exchange of parting my thighs for a pardoning of a debt? I can’t keep gripping my steering wheel this hard because I'll squeeze it off. I hate to drive angry. Driving is supposed to be the calming activity that I do every day, and now, driving over to Wicked Paradise, I’m ready to explode with all the fury burbling in my belly.

  I wonder if my brother fell apart one bad choice at a time.

  Even if this leads to my own downward spiral, it's my choice to take this chance. I have to try and save my brother. He matters more to me than myself. I grip the steering wheel hard, this time because I’m parking and steeling myself for walking into the Wicked Paradise Casino. I breathe deep my last breath as a free woman.

  2

  Lucy

  When I stroll inside the casino, it isn’t hard to find him. Some people like to be the center of attention, and that must be the case with Giancarlo Sandoval. I spot him instantly. Undeniably, that’s him.

  That breathtaking jawline, those sharp features … he’s older, but age has done nothing to make him less attractive. I can’t imagine a younger version of him being any more attractive than he is now. He’s got a single gray streak in his dark, tousled hair that accentuates how sexy he is.

  I have to take a moment to appreciate his face. Giancarlo is a wicked man, but his face is a thing of beauty. The lines on his face aren't etchings that mar, they're character that adds to the carved-from-marble look he has. I bet his body, obviously fit beneath his suit, is just as David's Michelangelo. Really, his whole body is worth looking at an extra second or two.

  Fuck, I'm trying to keep my cool, and I'm looking at his soulful, too-charming eyes, and his devious come-fuck-with-me-I-dare-ya grin.

  I shouldn't be attracted to him. Mostly, he repulses me. So just looking at him now, in person and not the pictures of him online, I shouldn't be having this strong of a reaction to him just because he’s attractive. I’m not the kind of girl to care more about looks than anything else. Giancarlo may be attractive on the outside, but it's the inside that would — and should —count, and make me interested in him. The kind of man who would take me up on this offer—and there's no doubt that is the kind of man that Giancarlo is, which is not a man who I can be attracted to.

  The concept of owning someone's virginity is disgusting. The idea that this is my only power as a woman because I have no money, no fancy job, and not even a completed nor fancy education, is despicable.

  Right now, Giancarlo is a demon to me. Handsome and distracting and willing to take a piece of my soul … I hope. That’s not the sort of thought you have about a good man. That’s the sort of thought you’d expect to have about a man who owns a casino called Wicked Paradise. He looks devilishly good and he's oozing charm, but it's people like him who will do anything, take anything, and have anything, and that means we can't play by the nice rules of a pleasant society. He's good at being a shady bastard, but he's far from the only shady bastard. Men like him rule in every office, on every street, and on the board of every big company.

  I'm a small person of no worth except that I have a pussy that hasn't been entered by a man.

  So instead of bemoaning these facts, or begrudging his attractiveness, I have to stay focused.

  Still, my mind wants to wander, stalling me so that it feels like my heels are literally dug into the plush carpet of the casino. As close as I’m standing, just a few tables away, I'm going to have to approach him soon anyway.

  Scanning the room, I see women wearing outfits that resemble my own, except their outfits are several shades stronger than what I've attempted to pull off. Their heels are higher than mine. Their tops are cut much lower. Their makeup is more dramatic. I wonder if I’m doomed to fail because I didn’t quite dress the part. I can’t attribute this colossal failure on making myself up to not having a mother during my teenage years … I've completely avoided any dating whatsoever. It occurs to me that I’ve never found a man who I’ve wanted to fuck.

  Looking at Giancarlo makes my stomach heat in a way that I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know what to think about that. Is my body trying to cope with this horrible ordeal I want to put it through? Even if an experienced lover like Giancarlo Sandoval takes my virginity, the mental toll of having sex with him is of course a frightening prospect.

  I wonder why, then, I’m a little bit excited by the idea now. It must be because he’s attractive. But that’s so shallow! I think, as I’m watching him so intently now, it's because I recognize something in him. I recognize it because I feel it, too.

  Giancarlo Sandoval looks like he wants to be absolutely anywhere but in Wicked Paradise. Oh, I can agree.

  I wonder why he feels that …

  But I don’t want to think about that. Making him human makes me more terrified. If he’s another person in my mind, then I have to fathom why he’d be willing to accept my offer. Yes, even though I want him to, it still isn’t pleasant.

  I don't have to wonder why I've never met a man I wanted to fuck. I'm happy to be a virgin because I don't have the time or desire to deal with any of the fucked up things in this world.

  The only man I love is my brother, Tommy, and he's falling apart in front of me. Other people I've had in my life—so-called friends—called me weak when I said that my brother just needed help. Because we have no family and I'm all he has left, I have to be stern with him. It's no excuse for his behavior. His gambling, alcohol, and drug addictions are the reasons behind his actions, but they don’t remove him from needing help. They don’t erase his humanity, as if him making those choices invalidate his right to being healthy and happy. Tommy’s just having a much harder time getting there, and he needs help. If I knew what to do to help him, I would've done it. I've tried so many fucking times to do just about anything that I can think of. My friends all fade away because they think I need to cut him from my life.

  How can anyone be so callous?

  So many people are ready to feel high and mighty above Tommy.

  This is why I have a hard time connecting to people. I can’t relate to how shallow people can be, how completely devoid of empathy. Haven’t they ever loved someone so much that they’d love them unconditionally? Why is it so difficult for them to understand that when you love someone, you aren’t condoning all of their actions … you just love them regardless.

  Well, I love Tommy unconditionally. I love him enough to do anything for him.

  I love him enough to debase myself, because I don't think I'm better than him, or worth more. I'm taking the only thing I have to offer, offering it to this scummy prick Giancarlo, and I'm going to get my brother the help he needs and keep him from getting hurt.

  The people who have all fallen out of my life because they already thought I should give up on Tommy, those people would judge me so much for this decision.

  But I don’t feel wrong for my actions. I feel vindicated.

  I'll sleep with this devil, and I’ll take the marks on my soul in exchange for saving Tommy, every step of the way that I can. And when Tommy’s well, then we'll never, ever, come near places like this or people like Giancarlo, ever again. I won't defile our lives like that. We’ll get far away from this nightmare city and live in some quiet town that gives us both a chance to start over.

  After all, there are diners everywhere. I can get a new job. I can pack up and leave and find us a new place.

  Tommy and I are the only family that we have. We have a right to be happy.

  A few moments or hours of whatever unpleasant fate awaits me with Giancarlo is nothing compared to taking care of my brother and finally being able to see him smile again. A real smile on Tommy’s face, one that he means, one that he isn’t wearing just so that I’ll stop worrying … I’d do anything for Tommy to feel like he can smile again.

  I feel the first smile I’ve had in a long time spread over my lips, despite the terror that sends a shiver through me. I watch the way Giancarlo’s hands grip hi
s glass and I'm transfixed by it. I realize now, fear washing over me, that when Tommy is okay and doesn’t owe Giancarlo Sandoval … I have to find a way to make it look like I did anything else but fuck a casino owning gangster to erase one of Tommy’s debts.

  I should have a better plan, but this is my only one. He owes Giancarlo Sandoval more than he owes anyone else, so I figured I should knock down this opponent before he does something to my brother. I'll worry about the rest and make more money, pull more shifts at the diner, and get him into a rehab facility so he can get help. One step at a time, I'm going to save us both.

  This is the thing about having to play dirty. I don’t want to do it, but I can and I will do it in this fucked up world to make sure something good like my brother and my only family gets to exist, and not fade away because Tommy very well may disappear if I don’t do something. I can’t handle him dying. And I can't be bothered to care about what others might think of what I’m doing because I need to take care of my brother.

  That includes that little voice in me that seems to get silenced when I stalk toward Giancarlo Sandoval. My mouth runs dry and I can’t believe I’m thinking about the size of those hands compared to various parts of my body. I’m thinking about what it might feel like if he touches me, and that’s so strange to me. I’ve never even fantasized about being with a man before. Now, the one man I've decided to sleep with, but who is also the last person I think I’d want to sleep with … I’m picturing what it would feel like to try and catch my breath because he's on top of me. I can’t breathe now.

  I want to clear this picture out of my mind.

  But maybe I should focus on how attractive this pig is. The man who would hurt my brother somehow turns me on, wrong as that is. But I need this feeling.

  I can use this feeling. Use this burning under my skin that makes my pulse speed up and play the role of the woman offering herself up to him even better than I could've imagined.

  I need to make him want me and I'd be lying if I told myself I didn't want him. I do. How could I not? He's damned attractive! It's certainly a part of how he gets away with everything he does; Giancarlo Sandoval is an unholy amount of charming. His charm takes the sensible part of a person, and melts it down to their core. Seriously, it feels like someone dropped an ice cube in my panties. If they did, the heat looking at this man could melt it. My stomach still turns, and twists even further, but I find that I kind of like the way that I can’t feel myself in control. It's like my brain is just a little too hazy at the notion of him touching me. Talking to him.

  I'm already wondering what his voice might sound like. I want to hear him say my name.

  Use this desire to get what you want. Be just like him. That’s what I tell myself. I have to think this way, and be ruthless.

  This is the only way to save Tommy from an impossible situation with an improbable plan.

  Now that I'm actually doing the deal, standing right beside Giancarlo, I’m motivated to feel confident. I let myself get caught up in the moment, and now my thoughts are taking me down a winding road where I can barely see past the headlights of what's coming next on this messy road. I’m already hazy-minded with growing lust. But this sense of being less in control now, urges me to play this game with every drop of resolve that I have.

  I have power, and I'm going to use it. I'm not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

  I can do this.

  It doesn’t feel so bad to be not as in control. There’s a thrill in me now. Somehow I’m taking the biggest gamble I've ever made in my life, and instead of being sick to my stomach, I’m exhilarated.

  But when I'm close enough to smell the fresh, masculine scent of him, I’m downright terrified.

  Oh, God, can I actually do this?

  3

  Gian

  The lights and sounds of the Wicked Paradise Casino are the sort of dull roar that doesn’t even penetrate my senses. I shove my fingertips against the green velvet of the game board. Finger the ridges of a chip. Clench my fists so hard. Hold my cold glass, my skin drinking in the condensation. The voices of the people around the table fade away, everything does.

  Then one voice cuts through everything and it's like I’m feeling things for the first time.

  "I'm Lucy, and I want to make a deal." A feminine voice cuts through the crowd inside my casino and directly into my ears.

  I hear the sound of another person wanting something from me.

  Another person propositioning me. I get women all the time who think they can get money from me, get something shiny from me, all because I have this reputation. One that I don’t do anything to discredit, but that doesn’t serve me shit because I haven’t been with a woman in a very long time. I choose not to be. I have absolutely zero fucking interest in anything that flits in my direction.

  So why does something tug at me in this Lucy’s voice? Why does her request make me interested, when it should do the exact opposite?

  The air is thicker with the tension rolling off her, the shake in her voice so minor that a lesser man wouldn’t notice.

  But I’m no lesser man. I’m as skilled as they come in the arts of reading people, manipulating people, and getting what I want. My skills help me hear the conflict permeating her voice. The air seems thick with it.

  Lucy’s hate toward me emanates like dark curls of smoke…and I'm not interested in that. I don’t need more people around me who want something from me and openly despise me.

  “If you have just a moment for me,” Lucy says in a voice that is firm, but has the faintest tremble. Why does that bring life to my dead senses?

  I also hear the desperation in her voice and wonder what more there is to her story. That’s the part that interests me, and I don’t know why.

  The only needs I serve are my own. I learned a long time ago that the only way to keep myself strong and safe is to ruthlessly look out for only me. That’s served me pretty damn well — I own this casino, the Wicked Paradise, and near countless other holdings in my empire that I let my accountant worry about. I spend most of my days in this casino because it's the perfect coffin for me while I drink through every rotten day and everything seems to pass me by.

  It's been a long time since I cared about anything more than my empire, which I only treat as my distraction. It satisfies my urge to own things, control them, and build more power.

  So why the hell do I care about some honey-voiced girl who walks up to me and tells me she wants something?

  Desperation is everywhere, and normally I pay no attention to it unless I’m actively seeking to take advantage of it. But now? Now I find myself wanting to know why she’s desperate, and I have this creeping suspicion that I actually care beyond my own purposes.

  Why?

  How?

  I thought those parts of me died when I decided to care about nothing but my businesses. The last thing I cared about tried to destroy me. A wife, a woman, something so far in the past for me that I can’t be bothered to even think about them now. But I can’t help but see how I built everything I have by losing something I never had … and now this girl makes me start to want things that the last woman made me give up on.

  I turn to look at her. I have to see what face, what body the enchantress’s voice belongs to. Thoughts I may have had about ignoring her are deleted from my mind. She's fucking gorgeous. The most beautiful legs, luxurious dark hair, and the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Her hazel eyes want to be happy, but her body is tired. The soul behind her skin is aching. I go from not giving a fuck about her plight to feeling an intense ache to touch her. I haven't had a woman in years. I told myself that after my wife, that was a gamble I'd rather not make again. Women throw their pussies at me all the time, but I have no interest in some random fuck.

  Now I wonder what the hell long-legged Lucy wants. I can't breathe for a second when she steps closer to me, and then I catch the scent of her like winter and cherries. Fuck, I want to taste her.

  "My brother owes y
our casino a lot of money. I'm offering you me in exchange for you erasing his debts. One night, and you cross out everything he owes, and I'll be keeping him from coming back." Her voice—she's trying so hard to be strong. But there's a pain that brings a waver. She's not asking for enough, and she's afraid I'll say no.

  But this woman is offering me the very thing I have to have from her the instant I laid eyes on her. Lucy doesn’t have to know that she turned my normally rational thoughts to cinders, and all I want is to fuck her. I mean, after all, she came here to offer me the one thing she thinks I care about more than anything. She’s telling me what matters to her more than anything.

  Of course I’m going to give it to her. She doesn’t have to know what an easy mark I was though … I want to play with her. Knowing I'm going to help her, I want to see her struggle just a little bit more. It'll make it taste even sweeter when I erase everything that troubles her.

  "What makes you think I'll just want to fuck you? I can fuck any woman I want, and I want my money." I don't know who her brother is, but if he owes me enough that Lucy is offering me her pussy, I doubt it's a small amount.

  "I'm a virgin," Lucy says with passion in her voice. Clearly a cover for the insecurity she faces at being a virgin — and because of that, I know she isn’t lying. That and the fear coming off her in waves. Fear that she's going to get turned down for what I know has to be her last resort offer.

  She's wearing what she probably thinks is the outfit to catch the kind of man whore she thinks I am. But there's far too much class in her simple outfit to just be slutty. A pencil skirt that hugs her so tightly it makes me want to tear it off. But if she's going for slut, it should be so much shorter. I find it delicious that she doesn’t know any better. Same with that little peek of flesh at the top of her silky blouse. This is how an attractive woman dresses, but the kind of trashy outfit you wear to get a man to forgive a huge debt is supposed to be much more sinful. It sells me even further on her purity. Either she’s the world’s best actress, or she’s desperate and unsure of what to do. My money’s on what I read, because I haven’t read someone wrong since the last woman I cared about.