by Joanna Rees
Besides, whatever she did, she’d be found lacking. She’d long since got used to being the black sheep of her family – the naughty to Elodie’s nice. But secretly it grated. After all, neither Elodie nor Hud had any idea about her private life and all the pain and heartache she’d so recently endured. No fucking idea at all.
But that was a secret that Savvy was keeping to herself. Let them think what they liked. One day, somehow, she’d prove everyone wrong.
In the meantime, she was going to have fun, fun, fun.
CHAPTER TWO
Just metres away, as the SkyBird passed the fourth floor and the Enzo Vegas’s high-tech security hub, newly promoted security manager Lois Chan twisted her jet-black hair into a knot at the back of her head and stabbed it in place with her pen. Then she put her hands on the waist of her navy pencil skirt and studied the wall-to-wall bank of high-definition screens.
She cautioned herself to keep her focus. But boy, was it hard. Her toes tingled with adrenalin and she shifted in her high black sling-backs, realizing that she hadn’t sat down for nearly eight hours and probably wouldn’t for at least the same again.
In her three months here, she’d never seen anything like this. But then again this was her first Fight Night and only now was she finally starting to realize what all the fuss was about.
It was insane out there. And she could tell from the shouted commands of the team around her that she wasn’t the only one feeling that it was all about to kick off.
But this is also the opportunity you’ve been waiting for, she forcibly reminded herself, refusing to allow her fear to overcome her. This was her moment to show the team – her team – who was boss.
OK, she might already have one failed career as a cop behind her and she might be a woman in this wholly male-dominated industry, but this was her big chance. She was determined to prove to Roberto Enzo that she was up to managing any task, no matter how big. To show him maybe that one day she would even be up to running the entire Enzo Vegas itself.
Which was why tonight nothing, nothing, could go wrong.
She picked up a remote. Screen one ballooned with a view of the Enzo Vegas’s grand entrance. Crowds jammed the sidewalk, surging up against the cordon of security guards. Cameras flashed. Fans screamed. Journalists jostled hungrily for position as the slow-moving cortège of limos continued to disgorge its feast of A-list celebrity eye-candy.
Everyone who was anyone was here tonight, the richest and the most famous, the movers and shakers, the stars and star-makers. They were all here to be seen on this, the biggest, most glitzy night of the year.
Right on cue, Lois saw Hollywood legend Todd Lands stepping out of a white limo with his latest svelte blonde girlfriend, to a riot of applause.
Lois smiled to herself, remembering the dreamy crush she’d had on him after all those teen flicks she’d watched as a girl. She had to admit that he’d only got sexier as he’d got older. With the aid of the remote, she zoomed right in and watched him squeezing his date’s hand before giving the crowd his famous smile, hardly blinking as the cameras continued to strobe.
But tonight there was no time to linger on the scene. Lois tapped the remote again and screen two switched to the view through the famous golden doors. Inside, the red-carpeted lobby with its dazzling Venetian glass chandeliers was heaving with bodies.
Bobby King, Lois’s front-of-house security manager, was standing with his huge black frame squashed against the wall as he ushered people through. He didn’t look happy. But then, he wasn’t paid a six-figure salary to look happy. He was paid to look unbreakable, uncompromising and totally in charge. But even by Bobby’s standards he was looking particularly pissed off tonight.
Bobby hated Fight Night. And he’d assured Lois she would too by the time the night was through.
Another tap and she was inside the VIP baccarat room and she felt her pulse race. A stout Chinese man with a thick mane of glossy black hair and a handsome pock-marked face was joining the game, sitting down at position number eight, with his entourage of Chinese associates – all male, all in black suits – fanning out behind his chair.
So he was here. For real. Dr Jai Shijai was right here at Enzo Vegas.
The tycoon of tycoons had finally arrived.
There was a whole department at the Enzo dedicated to luring major players to come and gamble by any means possible – usually by offering them complimentary transport, accommodation, food and drink. These comps guys had been after Jai Shijai for months, trying to make him swap allegiance from La Paris to the Enzo Vegas. Lavish gifts and invitations had been sent to Jai Shijai’s home in Shanghai, promises made to his fixers in Beijing.
With Roberto Enzo’s blessing, Tristan Blake, the new head of the comps department, had had the number plates of one of the limos changed to the auspicious numbers JS 6688 to shuttle Jai Shijai here from Roberto’s private jet, which in turn had been placed on standby for him two days ago in Hong Kong. Lois was sure they’d all be thrilled that their efforts had been worth it. No doubt Tristan himself would be riding high on the triumph of having successfully harpooned such a huge whale.
Which was why it was even more important for Lois to keep a level head. She pressed her radio headpiece to her ear. ‘Carl, give me an update,’ she said.
‘It’s not looking good, I’m afraid, Lois,’ the chief engineer finally answered.
It wasn’t sounding good either. The static on the line was terrible.
‘Damn it,’ Lois muttered.
The staff intercom system had started bugging out earlier in the evening, and although Carl had worked on it for hours, it still wasn’t up and running properly. Without it, Lois felt vulnerable. Being able to communicate clearly and quickly with her staff on the ground was key. Especially with players like Jai Shijai in the house.
Of course, everyone carried a cell phone, but with so many people around, most staff members wouldn’t even be listening out to hear the damn things beep.
But before she had a chance to instruct Carl, Mario interrupted her.
‘Lois, you’d better get down there,’ Mario said. ‘Bobby just called. The senator’s arriving any minute.’
Lois put her hand on her forehead and blew out a breath. Focus, she thought. Focus. There was nothing for it. She was going to have to delegate.
Mario, the skinny, bespectacled young man at the station next to her, was a new recruit – Lois’s first, and she liked his conscientious manner, even if he did blush every time he looked at her.
She knew that the other guys in the hub had already nicknamed him Clark Kent, on account of the fact he worked so closely with her. But even though Lois got the joke, she didn’t particularly care for the analogy. She was nothing like Lois Lane. Lois Lane didn’t have a goddamned clue what was going on right underneath her own nose. And what kind of supposedly ace reporter could fail to spot that her closest colleague was Superman in a pair of specs?
‘Take over for me, Mario,’ she said. ‘And keep a close eye on Jai Shijai in the baccarat room. You know his reputation.’
They all did.
He wasn’t just another punter. He was a potential nightmare to handle. Given the choice, she’d have kept her eyes glued to him like a hawk.
But now an even bigger threat had arrived.
Namely Senator Joshua damn Fernandez.
CHAPTER THREE
Savvy felt a fresh rush of excitement as she and Marcus stepped out into the cavernous main hall of Enzo Vegas’s famous casino. The endless rows of throbbing slot machines before them were all full. The noise was deafening: the hubbub of voices, the trill of electronic musical scales, the chime of quarters hitting the pans and the intermittent fanfares announcing the jackpot winners . . .
Savvy loved it. It was the sound of Vegas. The sound of money. Her favourite sound in the world.
She took Marcus’s hand as they walked through the hall, following the red carpet past the slots to where the blackjack tables were alive with t
he tumbling rattle of plastic chips and cheering winners. Permagrinning waitresses rollerbladed skilfully through the crowds, carrying loaded trays of drinks from the bar, where smartly uniformed waiters tossed colourful bottles into the air with artful abandon.
Savvy had never dared come to the Enzo before, but she should have done. It had a different feel to La Paris, where she always felt watched and on edge. Here she felt like one of the masses, both anonymous and special for it.
Fascinated to check out the layout, she looked in on the plush poker hall, with its French Louis XV-themed décor. Beneath the fancy gilt chandeliers, all twenty-five bespoke tables were fully occupied. An LCD screen covering the far wall listed the pro players’ names next to their photographs. The legend at the top revealed that this was the National Poker Forum’s annual playoffs.
Shit, she could almost hear her father thinking. Why haven’t we already snatched that one from them too?
In contrast to the raucous, frenetic activity in the slots and blackjack halls, the atmosphere in here was intense and reverential. Like a library, Savvy thought. Or a church. Although the last time she was in a church she’d been busy with an altar boy from school behind the pulpit, she remembered with a wry smile.
Yes, this place had class, she thought. It was everything La Paris wasn’t. She could see that straight away. It was a stately Rolls-Royce beside La Paris’s brash but unlovable Hummer. This wasn’t just a machine. It was a thing of beauty. No doubt about it, Enzo Vegas had soul.
That was what her father and his cronies just didn’t get. People came here for the experience, for the love.
And that was the irony, Savvy realized, as she took Marcus’s hand and ducked back out of the poker hall into the heavy crowd. Despite refusing to take any part in the family business, she was the only one really qualified to show her father how to take on Roberto Enzo at his own game, and win. But no one in her family ever took her or her ideas seriously and now she’d given up trying.
‘Tristan, my main man!’ Marcus suddenly exclaimed, holding his arms out in welcome to a tall, tanned guy with very white teeth. He had a hip sculpted beard and long, immaculately trimmed sideburns.
Savvy rolled her eyes. It was typical of Marcus to bump into someone he knew. Because Marcus Maitlin knew everyone. He made it his business to hang out in the right places, with the right crowd.
‘What the hell are you doing here, man? I thought you were in New York?’ Marcus said, as the two men embraced.
‘I transferred to the big time here. I’m head of comps.’
‘No surprise to me. Best organizer in the world, this guy,’ Marcus told Savvy, slapping Tristan on the back.
‘So are you guys here on vacation?’ Tristan asked. Savvy noticed him checking out her legs.
‘We’re here for the fight. Here,’ Marcus said, delving in his pocket and pulling out the tickets. Tristan looked at them and then at his watch. The latest Rolex. Top of the range. Tristan was obviously a very well-rewarded comps guy.
‘I hate to tell you guys but you’re cutting it fine. Don’t sweat it,’ Tristan said with a smile. ‘I know a short cut. Follow me.’
Tristan led them quickly over to the nearest cocktail bar, where he took a card out of his inside jacket pocket and swiped it on a discreet scanner on the wall. A panel heavily brocaded with green wallpaper slid back to reveal a mahogany-clad elevator.
‘It’s easier if we go up, then across and down,’ he said, as they followed him inside.
He hit a button on the control panel. He stood with one foot crossed over the other, his hands spread out behind him along the brass bar, as the elevator started to rise.
‘So who’s in tonight?’ Marcus asked.
‘Well, you’re here . . . so everyone who is anyone,’ Tristan said, laughing.
Creep, Savvy thought.
‘Who else?’
‘You ever heard of a guy called Jai Shijai? The billionaire? He’s down there playing baccarat right now,’ Tristan went on. ‘He used to play in the Paris but he’s ours now.’
Savvy noted his boastful tone and wasn’t surprised by it. She knew all about Jai Shijai. Or rather, she knew all the rumours about him. He was one of the biggest, most enigmatic figures in world gambling.
She felt her hackles rise. How dare this Tristan guy brag about stealing her father’s best customer? Jai Shijai being here was costing her father money. And therefore, by association, costing her too – a feeling she didn’t like, not one little bit.
‘Oh?’ she said. ‘I thought those Chinese guys were superstitious and always played at the same place?’
Tristan looked at her, momentarily puzzled how someone like her could know something like that.
‘Not any more,’ he said. ‘We made it seriously worth his while to come to us. And trust me, he’ll have a much better time at the Enzo than at that jumped-up cruise ship down the road.’
Cruise ship!
God, Savvy would love to see her father’s face if he heard La Paris being referred to like that.
The elevator door slid open silently and Savvy saw that they were on a floor that looked nothing like the rest of the Enzo Vegas she’d seen so far.
‘We’re not supposed to be up here,’ Tristan explained, ushering them out of the elevator. ‘This is where the security guys hang out.’
Savvy thought about the large wrap of cocaine in her bra as she followed Marcus and Tristan up the corridor, past a glass wall. Through it she could see lots of screens monitoring everything going on in the casino below. Men were stationed in front of the screens, all of them smartly suited and booted like Tristan. What she was witnessing now was obviously the business end of the operation. And every single inch of it was high-tech.
What were all those people doing in there? Even looking through the glass, she could pick up their sense of urgency.
Was there a room like this at her father’s casino? She guessed that there must be. Savvy had never given much thought to the inner workings of La Paris before, only the seductive decadence of its public face – the same as every other person who walked through the door.
But she felt funny now seeing all this up close, glimpsing this secret world. A world of intrigue hidden behind closed doors. A world to which she could probably gain access at La Paris if only she chose to knock.
She smiled at her half-reflection in the glass, surprised at how much she suddenly got it. These were the puppeteers behind the glittering show downstairs. She’d just pulled back the curtain and was staring at the Wizard of Oz.
Who knows? she thought. Maybe I will take Daddy up on his offer of a tour around La Paris after all.
‘We should go,’ Tristan said, clearly uncomfortable that Savvy was lingering.
‘Seeing sure is believing,’ she said, reluctantly following him and Marcus further down the corridor.
‘Excuse me?’
‘I’m just very impressed with how, er, industrious it all looks,’ she said.
Tristan ushered them quickly to the elevator at the far end of the corridor. But just as they were about to step inside, a pretty, petite Asian-looking woman in a grey business suit rushed towards them and held the door.
‘Hi,’ she said to Tristan breathlessly, smiling perfunctorily at Marcus and Savvy. ‘You don’t mind going over to the baccarat room for me, do you?’
‘Actually, I was just taking these guys down to the arena,’ Tristan said.
From his shift in demeanour, Savvy guessed that this woman must be his boss and that he didn’t like being given orders. But whoever she was, she fixed him with a steely look.
‘I’ll do that,’ she said. ‘I’m on my way down. But I need you in the baccarat room. Now.’ Her eyes widened with intensity. ‘The comms are down, so keep your cell phone switched on. And call me immediately if you think there’s a problem . . .’
‘Fine,’ Tristan said, backing down. ‘So Lois here will show you where to go.’ He shook Marcus’s hand as he ushered him and Savvy i
nto the elevator. ‘Have a great night, you guys,’ he added, waving them a final goodbye before disappearing from view.
The woman – Lois – joined them in the elevator and pressed a button and the door closed.
‘Lois Chan, head of security,’ she introduced herself, formally shaking both of them by the hand.
Savvy glanced at Marcus and stifled a giggle. Left alone in the lift with Lois Chan, she felt as if they were naughty schoolchildren.
She slouched against the bar and watched as Lois pursed her lips, tapping her fingers on the skirt of her grey business suit. She had an aura of authority and seriousness about her, despite her small, neat stature.
She noticed that Marcus was scanning her ass appreciatively. She glared at him, pretending to be shocked, but it only encouraged him. Hidden behind Lois, Marcus increased his ogling, giving Savvy a look that made her realize he had rather salacious thoughts concerning both her and Lois. Marcus obviously had a thing for getting horny in elevators.
Sensing the communication going on behind her, Lois Chan half turned and looked Marcus up and down, clearly flustered. Was she annoyed that mere customers like Savvy and Marcus had somehow blagged their way up into her section to begin with? She had the kind of no-nonsense manner that made Savvy just itch to ruffle her feathers.
Time for some fun, she thought.
‘So . . . Tristan was just telling us about Jai Shijai,’ she said conversationally, as the elevator began its descent.
‘Oh? Was he?’ Lois Chan sounded guarded.
‘He’s the guy in the baccarat room, right?’ she pressed, amused to see that this small titbit of information gave her so much power.
Lois Chan tried to laugh it off, furrowing her eyebrows. ‘And what else did Tristan tell you?’
‘Just that this Jai guy will have a better time here at Enzo Vegas than at La Paris,’ Marcus said.
