The Billionaire From Las Vegas

by Cj Howard

  “I already told you I’m grateful,” Shawn protested.

  “Show me you’re grateful,” Claire told him. “Stop getting yourself into all these situations. Stop expecting me to bail you out like I’m your parent and you’re my child!” She felt her eyes stinging and blinked quickly, taking a shaking breath to keep herself from actually starting to cry.

  “You are my child, I raised you and I kept you fed and clothed,” Shawn insisted. “You owe me your loyalty.”

  “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing!” Claire laughed, but the laugh tasted bitter in her mouth, in her throat. She wanted to scream—to scream so long and so loudly that her throat began to bleed, so that she couldn’t say anything for days to come. She hadn’t anticipated this meeting being this upsetting.

  “I didn’t ask to be born. I didn’t ask to have you as my father. You made those choices for me. And you continued to make choices all throughout my childhood—choices that got our electric shut off, choices that got you thrown into jail, choices that humiliated me over and over again.” She shook her head. “I owe you nothing.”

  “Hey! Don’t you dare fucking talk about me like I never did anything for you,” Shawn told her bitterly. “I worked hard to make sure you had as much as possible. I made it so you could go on your school trips.”

  “You also made it so I had to wash my clothes in the sink for a month after you got our washer and dryer repossessed,” Claire countered.

  “I made sure you were able to get food when you were in college,” Shawn said.

  Claire closed her eyes for a few moments, counting to ten in her mind. “The point of this is, I don’t want to see you anymore,” Claire said finally, opening her eyes. “After I leave here, they’re going to bring you an airline voucher, and you are going to get the hell out of the city. No casino here is going to let you play anywhere, even if you come up with the money to sit at a table.

  You can figure out where the hell you’re going and go there, and I don’t want to hear from you again.” She met her father’s gaze steadily, but with an effort. It felt as if someone had wrapped her chest in a vise and begun slowly tightening it. Claire sniffed, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes.

  “You don’t mean it,” her father said, making it not quite a question.

  “I do,” Claire told him. “I don’t want to hear from you for at least a year and a half.” Her father—the man who’d given her the deep warm tones of her skin, the thickness of her hair, the shape of her eyes—stared at her, stunned. And Claire stared back, feeling that ache in the center of her chest radiating out through her fingertips, down to her toes, but not letting it break her.

  “You’ll change your mind,” Shawn said.

  Claire shook her head. “No, I won’t,” she told him. “This is the last time I’m going to help you. And it may very well be the last time I ever fucking speak to you.” Before Shawn could say anything more to her, Claire turned around and pressed the button that her escort had told her about, on the door frame. She had her back to him, and it was as if she had deprived him of even the ability to speak—he didn’t try, even though it took a couple of moments for the door to open.

  Claire stepped through it without looking back, without sparing even a momentary glance at her father. Part of her thought she should have prepared more, should have made herself able to actually converse with the man considering it could potentially be the last time they spoke. But a stronger part of her mind pointed out that the conversation was likely to have gone the way it had no matter how she prepared.

  There were things she had had to say to Shawn that couldn’t wait, and she wasn’t about to cheat herself by not saying them. She brought her hands up and quickly wiped the tears from under her eyes, took a few quick, deep breaths, and pushed her shoulders back. She would be going shopping with Benjamin for her new work wardrobe next, and Claire knew that she would need—and definitely want—to have her head screwed on right for that task.

  She followed her escort out of that section of the hotel and ruthlessly pushed thoughts of her father from her mind. She had taken care of what she had gone there to take care of, and she was unlikely to be in that part of the building ever again. She could—in theory—forget about her father entirely for the next twelve months, keep her nose to the grindstone, and make enough money to pay off his debt, saving enough to have a cushion against the months she was fairly certain she would be without work once the contract expired, and move on with her life. It wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t what she would have chosen, but it was done.

  “Mr. Minken will be right down,” the escort told her, leaving Claire off to the side of the reception area. “He said to inform you that he’s already made arrangements with several stores, and for a driver to take you, so you can hit the ground running.” The escort shrugged off this enigmatic comment and gave Claire a slight smile. “Pleasure working with you this afternoon, Ms. Stevenson. Hope I’ll be seeing you around.”

  Claire smiled back at the man. “I think you probably will,” Claire told him. “Thanks for working with me.” The man left her, and Claire had a few moments to look around the casino lobby, gather herself, and regain some measure of composure. She would be fine. The worst part was over.

  “You look like you’re made of steel,” Benjamin remarked as he approached her. Claire started slightly; he had appeared seemingly from nowhere. She shrugged and gave him a polite smile.

  “Just waiting patiently,” she said.

  “I hope that however troubling things were talking to your father, this afternoon goes better for you.” He started to offer her his arm, thought better of it, and let his arm fall back to his side. Instead, he gestured for her to precede him, and they both headed for the entrance to the casino.

  “I am not shopping for fun, here,” Claire pointed out. “This is supposed to be professional attire necessary to work for you.”

  “But you can have a little fun,” Benjamin countered. “I tried to give you as much discretion as possible within the guidelines.”

  Claire couldn’t help herself; she smiled. The guidelines had been steadily, strictly professional, but she could tell that he had wanted to give her freedom to choose colors, brands, things like that—at least within reason. It would be interesting to see if Benjamin tried to steer her toward sexier options within the professional wardrobe he intended her to have—still within the code he’d provided, but informed by the fact that they’d slept together and the fact that Claire was sure he wanted to sleep with her again. She wasn’t sure, hadn’t decided, if she felt the same way.

  They stepped out of the climate-controlled confines of the hotel and into the glaring early afternoon sun of Vegas, and Claire could feel herself almost immediately beginning to sweat—which would actually be effective, given the aridity of the air around her.

  Nonetheless, she was glad when Benjamin pointed out the white Lincoln town car pulled up to the entrance, its windows tinted an inky black strong enough to block out almost all light and definitely any peering gazes. “That’s us,” he said, steering Claire toward it with a gentle hand.

  “Where exactly are you planning on us shopping?” Claire nodded to the driver as he held open the door for her. The man looked almost old enough to be her father and had dark skin like her own. She pushed the reminder firmly out of her mind.

  “First I thought we’d check out Fashion Show. I have a few personal shoppers in places there. If we can’t find enough there, we’ll hit up Miracle Mile,” Benjamin replied, and Claire couldn’t help but smile to herself at the names that Vegas had given its malls, its landmarks.

  There was something so kitsch about it that was impossible to take seriously and yet at the same time seemed completely sincere. It would be her home for the next twelve months; she might as well get used to it. Benjamin climbed into the back seat with her, and the driver closed the door behind them. Claire set her mind on the task of getting new clothes to reflect her new job and tried not to think abou
t whether or not Benjamin would make a move on her that day—and whether or not she wanted him to.

  Chapter7

  Benjamin stepped into his office after his afternoon meeting and checked the time. He’d asked Claire to be in his office ten minutes after he came back from his meeting, to start her first “shift” of work with him. The work he had for her to do would keep her at odd hours, but they’d talked about it at length during the shopping trip he’d taken her on. She would be a highly personal secretary, of sorts—helping him with particular meetings. The first one she would go to with him would be an hour after her arrival, and he wanted her to be ready for the work at hand.

  He sat down at his desk and took out his phone, reminding himself of the few details he would need before talking to Claire. It had been a full day since their shopping trip together, and she’d made herself scarce… not that he blamed her. He had spent a few thousand dollars on clothes for her out of his own pocket—which he hadn’t let her know, at least not in explicit detail—as well as shoes and some makeup, enough for her to be able to do her job the best way possible.

  Her luggage had been moved, with her consent, to her new quarters in the hotel—not a Prestige-level suite, but still a very good one, on a level with the suites offered to the other administrative and executive employees of the casino. She would be able to stay there for as long as she wanted, bankrolled by him.

  There was a knock at the door, and Claire stepped through it, not stopped or slowed by his guard in any way; Ben had made that requirement clear. Claire would be coming and going a lot, and he knew that it would get annoying having to permit her each time. She came in looking absolutely flawless, wearing a black skirt and a light, boat-necked blouse, her braids pushed back from her face and falling behind her shoulders, and her makeup lightly done. The woman who stepped into his office looked like someone to be taken utterly seriously, which was what Benjamin had had in mind.

  “Right on time,” he said with a smile as Claire sat down across the desk from him, taking out her own phone.

  “I always am,” Claire said. “So how is this meeting going to work?”

  “It’s with some associates,” Benjamin said. “They’re an online gaming company, based in Sweden, and they want to diversify—and they think that Halston is a good place to branch out.”

  Claire nodded. “It can’t be a lunch or dinner meeting,” Claire pointed out.

  He shrugged. “It’s drinks at the bar, in a lounge there. It might last into dinner—but probably not. We can get dinner afterwards.”

  Claire raised an eyebrow at that slightly, looking doubtful.

  “We can get dinner?” Benjamin inquired, smiling slowly. “I am sure—at least as sure as I can be—that I made it clear to you that it won’t be part of your job to have sex with me,” he said. “But considering how good it was the night we were together, I can’t help but hope you would choose to have sex with me again—at some point, at least.”

  Claire gave him a wry smile as her first reaction to that comment. “You’re going to seduce me again,” she said.

  Benjamin chuckled. “Eventually,” he agreed. “But I don’t want you to feel like you’re constantly seeing me if you don’t want to. We’ll have dinner, and I’ll leave it at that. I like to get to know my employees—especially one who is working as closely with me as you will be.” He turned his attention briefly to his computer to look at some more details and decided to focus—for the time being, at least—on the first official meeting that Claire would be attending with him.

  He went over the details regarding the associates he would be meeting with, as he’d taken them down from his own research; in the future, Claire would be doing the research herself, providing him with details as well as memorizing them herself. It would be good to have someone else to do that part of the lifting, Benjamin thought.

  “So basically my job in this is essentially to be a wingman, but in a business sense,” Claire offered, and Ben thought about that description for a moment.

  “That’s a pretty apt description, yeah,” he agreed. “I wanted a fairly easy assignment for your first day working for me, to get you into the groove of things.” He rose to his feet. “Which reminds me… I need to show you your workstation.”

  Claire’s eyes widened slightly. “I wasn’t aware that I was going to have a workstation,” she said, and Benjamin resisted the urge to chuckle.

  “Well, not all of your work is going to be standing at my side,” he pointed out. “You’ll have research and other matters to take care of, too.” He gestured for Claire to follow him.

  “I just figured I’d work from my room or in here,” Claire said with a shrug, but she rose and followed as Benjamin led her across the office to a little door. It had been—at one point—little more than a closet… a large closet, but not used for anything more than storage.

  “No, you need an actual space to work in,” Benjamin told her. “Of course...I also want to keep you close to me when working.” He opened the door to reveal Claire’s new office space: the oversized closet had been cleared out and a desk brought in, along with a potted plant, a seat, and a few other office items.

  “This is surprisingly nice,” Claire said, following him into the little room.

  “It was formerly a closet, so it’s not as big as what you’d normally get for this kind of job,” Benjamin admitted. “But it’s what I was able to come up with on short notice.” He watched as Claire examined her work space. She would have access to his private restroom, and of course, she would be able to speak with him whenever she needed to throughout the day. If she had any issue with being positioned so close to him, it wasn’t apparent in her appreciative glance.

  “It’s fine,” Claire said, turning to face him. She smiled slightly. “Although I could say that putting me here—instead of giving me space with your secretary downstairs—suggests to me that you want to keep me close to you as much as possible.”

  Benjamin returned her smile. “I definitely do—for reasons both professional and personal,” he said. “And I am not interested in even trying to deny it.”

  Claire chuckled. “That’s fair,” she said, looking around the tiny room again.

  “And of course you can come and go as you need to,” Benjamin told her. “If I’m in a meeting in the main office, you can pass through—I won’t mind.”

  Claire crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him levelly for a moment. “I don’t know if there will be all that many meetings you’ll be involved in that you won’t have me present anyway,” she pointed out.

  Benjamin nodded. “There wouldn’t be many, no,” he agreed. “But if you need to work independently to prepare for major meetings I’ll be having, I can safely leave you to it in here.”

  Claire shrugged, her arms still crossed over her chest. “It’s better than a cubicle, and it has some privacy. I can work here,” she said. “If I really need to be by myself to look something over, I can always just use my room.” She looked at him almost suspiciously for a moment. “That would be okay with you, right?”

  Benjamin smiled. “It would,” he told her. “I’m not putting you in this office right here to try and keep you trapped near me in any way. I just thought it would be convenient. Yes, I do want you near me often—mostly in a completely professional capacity—but the rules I told you I have for myself still stand. I will never make a move on you of any kind unless there’s some indication from you that you want it.”

  One of Claire’s eyebrows moved up slightly, but she didn’t refute him. “It’s almost time for that meeting you want me to attend with you, isn’t it?”

  Benjamin took out his phone and checked the time. He saw that she was, in fact, right. They needed to get downstairs and meet up with the reps from the online gambling company.

  “So you’re clear on what you’re going to be doing?”

  Claire nodded. “I take mental notes—maybe a few notes on my phone—and play along with what you hav
e to say,” Claire said. “Seems pretty simple.”

  Benjamin smiled at her again. “It seems that way, but I’m going to need you to pretend to be very well-informed and to go along with me—roll with the punches without giving it away,” he said. “That’s just the first part of it. I’ll tell you the second part of what I need you to do after.”

  Claire looked at him in consternation. “I want you to remember what you promised me,” she said slowly.

  “Nothing to do with sex,” Benjamin told her. “After we’re done having drinks and talking business, when you and I go to dinner together, I’ll tell you the other part of it, which won’t have anything at all to do with having sex with me or with any of the men you’ll be meeting tonight. That I promise.”

  Claire uncrossed her arms and looked at him levelly for a moment before relenting. “I can do that, then,” she said.

  Benjamin wanted to roll his eyes, but at the same time, he could—somewhat—understand why she was so dubious. He had, in essence, partially enslaved her. She would never be working more than maybe fifty hours in a week at most, and probably more like thirty, for the salary she was going to be making.

  It was a highly technical job in the broadest parts of its scope, but the most important thing was for her to represent herself as an associate of his, someone who would accompany him to these kinds of business meetings and outings and come across as someone whose approval also needed to be sought, beyond Benjamin’s own.

  “Okay, let’s go meet these guys,” Benjamin said, turning to leave Claire’s office. He kept a small distance between them, as much to keep her comfortable as to prevent himself from giving in to the temptation to touch her… to caress her arm, or hold her hand, any of the little gestures of familiarity that he felt himself not-quite-itching to make. He told himself that it would become easier over time, but he wasn’t sure if he really believed that.