by Daphne Dawn
It doesn’t matter to me, or to Roger for that matter, what our customers’ stories are, how fantastic or horrible they say they are.
Roger and I sell fantasies. If these men and women want to pay for the privilege of endless drinks, fawning service, and everyone believing their tall tales, then so be it.
But Sienna doesn’t make sense in this world. She doesn’t belong here.
It has been ten years since we last saw each other.
Ten years since I promised I’d be back after I’d conquered some small part of the world.
And I did conquer. I conquered New York and now I’m winning Vegas.
But I never went back.
Even after I read in the papers along with the rest of the world how the Reid mines had been shut down and their assets had been seized.
I didn’t go back even after I read how Mr. Reid retreated from the spotlight and spent the last of their once vast fortune trying to stay out of prison.
I read how Jax took his schooling and his contacts and used them to get into politics.
I followed his elections, first to the House of Representatives and now the U.S. Senate, and how he vowed to clean up corporate kickbacks to government officials. Those kickbacks his father used to keep his family in business. He lambasted his father in the media throughout the campaign.
“I know how the rich guys think,” Jax said in one debate. “I was raised at their feet. But I’m not one of them, I know how to defeat them and fight back for the people.”
The people whispered that Mr. Reid had lost his mind and slipped willingly into dementia.
I knew all of this, but still I didn’t go back to Sienna.
I didn’t call her or email her.
I knew she had to cope alone.
I didn’t go back.
Now it’s been so long since we’ve been in the same room, I didn’t immediately recognize her.
My eyes are drawn to her golden dress. It must be made through some sort of sorcery, the fabric is so fine. It ripples over her like liquid gold.
The dress looks as if it was made for her. It hugs her hips and ass and falls over her tits like second skin.
I should have known her at a glance, but the black hair threw me.
Disguising yourself from me, Golden?
Seeing her smile, I know instantly it is Sienna. For one drawn out minute everything rushes back.
The pit manager is asking me something, but I can’t understand what she wants.
The only thing I can think is that Sienna is here.
Then I see Roger.
Sienna doesn’t see me until she turns around, empty champagne flute in hand, and our eyes connect.
What are you going to say to me, girl? How are you going to explain yourself?
I stalk toward her. I want to demand she get out.
But then I realize she doesn’t need to explain herself to me. She’s been taking care of herself for a long time—who am I to demand anything from her?
Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.
I can see she’s bracing herself for confronting me, but I change course.
I’m hunting Roger now.
I’ve let him work out of here for too fucking long. Selling nights with his women to people more interested in how they appear to the world than how they act in the world.
Selling a night of companionship to people too busy bringing in money to know that they’re sad, lonely, and pathetic.
Now Roger will be selling Sienna to a Spaniard with a shady past or to the film producer with the jowls and nose full of broken capillaries, the one known for cornering actresses in hallways and forcing them into his hotel room.
In theory, the women of the Inner Sanctum don’t have to sleep with their clients. Roger’s modelled the Inner Sanctum on geishas.
His employees are smart and cultured. They’re trained to be able to defend themselves against perverts like the film producer. They’re supposed to act like girlfriends and wives, but sex isn’t required.
The women can choose who they allow to touch them, whom they allow inside their rooms, their beds, themselves. The price is high, and Roger’s women are supposed to enjoy themselves.
I picture Sienna playing this game in one of my hotel’s beds. Her head is thrown back, her mouth open, back arched high. She’s moaning, a man’s head is between her legs and she’s in ecstasy.
I want to fucking break something.
It’s just your imagination. I can’t calm myself down though because I’m right behind Roger now. Before I can stop myself, my hand is wrapping like a vise around his arm. I yank him around to face me.
He stumbles and then regains his balance.
“What are you doing, Roger?” I hiss.
Roger looks down at my hand around his arm, his expression totally unruffled.
“Why Leo,” he says, “how can I calm—I mean, how can help you?”
“What are you doing here?” I say. “You know you can’t be openly working the floor.”
“Don’t worry, Leo,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’m not recruiting anyone. I’m just introducing my newest employee to potential clients.”
He pauses, scrutinizing me. “Would you like to meet her?”
I don’t trust my voice. I gather myself. I straighten my spine to the whole of my six foot two inch frame. I nod.
“Of course,” I say curtly. “I need to know all your employees.”
Roger leans towards me. “You’ll love this one, Leo,” he whispers. “She’s just your type.” He winks at me, like he fucking knows. I want to hit him hard.
“Watch yourself, Roger,” I say, my voice soft.
After a pause, Roger smiles.
“Come on,” he says cajolingly.
I follow him back to the table where Sienna is leaning. She’s been watching us the whole time.
“Leo Asher, meet Sienna Reid,” says Roger, his voice booming. “She’s new, but I think she has a lot of potential and promise. Sienna, this is Leo—he owns this palace and has supported the Sanctum for many, many years.”
She extends her hand for me to take. I grip it, trying not to crush it. I can see the pulse in her neck racing, though her expression is controlled.
“Sienna Reid,” I murmur. “Of all the gin joints.”
“Leo Asher,” she replies. “As I live and breathe.”
We don’t say anything for a moment. I let my eyes take in the contours of her face.
She’s taking in all of me, I can feel her eyes moving down my body. I wonder what she’s seeing. What she’s thinking.
“I didn’t realize,” Roger says, amused. “You two know each other?”
I nod, but keep my eyes on the woman with the golden eyes standing in front of me. “We grew up together. My father worked for her family.”
Sienna smiles at Roger. “I seem to have lost my drink. Buy me another?”
But before he can, I signal to one of the cocktail servers and ask her to bring two drinks—a champagne for her and a scotch rocks with a twist for me.
Roger takes the hint and says something about checking one of his girls who’s working a new client. He leaves us.
We’re alone for the first time in a decade. I want to grab her, pull her against me, maybe throw her over my shoulder and haul her up to my penthouse. But I grit my teeth and grip my drink instead.
“Last I heard, you wanted to be a lawyer,” I say. “Didn’t realize you changed careers, or is this the cliché about having to earn money to get through law school? Is that what’s happening here?”
I sip my drink and smile at her condescendingly. “If that’s the problem, I can give you all the money you could ever want.”
Her eyes flash. I’ve insulted her. I watch her wrestle with herself to keep her temper in check. She was always quick to anger…and quick to forgive.
“And the last I heard,” she says, “you were only going to be gone for a few months and back with a foolproof plan.”
She sm
iles slowly. “Now that we’ve established that minds can be changed and plans can be altered, what else would you like to talk about?”
“Sienna—”
I’m about to lash out at her, tell she doesn’t have a fucking clue what she’s talking about, but she doesn’t let me start.
“What is it, Leo? What are you going to say?” she says, her eyes flashing. “You left. Life went on. You don’t get to judge me. You don’t get to belittle my choices. You’re taking money from Roger, too. He gives you a cut on what his women bring in. You’re benefitting from this, too. And, even if you weren’t, you’re taking money from the same people I’ll be taking money from. You’re not different than me. You’ve sold out, too. And, hey, we both do that with our clothes on.”
“But you—” I shift so I’m towering over her. “You’re better than this.”
“But me?” Sienna moves toward me, not intimidated by my size or my anger. She places one hand on my chest, smoothing down the lapel of my suit. Even through my layers of clothing, the heat of her touch sears me as if she’s branded me.
She looks up at me through her black lashes. “But me, I get to ask my clients to give me pleasure first. I get to feel desired every time I go to work. Even better, I get to desire. I don’t just get paid, I’m not just making money. My job is just not about getting other people hard. It’s about me getting wet.” She licks her lips. “That’s what you don’t seem to understand.”
Her words both arouse and infuriate me. Fuck, thinking about Sienna, wet and wanting, is something I’m intimately familiar with.
But for someone else? That makes me want to put my fist through a wall.
“Leo, I’m not the girl you left behind,” she says, sounding tired. Then she turns and walks toward Roger, leaving me staring after her.
I know, baby. God, I fucking know.
Sienna
Seeing Leo throws me off my game. I feel my confidence slipping, like the wind's been knocked out of me. The room is spinning.
As I approach Roger’s side, I grab his arm to steady myself.
Smiling down at me with a lecherous look in his eyes, he holds my hand a little too tightly and leads me across the room to introduce me to more of the crème de la crème of Las Vegas society and takes my attempt to stand as an advance on him.
Was it just minutes ago that I was feeling optimistic about working for Roger at Alchema’s Inner Sanctum? A brand-new escort making the rounds in the most exclusive place I could possibly be. That hopeful feeling vanishes as I struggle to catch my breath and my footing.
Now I’m a jumble of nerves, my mind reeling from what just happened.
The way Leo looked at me…so angry and judgmental. The way his voice practically dripped with condescension. Who the hell is he to judge what I’m doing?
Instead of feeling anticipation about where the night will lead like I did only moments before, I feel a heavy weight settle in the pit of my stomach.
As Roger leads me around, his hand resting on my hip, Leo's hard gaze bores into me from across the room. Wherever I go, his eyes follow. I don’t even have to look to know it’s true—that’s how aware I am of his commanding presence.
I can only imagine what he's thinking right now seeing me like this, dressed up with the sole purpose of attracting a client.
Though I don’t really have to imagine what he thinks.
He made it clear, practically coming right out and accusing me of being a whore. Sure, he didn’t say those words, but the implication was heavy.
What did I expect? He only knows the girl I used to be, and I’m not that girl anymore.
My fingers are tingling from where I rested them on his chest. The way he looked at me when I did that, I swear I saw a flash of heat cross his eyes.
Right before they blazed with fury when I talked about pleasuring my clients.
What I really wanted to do was curl my fingers around his shirt and pull him to me and show him just how much I’ve changed in the past ten years.
I’ve learned what I like and I know how to ask for it. When I looked at him, I was ready to do more than ask. I was ready to take, and see where it led.
I try to collect myself and not think about Leo, who treated me like shit at our little reunion.
You’re better than this.
Still, his words echo in my head.
It’s not like I’ve chosen this because it’s all I ever dreamed of. I've been thrust into this life by default because of my family's financial ruin.
Once the socialite and part of the upper echelon of society, now I’m the pauper instead of Leo. The help’s son…the tables have certainly turned.
"Sienna? Are you listening?" Roger is saying to me.
I blink, pulled from my thoughts. "What? Um, yes. Yes, I am."
"Okay good. Now, that's Mr. Peterson over there at the blackjack table. He's a regular patron, so make him feel special if he talks to you."
The man looks our way and raises a glass to me, and I nod my head and smile, slowly, seductively, in acknowledgment.
"Okay good, he's seen you. He's one of our clients with the deepest pockets, Sienna, so use this chance to shine." He gives my hip an encouraging squeeze, then lets it fall away slowly as he nudges me toward Mr. Peterson.
I'm here to work and I want to work. I am not here to worry about the ghost of an old life.
I can do this.
I smooth my hands over my dress and try to appear confident. Try to draw on some of that empowerment I was feeling before Leo swooped in and left me staggered.
I leave Roger's side and make my way over to the blackjack tables. If all goes well, this evening could end with a big paycheck coming my way.
"Hello, sir,” I say, pitching my voice low and seductive. “I'm Sienna."
I turn on the charm, going for an air of mystery.
If there's one thing I can do, it's make men swoon. When you grow up in a patriarchal household like I did, you learn the ropes of how to get your way as a woman, sometimes with nothing more than a touch and a smile.
My father had hundreds of elite parties over the years. More often than not I’d blow off his rich friends and their sons because I could afford to be snobby.
Now I’m at the beck and call of the very same type of men.
When Mr. Peterson reaches for me, it’s a bit more unnerving than I expect it to be.
I keep the smile firmly in place, though. "Mr. Peterson is it? I must say, you know how to wear a suit.” I want to laugh at the ridiculous statement falling from my lips, but instead just let my hand glide along the rich fabric as I take his arm. "Please, can you show me around? This is my first time here."
His eyes spark as he hears this, like he can’t wait to sample the newest item on the menu. "Of course. Sienna, is it? Let me get you a drink. A woman as beautiful as you should never be without a man waiting to provide you the very best."
Cue the inner eye roll.
He waves down one of the cocktail waitresses.
I envy her job right now. She doesn't have to schmooze this man who's twice her age. She can breeze right by and do her job without wondering what the patrons might ask of her later.
Me? I'll be stuck with him all night. With that thought, my mind races with a singular worry. What happens next?
As I take the glass of champagne from her, I look up and find Leo still staring at me with a dark look in his eyes.
He’s still brooding and I wonder why. Is it really about me taking a job with Roger?
Why the hell does he feel like he has any right to care about what I do? He didn’t care before when he left me heartbroken and alone.
I’m suddenly angry. He has no right to say the things he did. He obviously wanted to get under my skin with those comments.
Now I decide it's time to turn that around and to have a bit of fun with Leo. I ignore Leo and turn back to Mr. Peterson, turning up my flirting a few notches.
Let’s see what Leo thinks about that.
>
"Mr. Peterson, you look so dashing tonight.” I bat my eyelashes and look at him adoringly. “Please tell me you don't have plans. I'd love to spend the evening with you. Maybe you could teach me how to play poker?"
I know damn well how to play, but nothing gets men like this wrapped around your finger more than playing dumb.
It's how I got my father to do everything for me.
Though it’s a little disturbing that I think of this man like I would my father…and my mind travels back to the comments from the girls about Roger thinking of the girls as his daughters.
That’s what Leo thinks of me. As some girl with daddy issues now.
Whatever. It's go time.
This is supposed to be the new me, empowered and ready to do what I want with my life. I have to push any negative thoughts out of my mind and just do this.
If for no other reason than to make Leo jealous and prove to him that I don't care. That I'm over him. I want him to be the one left with want and regrets.
I refuse to go there again.
Not with him. Not for him.
Mr. Peterson leads me to the high roller poker table. I make sure to stand where Leo has a clear view of me and my new date.
It's five-card draw but I pretend not to know that as I lean over Mr. Peterson's shoulder. I make a big show of not understanding his cards and what they mean. And then I gush ridiculously when he makes a huge bet for me.
He eats it up.
"Oh, this is so exciting. Maybe a kiss for good luck?"
I bend and plant a kiss on his cheek, leaving a visible red lipstick mark. As I do, I peer back towards the bar, but Leo's gone.
Fuck. Where'd he go? I wonder if he saw my show of affection or if it was all for nothing?
I stay with Mr. Peterson all night, and make more money in those few hours than I could have in a week anywhere else.
Leo's still not around by the time the evening ends, and I don’t want to admit to myself that I’m disappointed.
I liked the feeling of him watching me, even if he was angry about it. I want his eyes on me.
Eventually, I call it quits and take my leave. Mr. Peterson was a total gentlemen and requested little more than a few kisses and for me to sit on his lap...a lot.
