by Ella Miles
He grins at me when he sees my expression. I look down at how I’m dressed. Shit! I’m in a dress, a nice dress. I was expecting formal Killian. All I’ve ever seen him in is suits. I thought that’s what he would wear since he came straight from work to pick me up. He’s not.
“What’s wrong, princess?” he asks smugly.
“I need to change,” I say. I turn to run back into my bedroom to change.
He grabs my arm. “No time.”
He pulls me into the hallway, and I hear the hotel door shut behind me before I can protest. We enter the elevator, and he presses the button for the ground floor. I can’t look at him. I’m too embarrassed.
Scarlett helped me decide what to wear. She told me to wear this black lace dress that is slightly see-through, so I did. I shouldn’t have.
“I like your hair like this.” His thumb caresses my exposed neck due to my hair being styled on top of my head.
I quickly forget why I’m supposed to be embarrassed when he is looking at me like this. I lick my bottom lip, preparing for the kiss that always follows that look.
“I like that it gives me better access to your neck.” He softly kisses me on my neck but doesn’t do anything further.
Instead, he grabs my hand, and when the doors open, we walk out of the elevator and onto the casino floor. I let go of his hand as we walk through the casino. Several employees nod their heads at us in recognition—except they don’t recognize me. They are acknowledging Killian. I’m surprised to see a smile on most of their faces when they see him. They seem to like him. He’s probably a good boss, firm yet fair. I might be making a huge mistake, trying to take that away from the company, but I’m not trying to take it away. I’m just trying to improve upon that—whether that’s with me or someone else.
We exit the casino into the warm Vegas air. Killian comes to an abrupt stop. I expect him to have changed his mind. I expect him to decide we should spend the whole date back in my hotel room or go to his place, wherever that is.
“I should have let you change. Can you walk in those?” He points to my black high heels.
“Yes, I can walk just fine in these.” I’m surprised that he didn’t order a car.
He raises his eyebrow. “You couldn’t walk in them the other night.”
“I had too much to drink that night. Trust me, I’ll be fine. I’ve walked enough catwalks with heels twice as high and tighter dresses than this, all while being blasted with flashing lights. I’ll be fine.” The first part isn’t true. I didn’t have too much to drink that night. My body was just reacting to Killian’s stare as he walked me to his hotel room that night.
It’s the same stare he has on his face again as his eyes travel over my body before landing on my black bra that is visible beneath my dress.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to imagine you with less clothes or tighter clothes. I can’t imagine it. I’m going to need a show later.”
“This was a mistake.”
I turn to go back to my room, but he stops me.
“I’m kidding. Relax, princess.” He breathes slowly in and out, trying to get me to imitate him.
I roll my eyes at him.
“I’m just trying to make you smile, and apparently, I’m doing a terrible job. I’m a bit out of practice.” His eyes stay transfixed on mine.
I laugh. This guy is unbelievable.
His lips curl up slightly at the sight of me laughing. He looks around to find the cause of my laughter. “What’s so funny?”
“You are. You don’t expect me to believe that you haven’t taken a different girl out every night. I bet you have had a different model or actress or showgirl in your bed every night this week.” I raise my eyebrows at him, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t date. At least, I haven’t in a long time. Yes, I occasionally take a woman home to my bed, but even that happens rarely.”
“Define rarely.”
He shrugs. “Once a month. Lately, less than that.”
My eyes widen at his response, but I’m not sure I believe him.
“You are telling me, you only sleep with a woman once a month or less?”
“Yes, I only fuck once a month or sometimes less.”
I wince again when he says fuck although it’s less apparent this time. That was not what I had expected.
“Why? You could have any woman you want on any night you want. You’re good-looking and intelligent. You make more money than ninety-nine percent of the population. Sure, you act like a cocky ass most of the time, but your looks more than make up for it.” I stop talking when I realize I’m rambling about all of Killian’s qualities. This is the opposite of flirting. I should just shut my mouth.
He smugly takes my hand back in his. “Come on, we have a long walk ahead if you are wearing those shoes. And I want to get to dinner on time.”
I sigh and go with him. “Why?” I ask again.
He pulls me around a group of people dressed up like the band Kiss. They are followed by a woman who’s dressed up as Dolly Parton.
Really?
I relax a little though because I’m sure, wherever we are going, I’ll be dressed appropriately. Vegas isn’t known for its tame looks. People wear whatever they want to wear here, no matter where they are going.
“Just not interested in more than that, and women always want more after I fuck them. At night, they promise they don’t want anything more than one night, but the next morning, they are begging to go out again. I hate having to fend them off. Once a month is the max I can handle.”
“Why haven’t you found the one yet? I’m sure you want to settle down and get married. Most people your age have been married for years with several kids, old man.”
He glares at me. “Just how old do you think I am?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“I’m thirty. Thirty isn’t old.”
I smile. “It is to me.”
He sighs. “God, you are such a child.”
I feel his grasp on my hand loosen. I frown. I want him to hold my hand tighter. I want him to want me. I don’t like him thinking about me as a child…except I shouldn’t want him to want me. I shouldn’t even be on this date.
“So, when is the last time you went on a date before tonight?”
Killian doesn’t look at me when he answers, “Three years.”
My jaw drops. “Three years? That’s a long time.” It’s also the same time that my father told him that he wanted Killian to marry me. Coincidence? I don’t know, but I’m too afraid to ask.
“When is the last time you went on a date?”
Eli, my high school boyfriend, was the last person I went on a date with. We dated for one year in college before he broke it off.
“It was…three years ago,” I say as I realize it.
I stare up at him, and we stop walking.
He’s looking at me like he wants to ask me the same question I want to ask him.
Did I stop dating because of him? I didn’t—well, not exactly. I didn’t know he existed yet. I didn’t know my father had already chosen. I just knew it would eventually happen.
When I don’t answer and when I don’t ask, he turns us to the building we have stopped in front of.
“We are here.”
Now, I really wish I had changed.
“What can I get you to drink?” the waitress says.
She looks tired, but when she looks down at my attire, I swear, she smirks at me.
I stare back down at the menu, hoping to God that some drink will pop out at me so that I will know what to order, but there are no drinks listed on the menu. I glance around the diner. From the looks of this place, I doubt they have the wine he’s bought me before. Actually, I doubt they have any wine. I should order a beer, but I don’t even know where to start. So, instead of answering the woman, I just stare intently at my menu.
“What do you want to drink, Kinsley?”
I look up to see Killian star
ing at me with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It’s weird to hear my name fall from his lips. I can’t recall him using it before, but I realize what he’s doing. He’s giving me exactly what I said I wanted. He’s not going to help me, not unless I beg. And I’m not above begging right now if he will help me.
I plead with my eyes for him to just order a drink for us. I pucker my lip, like Scarlett taught me.
He rolls his eyes at my look and sits up straighter, turning his attention to the waitress.
“I’ll have a Miller Lite. Bring her a Blue Moon. We will have your mountain onion ring appetizer with extra sauce. And we both want your special burger, hold the onions.”
Killian takes the menu from me and hands it to the lady, who rushes off, glad to finally be done with us.
“You really can’t make a quick decision.”
“I can.” I take a deep breath, ready to reveal something embarrassing. “I just haven’t had a lot of experience with drinking. I’ve only drunk a handful of times in my life.”
“Well, that explains a lot.”
“You didn’t have to order my dinner for me though.”
“I was afraid, if you took any longer, the waitress would end up spitting in our food. She’s obviously swamped tonight, and you were taking half an hour just to order your drink. What did you want? I’ll make sure she changes the order.”
I sigh. “I was going to order exactly what you ordered me.” My cheeks flush at the admission that he was right—again.
Killian just smiles and shakes his head.
“So, what made you choose this place? I’m guessing you don’t come here often. Doesn’t seem like it has the healthiest of menus.”
“Just wanted to get you the best burger in Vegas after I denied you one the other day.”
You denied me more than just a burger, I think as I bite my lip.
The beers and appetizer are thrust onto the table. I take a sip of the beer. It’s definitely not the Chateau Margaux wine that Killian ordered me before, but it’s drinkable. I take an onion ring off the tower before me.
“Tell me something about yourself. You might be my future husband one day, if we don’t figure a way out of this mess. I might as well know more about you.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve already figured a way out of this. You just have yet to agree to it. But, okay, I’ll play. What do you want to know?”
I take a bite as I contemplate what I want to know most. I really want to know what it would be like to be fucked by him. But I can’t go there. I fidget with the wrapper on the silverware, trying to think of a tame question.
“Where did you go to college?”
“Yale.”
“Really?”
“No,” he says, laughing. “I went to Harvard. I majored in business and then started law school there, but I didn’t finish. Instead, Felton Corporation snatched me up, and I’ve been working here ever since.”
“Did you grow up in Vegas?”
“Yes.”
Hmm, that surprises me.
“What about you? Why Yale? Why theater?”
I take a long sip of my beer. I don’t want to answer that. Instead, I try his trick. “What part of Vegas?”
“No, it’s your turn. I answered your question. Now, you answer mine. That’s how the game works.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“Whatever. I’m not answering any more questions until you answer me. Why Yale? Why theater?”
I take another sip of my beer, stalling for as long as I can until I can’t anymore. His stare pierces through me, forcing me to let go of whatever I’m hiding.
“My father. He chose Yale for me. He chose the theater major. I haven’t chosen anything that’s important in my life. Nothing of this life is mine.”
“Why?”
I pause for just a second before I answer, “Because I loved him and could never disappoint him. Because family comes before everything.”
There’s a long pause as he lets my words sink in. He finally has the tiniest understanding of what my life is really like. Although if he really was around my dad as much as he said, he already knew. He just wanted to hear it from me.
“I’m sorry.”
I quizzically look at him.
“I’m sorry that your life has never been your own.”
I shrug as I keep back tears that are threatening to fall. “It’s okay. It’s been a good life.”
His eyes are intense, as intense as I think I’ve ever seen them, as he says the next words, “But it’s not your life. That’s what I’m trying to give you—a chance to find your own life.”
“What makes you think I want that?” I let my eyes drift to my lap as I tuck a fallen curl behind my ear.
“Because I do.”
My eyes immediately go back to his. I don’t know if he meant he wants that for me or he wants that for himself. But I feel like he just poured his heart out to me while sitting in a grungy diner.
“Two specials,” our waitress snaps as she thrusts two plates of the biggest burgers I have ever seen in front of us.
When I glance back up at Killian, the moment is gone. It’s passed. It doesn’t keep me from wondering as I dig into my burger what Killian is hiding.
“I can’t believe you ate that entire thing,” he says while knocking on a hotel door.
“I was hungry, and that was delicious. I can’t believe you didn’t eat the entire thing.”
He scrunches his face in disgust. “It was a pile of grease. We will probably both be sick tomorrow because of it.”
I laugh. He’s way too serious to relax. I bet he eats every nutrient his body needs and nothing more.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
But I’m too late. The door opens, and a man slaps Killian on the back.
“Kill, you made it!” The man looks quickly to me and then back to Killian. “Who is this?” he asks Killian while staring at me.
“This is my date for tonight, Kinsley.”
I notice that Killian intentionally leaves off my last name.
I appreciate it. Enough people in this town know my name that I don’t want to be stereotyped before this person even gets to know me.
“Kinsley, this is Grant Brampton, my best friend and one of the best poker players west of the Mississippi.”
Grant tips his hat as Killian talks, making me giggle. He takes my hand and softly kisses it, eyeing Killian. I laugh harder as I notice Killian glaring at Grant. He knows exactly what he is doing—pissing Killian off. I like Grant already.
“Come in. The game is about to start,” Grant says.
I follow Killian into the hotel room, except this room has been turned into a makeshift poker room. There is a large circular table in the center with decks of cards and chips stacked perfectly on one end. The kitchen has been turned into a mini bar. I notice three other men standing around with drinks in their hands.
“Everyone, this is Kinsley,” Killian says.
Everyone says, “Hey,” back with obvious curious stares as to why Killian has brought a date to a boys’ night.
I’m curious of that myself. My hands are shaking slightly. I’m beginning to feel more confident around Killian, but a roomful of guys I don’t know makes me uneasy.
“Killian, I can go home. I didn’t mean to intrude on boys’ night.”
“Nah, they don’t care. They’ll be happy to have someone good-looking to look at while I take all their money. Plus, if we didn’t go out tonight, I’m not sure of the next night that I’m available to go out.”
My heart sinks a little at his words. There’s not going to be a second date. Or if there is, it’s going to be a long time from now.
“This is Stephen Mann. He’s my brother-in-law.”
I shake Stephen’s hand. I didn’t know Killian had a sister.
“And that’s Marvin and Benny. They both suck at poker.”
Marvin throws popcorn at Killian. Killian runs over and pr
etends to tackle Marvin. It’s strange, seeing Killian like this—relaxed and playful. I know he’s called me a walking contradiction, but I’m beginning to see him the same way. He’s serious and stern, one minute, and then playful and joking, the next.
“All right, settle, you two,” Grant says. “It’s time for you to lose some money.” He pulls up another seat. “You can sit here,” he says to me, holding on to the chair he just pulled up to the table.
“Thanks,” I say, smiling, as I take a seat. I fold my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking.
Grant takes a seat on my left as Killian takes a seat on my right. All of the other men take their seats in the remaining chairs.
Marvin starts distributing chips to everyone in equal measure. When he gets to me, he asks, “You in?”
I glance to Killian, but he doesn’t say anything. I notice his shoulders tense a little, but I think he would have said something if he didn’t want me to play.
“Sure,” I say.
“It’s a hundred dollar minimum bet. Are you sure?” Marvin says.
I smile politely. “I’m sure.”
“We will make Killian pay up when she loses,” Grant jokes.
I want to tell Grant he’s wrong, that I don’t intend to lose, but I can’t. I haven’t played poker in years, and I’m a terrible liar. Father always used to say that poker isn’t about bluffing or telling the truth. It is about strategy and numbers. It’s about knowing your odds. It’s that simple.
Grant smiles at me. Marvin starts dealing out cards to everyone.
Killian leans over to whisper in my ear, “Do you know how to play Texas Hold ’em?”
“I know the basics. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
I glance at my cards and wait for my turn. I quickly calculate my outs and odds. When it gets to me, I call. I have a thirty-five percent chance of winning, and the pot odds are thirty percent.
All the men call the initial hundred-dollar bet.
“What do you do, Kinsley?” Grant asks me.
I watch the initial flop. I get another nine to match my pair of nines. I want to smile, but I don’t. I try to keep my emotions as neutral as possible as I begin counting my outs and odds again.
I answer Grant, “I’m a model.”
