by Nella Tyler
It was difficult to take everything in with one glance. At the far end, a fire burned in a massive stone fireplace. Facing the fireplace was a maroon-colored overstuffed sofa. The room was filled with beautiful bookcases, tapestry rugs, and what looked like expensive oil paintings on the wall. The floor was light oak wood, highly polished to a sheen. As Ben took my hand and guided me further into the room, I saw that a table in front of the sofa was completely decked out in hors d'oeuvres, champagne on ice, and two crystal fluted glasses beside it.
Everything in the room boasted elegance and money. Gold filigree crown molding, gold flecked fleur-de-lis designs on heavy white wallpaper, the wood mantelpiece and other pieces of furniture a deep, rich, mahogany. For some reason, I found the room off-putting. It was beautiful, yes, but for my taste, rather ostentatious and flagrant in design. Why had he brought me here instead of the more comfortable living room we usually sat in?
I glanced at Ben, but he merely looked around, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He obviously felt proud of this room. I found it rather overbearing, but to be polite, said nothing. Even for him, this room seemed to be a little bit too much. It screamed money, wealth, and privilege. And I knew that with privilege often came eccentric and sometimes illegal behavior. Still, I was curious, and allowed him to guide me to the sofa. I sat down and watched while he popped the champagne and then poured us each a glass, waiting for the fizz to settle.
Then, he carefully handed me a glass, and then took one himself. He sat next to me, crossed his legs, and casually placed his arm behind me on the couch. "What are we celebrating?" I asked. Certainly that was the reason for this room, this atmosphere, and the champagne?
He smiled a knowing smile, and it almost appeared to me as if he had puffed his chest out with confidence. To me, the gesture hinted of a hint of arrogance, manipulation, perhaps even a little conniving and entitlement. I tried to tamp down the feeling. I shouldn’t think that way of Ben. But what was going on?
"I have a business proposition for you," he grinned. "As a matter of fact, I think you're going to be quite excited, and there's no way that you're going to say no."
I wasn't sure I like the sound of this already. A business proposition? I had no collateral or experience in business of negotiations. "Ben, I have nothing to offer any business relationship."
He made a face, and then, leaning forward with excitement, so close to me that I smelled the champagne on his breath, he said the words that shocked me to the core.
"I'd like to make a deal with you, Maggie," he began, his voice tinged with excitement. "Not only will this deal enable you to have access to my money, as much of it as you want, but can also enable you to make some of your own. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
I was stunned, speechless. I had already told him that I didn't want to be a kept woman, or a woman who demanded access to any man's bank account. "What do you want me to do, Ben?” I asked, confused.
He leaned yet closer still, a secretive smile on his face. "If you'll help me at the casino, you and I can make more money than you ever imagined in your wildest dreams."
I stared at him, not sure if first I understood what he was saying. If I'd help him at the casino? "You're asking me to help you at the casino?" He nodded, his smile broadening, as if the words bothered him not one bit. I froze.
Then, very slowly, I placed my untouched champagne on the table. I understood. He wanted me to help him cheat at the Blackjack table. I knew it. My heart sank. I had never felt so disappointed, disgusted, or discouraged in years, not since discovering my husband in bed with a woman. The pain took me by surprise, and it was then that I realized that I had started developing feelings for Ben – real feelings. I had just begun to trust him, to believe in him.
And now this. For a minute I felt like crying, but then I grew so infuriated I wanted to slap that smile right off his face.
The Billionaire’s Bluff #3
Chapter 1
To say I was stunned would be the understatement of the year. I stared at Ben for what seemed like forever, my thoughts whirring, trying to form a response without success. I think by blood pressure rose – how could it not – nearly immediately, but then at the same time, I felt a cold sensation rush through me. I knew it! I knew I should've never gotten involved with Ben. I knew I shouldn't have started to like him, or, as I was afraid of happening, that I had begun to fall for him. You see, this is what always happens to me.
Disappointment. Heartache. Yet, this was even worse. I couldn't believe what I had heard. And there he sat, looking up at me, a perfectly innocent expression on his face, smiling in expectation of my reply. So, he thought that if I helped him at the casino, I could share his money and even make some of my own? What the hell made him think I wanted to share his money?
"Well, say something?"
I shook my head, still not believing what I was hearing. Instead of speaking, I stood up, still reeling with a sense of shock. I was appalled! "How can you ask me to do something like that?" I demanded, trying to keep the pain, the disappointment, and the hurt out of my voice. He frowned, confused.
"You're offended."
It wasn't a question – it was a statement. I nodded. "You can bet the hell I am!" I replied, my voice shaking. "You're asking me to cheat? Is that it?"
He shook his head and offered a slight laugh. "No, no, no, I'm not asking you to cheat. I'm asking you to help me cheat on the game."
"What the hell is the difference? I can’t believe this.” I shook my head. "I meant it when I said I wanted to keep our professional and personal lives separate, and you've been doing that. It's been nice. I haven't felt any pressure at work at all, despite all the eyes I feel on me all the time." I paused a moment, taking a step toward the edge of the coffee table, away from the champagne, the hors d'oeuvres, everything set out just perfectly. I swept my arm toward it. "Is that what this is all about? Buttering me up?"
“Maggie, just listen to me for a minute," he said. He also stood, stepping closer.
When I held up my hand, I saw that it was trembling. "I can't believe you asked me to do this, Ben." Even to my own ears my voice sounded plaintive.
"It's not like you're not going to benefit from the arrangement," he explained. "Actually, there's a lot that you can do."
“So, the thought of cheating doesn't even bother you in the least?" I asked. I said the words that had bothered me for quite a while. "You are counting cards, aren’t you?"
He nodded with a smile, as if proud. "I have been," he freely admitted. "And, I'm getting quite good at it, too, but I think that the pit bosses are catching on. That's why I’ve been losing more frequently lately."
"I was suspicious you were counting cards and cheating, Ben, but I didn't want to believe it. But I can guarantee you, if I noticed it, and the pit bosses have probably noticed it, you can bet the cameras in the sky and management knows it, too. You can get into a lot of trouble."
"But that's just it, Maggie, I haven't. I have learned how to balance things out, so to speak. Just when they start to get suspicious of me, I start losing again." He shrugged. “Besides, there's no reason and no argument why we can’t work together. I promise you won't get caught."
"Getting caught is the least of my concerns, Ben," I said. “Because I have no intention of helping you cheat.” I stood frozen near the end of the coffee table, staring around at the opulent room, the hors d'oeuvres and champagne and the glasses on the coffee table, and then at Ben. He was so handsome, so charming, and so desirable. But he was a cheater! He was counting cards, not just to challenge himself in private, but to cheat the casino – the casino where I worked! Even worse, he was asking me to cheat along with him! Was he crazy?
"Ben, what kind of a person do you think I am, that I would agree to cheat or to helping someone cheat?" It was as if he didn't understand the question. “I work there, Ben! I work there! In all the years I’ve worked there, I’ve never been tempted, and no one, not a soul, has ever aske
d me to cheat! What… Why would you think-”
"But, Maggie, you can make some good money,” he replied, unfazed. “You can't be making that much at the casino. I know the dealers don't make much, just barely over minimum wage, plus tips, and I know that a lot of people are stingy with tips, even when they win big.”
I stared at him with dumbfounded amazement. It was incredible that he was saying such a thing – as if what I made left me more vulnerable to his request – maybe it would for some dealers, but not me. Not ever. He continued, as if his comments were more than reasonable.
“The casino takes most of the money right off the top of all the winnings. Don't you think that the casino owes you more than you've gotten from them? More than you owe them in loyalty?" He shook his head. "They're probably bringing in billions of dollars a year. They don’t care about you, Maggie. Why should you care about them? What's a few thousand here and there?"
I shook my head. He couldn't possibly be this dense. "Ben," I said, speaking as slowly as I could, and enunciating each word as I said it. "You are asking me to cheat."
"Yes," he said, as if he was answering a question about the color of the sky.
I stared at him. "And you don't find anything wrong about that? Nothing wrong about asking me that kind of a question? Requesting that I do such a thing?"
He shrugged, as though confused by my question. "No, why should I?"
"Because it isn't right!" I exclaimed, extremely frustrated. "Do you have no concept of right and wrong? Do you think money gives you the right to do anything you want?” I didn’t wait for him to respond. “Do you always go around doing whatever you want without even thinking about the consequences or repercussions because you have money to fall back on? Do you know what would happen if you got caught cheating or counting cards at the casino?" My voice rose in equal time to my increasing sense of alarm and dismay.
"Sure," he shrugged. "I'd probably be banned from the casino. No big deal. I’ll find another one."
"Probably not in Atlantic City," I answered back. “And what about me, Ben? What the hell do you think would happen to me if I lost my job there?”
“I’d take care of you, Maggie-”
“I don’t want you to take care of me! I don’t want to rely on any man to take care of me!” I exclaimed, my voice choked with pain and fury.
“I didn’t mean it that way, Maggie-”
“You really don’t care if you get into trouble, do you? You find it all rather exciting, don’t you?” I felt horrified. He was so casual about it all, so lackadaisical. I didn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand it.
Again, he shrugged as if it didn't matter. "There are plenty of casinos all over the country – the world for that matter."
I felt sick to my stomach. A headache started to pound behind my eyes. He wanted to use me. He wanted to make me feel as if the casino owed me something. No, I didn't make a lot of money, sometimes barely enough to cover my expenses, but it was a good honest living. I wasn't a cheater. I held my breath and counted to ten before I spoke again. Slowly and succinctly.
"After I got divorced, Ben, I had absolutely nothing to fall back on. Nothing. That's-"
"Don't you see, Maggie? If you help me, and we do this together, you'll never have to worry about that again. You'll be able to find a nicer apartment, have nicer things-"
"Stop it! Just stop it!" I shook my head, tried to blink back the warmth of tears I felt forming behind my eyelids. "I thought you understood me, Ben… I thought you got me."
He stared up at me in stunned dismay. "Maggie, I'm not sure-"
"I quit school when I got married, Ben, and so I didn't have any skills or education to fall back on, nothing that I could use in practical experience to get a decent paying job. You know who was willing to give me a chance, to train me, to offer me a steady paycheck?" He said nothing. "The casino. The casino! They may not pay the best in the world, but at least it's paycheck, Ben.” I paused to catch my breath. To calm my rising temper.
“You may not know what it's like to have to try and earn a paycheck week after week, but I'll tell you something. The casino has been good to me. They give me sick days when I need them, they give me extra shifts when I ask, and pretty soon, after I put in another six months, I’ll have my pick of shifts. Then, I’m going onto days so I can start going to school at night. That's what the casino has done for me."
He shook his head. "It's not enough, Maggie. Do you want to work there for the rest of your life, living paycheck to paycheck?"
I nearly choked on my anger. "Of course I don't, Ben! I want a good job, a job that offers me security now and in the future. I want a job that will enable me to afford a house someday. Maybe teaching. Maybe as a nurse. I don't know yet. Right now, all I'm trying to do is survive!"
"But, Maggie, I can help!"
"I'm not a cheater, Ben, don’t you get it? If I make money, it's going to be the honest way. You're trying to use me to help you cheat. Is that what this is all about?" I swept my arm over the room, the hors d'oeuvres, and the champagne, then at him. "Is that what you've been doing all along – pretending that you like me, trying to buy my favor with all that stuff you bought for the apartment? Taking me out? Seducing me?" He lifted a hand to interrupt me, but I stopped him. "No, Ben, I don't want to hear it. Because right now, all I feel is used. You just want to use me!"
"Maggie-"
"No, Ben, I don't want to hear another word." I began to walk toward the door. "I'm leaving. And so you have your answer. No. No, I'm not going to help you cheat. God, don't you realize how much trouble you could get me into? You may be able to buy your way out of just about anything, but I don't have that luxury."
I turned my back and made my way out of the room. He followed me into the hallway as I headed for the front door.
"Maggie, I'm sorry… I didn’t mean to… Let me get you home."
I turned and glared at him. I was so furious I was sure my face was red as a beat. "You're sorry? I can't believe you, Ben. Sometimes you can be so arrogant, so manipulative…as if money has corrupted you, made you think that you could do anything you please and get away with it, which you probably can, but that isn't what I'm all about."
I continued to head toward the front door. "And I don't need anything from you. Not your charity, not your handouts, and certainly not a ride. I don't want anything from you, Ben. It's become baldly apparent to me that the one thing I do want from you it's impossible for you to give."
He followed me. "What do you mean, Maggie? I can give you anything your heart desires!"
"I don't think you can even grasp what I'm talking about, Ben." I opened the front door. "I'm leaving. Don't follow me." With that, I stepped outside and slammed the door behind me. My heart pounding, I made my way down his driveway, along the same route that I had taken once before when I caught the bus into town.
On the way down his street, my rage turned into pain and I began to weep softly, constantly brushing tears from my eyes. I couldn't believe it. So that's what all this was about? The gifts, the dates, the expensive food, the Jacuzzi, all of it… Well, he had succeeded, to a degree. He'd gotten me to feel something for him, and here I was, once again nursing heartache and pain, the exact situation that I had until now, successfully managed to keep away from. Damn him! Damn his good looks. Damn his charisma! And most of all, damn his stinking and manipulative arrogance!
To think that I would even consider cheating for him or with him! What the hell? He had asked it as simply as he would ask for one of the hors d'oeuvres prepared on the platter in front of his couch. How long had he been cheating? Had my suspicions been correct from the beginning? I didn't like to think so.
I arrived at the bus stop and only had to wait for a few minutes before it arrived. I swiped my bus card that I kept for emergencies – thank goodness – and climbed on, finding a seat way in the back in the shadows where nobody could see me. For the duration of the bus ride, I let the tears fall down my cheeks unabated.
Oh my God, this was the last thing that I had expected when he had brought me into that ostentatious room.
During the bus ride, I not only felt the ultimate in foolishness and overwhelmed by a sense of betrayal, but I grew increasingly furious that he had the nerve to ask me to do such a thing. How dare he? What a fool he must think I was, such as easy mark just because I barely made over minimum wage? Of course, he would flirt and give gifts to a blackjack dealer, assess their reaction, see if they could potentially use them to help him cheat. Is that all he had seen in me? A willing accomplice? Was that all I was to him?
When we had made love – no, when we had had sex, I thought that he had really cared for me. Now, I second-guessed everything. The fact that I had allowed myself to gain pleasure, to think that I had even felt a niggling that something new and exciting was starting between us made me feel like such a fool. I had been played. Ben had played me as well as he played the cards. And I had fallen for it: hook, line, and sinker as my mom used to say.
By the time I got home, I felt mentally exhausted. All I wanted to do was sleep, but my mind was spinning. After staring at the ceiling for two hours, and as it was approaching two o'clock in the morning, I finally caved and got up and went into the bathroom. Savannah had given me a couple of Xanax when she had her prescription filled a couple of months ago, and although I didn't typically succumb to the urge, I took one. I needed to get rid of some of this horrible anxiety I felt, this pain. I needed to sleep.
I paced around the apartment for about ten minutes or so until I began to feel the effects of the Xanax. It was definitely taking the edge off, and I did feel a little bit more relaxed. I finally went back to the bedroom and climbed between my sheets, trying to push any and all thoughts of Ben and what he had asked me this evening out of my mind. Finally, I felt myself falling into a restless sleep.
*
I woke up the following morning, my eyes swollen from crying. To my dismay, I had also cried in my sleep, evidenced by the stain of tears I saw on my cheeks when I looked in the mirror when I got up. My heart felt heavy, but I would be damned if I would continue to allow a man – any man – affect me in such a way. I thought I had learned my lessons with my ex, but apparently, I still had homework to do in that department.
