Chapter 5 - Pippa
The flash of chips and the cacophony of slot machines faded into the background for all I could focus on was the red-faced man at the craps table, yelling obscenities at the dealer.
I frowned on noticing other patrons grab their chips and inch away from the table. This was bad for business.
I quickly strode over, first to check in on the dealer. “All okay, Mark?” I asked, worried for my colleague.
Mark nodded but I noticed the sweat on his forehead. “Yes, Ms. Burrows. Sir, there has been a problem. He lost all his chips and believes the table is rigged. He wants to play more, but he’s out of cash.”
I turned to the red-faced man, trying to maintain a professional demeanor despite the anger I felt toward him for causing such trouble on our premises.
He stepped closer, his hands fisting into balls. “Chips. You ought to give me more chips.”
His bloodshot eyes and the stench of whiskey on his breath told me everything I needed to know about why he was causing a scene.
"Sir, I understand you're upset, but I'm afraid I can't allow you to continue playing here at this time," I said, keeping my voice steady and professional. I smoothed down my pencil skirt, a habit when I was trying to maintain composure. I could already predict his next move. Every bet was his decision, but he’d take no responsibility. He’d call us thieves, accuse us of being greedy pigs.
To prevent that argument, I counter-argued in advance. "Perhaps we could get you a complimentary room for the night to rest?"
"Like hell, you will!" he roared, slamming his meaty fist on the blackjack table. The dealer flinched, and I instinctively stepped between them. "I'm not going anywhere until I win back what's mine!"
I took a deep breath to force my heart to slow. I'd dealt with difficult patrons before, but something about this man set me on edge. Still, I had a job to do. The Vadims trusted me to handle these situations, so that’s exactly what I would do.
"I'm sorry, but that's not possible," I replied, injecting a hint of steel into my tone. "You've exceeded your credit limit, and your behavior is disturbing other guests. Now, if you’d rather not stay the night, I'd be happy to escort you to the front desk where we can arrange transportation for you."
The man's face contorted with rage. "You think you can tell me what to do, you fat bitch?" he snarled, lurching forward.
I stood my ground, even as my stomach churned at his words. Don't let him see he's gotten to you, Pippa, I thought. You're better than this overgrown man-child.
"Sir, I'm going to have to insist you leave the premises immediately," I said, my voice sharp as a razor. "Security will be here any moment, and I'd hate for this to escalate further."
He leaned in close, his alcohol-laden breath hot on my face. "I'd like to see them try," he growled.
My heart pounded in my chest, but I refused to back down. I'd faced worse than this drunken bully, and I'd be damned if I let him intimidate me in my own casino. I raised my hand just slightly to my waist, subtly prepared to signal for security when a deep, commanding voice cut through the din.
"Is there a problem here?"
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Abe Ustinov's presence filled the boundaries of my consciousness, radiating authority. From the corner of my eye, I saw him step forward, his broad shoulders blocking my view of the aggressive player.
"This doesn't concern you," the drunk spat, but I noticed a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
Abe chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "When you threaten my staff, it becomes my concern." He moved closer, towering over the man. "Now, you have two choices. Leave quietly, or I'll personally escort you out. And trust me, you won't enjoy that option because it certainly won’t end on a polite goodbye."
And then Abe put his hand inside his coat, as though motioning at a weapon.
I watched, torn between relief and irritation, as the player's bravado crumbled under Abe's intense gaze. Without another word, he turned and stumbled toward the exit.
Abe's eyes met mine, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Problem solved."
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to snap at him. "I had it under control," I said, my voice tight.
"Of course you did, Sweetheart," he replied, his tone patronizing. "But why handle it alone when I'm here to help?"
My cheeks burned with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "I don't need your help, Abe. Not when it comes to my job!"
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my frustration. "No need to thank me. Just doing my part to keep things running smoothly."
I bit back a scathing retort, aware of the curious glances from nearby patrons. As much as I wanted to tell Abe exactly where he could shove his help, I knew this wasn't the time or place. Instead, I forced a smile and said through gritted teeth. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
I turned away, yet couldn't shake the conflicting emotions overpowering me. Part of me was grateful for Abe's intervention—the situation could have turned ugly fast. But a larger part bristled at his overbearing approach, at how easily he'd swooped in and taken control. It made me feel small, incompetent, and worst of all, it reminded me of the power imbalance between us.
I stormed into my office, my heels clicking angrily against the polished floor. The moment the door closed behind me, I let out a frustrated growl, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. I paced back and forth, my curled hair bouncing with each step, trying to burn off the excess energy thrumming through my body.
"Who does he think he is?" I muttered, pausing to straighten a picture frame on my desk with more force than necessary. “Security would have handled it. I was about to call them in!”
The door swung open, and there he was, Abrahim Ustinov in all his infuriating glory. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, his blue-gray eyes watching me like a hawk’s.
“What?” I asked, glaring at him.
"Something on your mind, Sweetheart?" he drawled, in a tone that set my teeth on edge. “You looked upset.”
I whirled to face him. "Don't 'sweetheart' me, Abe. What you did out there was completely out of line. I’ve handled difficult patrons without your intervention just fine so far."
He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. "Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you needed a hand."
I could feel my cheeks flushing with anger, the heat rising to match the fire in my words. "I've been doing this job for years. I don't need you undermining my authority in front of the entire casino floor. Do you have any idea how that makes me look?"
I took a step closer to him, my heels clicking sharply on the polished floor. "It makes me look incompetent, Abe. Like I can't handle my own job without a man stepping in to save me."
Abe's eyebrow arched, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "And here I thought I was being helpful. My mistake, princess."
The condescension in his tone made my blood boil. "Don't you dare patronize me," I snapped, jabbing a finger at his chest. "I've worked too hard to build my reputation here. I don't need you or anyone else jeopardizing that."
He caught my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. For a brief moment, I forgot my rage as I looked into his gorgeous eyes and right then, they burned with a protectiveness I didn’t expect him to have. "Easy there, wildcat. I wasn't trying to step on your toes. But when I see a situation getting out of hand and saw you could be in danger—"
"It wasn't out of hand!" I interrupted, trying to ignore the warmth of his skin against mine. "I had it under control. You just didn't give me the chance to prove it."
Abe's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "And if that drunk had decided to get physical? What then, Pippa?"
I lifted my chin defiantly, even as I felt a flutter in my stomach at his concern. "It’s a risk I was willing to take. That's part of my job."
He stepped closer, still holding my wrist, his proximity suddenly making it hard to breathe. "Your job isn't to put yourself in harm's way. That's mine."
I swallowed hard, acutely aware of how close we were standing. The scent of his cologne filled my senses, making me lose my chain of thought. My eyes flickered to his lips for a split second before I caught myself.
"I'm not some damsel in distress, Abe," I said, my voice softer now but no less determined. "I don't need saving."
His gaze softened slightly, a hint of admiration creeping into his expression. "Maybe not. But has it occurred to you that I might want to keep you safe anyway?"
The air between us crackled with tension. Abe's words hung in the air, heavy with implication. My heart raced, anger and attraction warring within me.
"I don't need you to keep me safe," I whispered, but my voice lacked conviction.
Abe's hand slid from my wrist to my waist, pulling me closer. "Maybe you do," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin.
I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Our faces were inches apart, his dark eyes boring into mine. The argument faded away, replaced by a burning need I couldn't ignore.
I stepped closer, my fist grabbing his shirt before I could stop myself.
"Abe, I—"
His lips crashed into mine, silencing whatever weak protest I was about to make. The kiss was fierce, hungry, filled with all the pent-up frustration and desire we'd been dancing around for days.
I melted into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as I kissed him back with equal fervor. His tongue swept past my lips into my mouth, and I gasped at the sensation, my knees going weak.
Abe's arm tightened around my waist, supporting me as he deepened the kiss. His other hand tangled in my hair, messing up the carefully styled curls I'd spent an hour on this morning. I couldn't bring myself to care.
My mind reeled, struggling to process the conflicting emotions coursing through me. This was Abe—infuriating, overprotective, maddeningly attractive Abe. I should be pushing him away, not pulling him closer. But god, it felt so good.
My hands trembled as they moved from Abe's shirt to his shoulders, then hesitantly to the nape of his neck. His skin was hot under my fingertips, and I felt his muscles tense at my touch as I pulled him closer and lapped at his tongue. A low growl rumbled in his chest, sending shivers down my spine.
Abe's lips left mine, trailing heated kisses along my jaw and down my neck. I tilted my head, giving him better access, a soft moan escaping me. "Abe," I breathed, my voice barely audible.
His hands roamed my curves, setting my skin on fire even through the fabric of my blouse. I arched into his touch, craving more, yet feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. I’ve never felt this way before. Never needed a man like this before.
He’d gone and given me a fever that needed curing, but did not know how. All I knew was that I wanted more.
I reached down to his belt with trembling fingers, the heat between us escalating with each passing moment. Abe's breath was ragged against my skin and he reached up beneath my skirt. I startled at the unexpected touch, as his fingers moved up my thighs, agonizingly slow, inch by inch. I felt my core flutter, and trembled so damn hard I thought I’d fall.
But, he caught me. His other hand gripped my waist and he pulled me close. My eyes widened and I looked into his as I felt his length dig into my skirt.
“So many unnecessary clothes,” he growled, biting into my neck. I tilted my head back and his fingers then pushed aside my panties. I bucked my hips, a little afraid.
Not of him. But rather, of having been inexperienced.
A low groan escaped me as his fingers found what they were looking for. He glided one up my slit, my panties digging against the back of his hand.
When he reached my clit, he gave it a soft rub and I whimpered, my hands now clutching at his back, my face thrown into his neck. “Wow,” I whispered.
His fingers ghosted over me, teasing. God, if this is how good it felt already, I couldn’t imagine how having all of him would feel. Slowly, I planted my feet wider, giving him further access.
And that's when he slid his finger to get inside me. I closed my eyes, waiting for that first-time pain I’ve always heard so much about. The tip of his finger invaded me, yet my body obeyed like a puppet, undulating to meet him.
Abe moved the tip of his finger in and out of me, occasionally flicking that magical little nub that sent jolts of electricity throughout my entire body. I squirmed against him, angels singing in my ear.
My hands then untucked his shirt and reached beneath, feeling the rock-hard edges and angles of his chest, his back. I started to rock my hips into Abe’s hand, unable to control my body's response to the teasing sensation.
"God," I whispered breathlessly, "what are you doing to me?"
The feel of Abe's finger thrusting back into me made me moan louder when his lips trailed back down to claim mine, tasting the sweetness there.
Then, he jammed into me a quarter in more. I squealed, and stood a little straighter, before falling back into his neck, reveling in this bliss. His hand left my waist, trailing up behind my leg till it trembled, till it rested on my ass.
I squeezed my legs together, partly from the thrill of how his hand felt imprinted on my ass, partly to make myself smaller. A man is holding my ass, claiming me as his, and a small voice at the back of my head wondered if I wasn’t dainty enough for me.
But then he squeezed my cheek and dear god, his finger inside me feels like it was made for my nooks. But, why wasn’t he moving it further?
“Why’d you stop?” I whispered, giving his neck a small bite.
“You’re wet but so tight.” I heard concern in his voice.
“I know,” I whisper back. “Just…go slow, will you?”
He pulled back slightly, his blue-gray eyes searching my face. "Pippa," he said, his voice husky and strained. "Have you ever…?"
I bit my lip, heat rushing to my cheeks. "I… no," I admitted, averting my gaze.
Abe inhaled sharply, taking a step back. My panty snapped back into place, my skirt fell back down. The loss of contact left me feeling cold and exposed. I wrapped my arms around myself, watching as a myriad of emotions flashed across his face—surprise and something that looked almost like… regret?
"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. The simple action shouldn't have been so attractive, but it was. "I didn't realize… I shouldn't have…"
The awkward tension in the air was palpable as Abe struggled to find the right words. I stood there, my heart pounding, unsure of what to say or do.
My stomach twisted into knots as I watched Abe's face, searching for any sign that he still wanted me. But all I saw was hesitation and… was that pity in his eyes? The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.
"Don't," I snapped, my voice trembling despite my attempt to sound fierce. "Don't you dare look at me like that, Abrahim Ustinov."
I turned away, trying to hide the tears that threatened to spill. My hands shook as I smoothed down my rumpled blouse, desperately trying to regain some semblance of control.
"Pippa, I—" Abe started, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
"Save it," I cut him off, whirling back to face him. "I don't need your pity or your explanations. I'm a grown woman."
But even as the words left my mouth, I felt anything but grown-up. I felt small, inexperienced, and utterly humiliated. The way Abe's eyes roamed over me now, so different from the heated gaze of moments ago, made me acutely aware of every imperfection.
Maybe I was right all along. Maybe he realized he was making a mistake sleeping with me when he could have any pretty little waif of a thing walking out there. I’d seen him, flirting around with those bombshell blondes.
"Just go," I whispered, hating how weak I sounded. "Please."
Abe hesitated, conflict clear on his face. For a moment, I thought he might argue, but then he nodded stiffly and headed for the door. As it clicked shut behind him, I collapsed into my chair, the fight draining out of me.
Alone in the quiet of my office, I buried my face in my hands. Thoughts raced through my mind, each one more painful than the last. Was it my inexperience that turned him off? Or was it my body? After everything, I had tried to find pride in my curves, but now I found myself questioning everything.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered, angry at myself for letting things go this far, for thinking someone like Abe could ever want someone like me. I glanced at the mirror on the wall, taking in my disheveled appearance—smeared lipstick, mussed hair, flushed cheeks. I looked exactly like what I was: a virgin who'd gotten in over her head.