Chapter Nine #2
The casino drinks her in like I do. Heads turn as we pass, men openly staring, women whispering, and I’m content to let them look.
She’s on my arm, not theirs. Clayton trails behind us, a shadow moving just far enough back to look like he’s minding his own business, but I know he’s watching.
He won’t let me and Harper out of sight, as if I’m going to chuck her in the nearest trash can or down the nearest stairwell.
Harper steers us to the roulette table, the crowd parting for us automatically. It’s commonplace when you’re filthy rich. People can sense the undeserving privilege like they can smell it on my extortionately priced cologne.
“Place your bets,” the croupier calls. He’s a burly man, in his forties maybe, with flecks of fiery red showing beneath his silver-streaked hair.
When Harper doesn’t make a move, I take a handful of chips from her clutch bag and hand them over to be exchanged for roulette chips.
Harper’s eyes widen, a small intake passing through her parted lips.
“Rhys,” she breathes my name, looking at the black and silver striped chips in her hand.
“That’s seven-thousand dollars.” I nod, deciding not to remind her how much she has resting at her hip if this is freaking her out.
Closing her hand in mine, I hold the focus of her sea-green eyes while guiding her to release them randomly over the table’s grid.
Our blind guess has landed us on red eighteen, the croupier spinning the wheel before waving his hands to signal no more bets.
There are loads of chips on the table, many smaller amounts spread across multiple numbers around our tall stack near the centre.
The crowd starts to buzz excitedly as the ball bounces across the wheel, slowing to drop into black thirty-one.
A man at the other end who needs to lay off fast food hollers, his dismal pile of chips being doubled.
Aware that lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice, I urge Harper to cash in some more chips and place on black thirty-one.
Her confused expression flicks to me, but she complies, grinding her ass against me deliciously as she reaches over the table.
I slide my thumb under her hem, dragging it against the heat between her thighs.
She gasps and shoves my hand away, but not before Clayton notices and gruffs harshly.
The wheel is spun again, red seven taking the win and I blow out a low chuckle.
“You’re trying to lose, aren’t you?” Harper turns her head to me, her back to my front and my hand splayed across her hip.
“Am I though? If my father is losing, technically I’m winning.” The grin that splits across my face aces with its smugness. Turning fully, Harper raises her eyebrow and my cock twitches with her sassiness.
“You could donate the money to charity, you know. There’s so many kids that could use—"
“Ugh,” I groan loudly, gaining the attention of those around us. “Why’d you have to spoil my fun like that?” Cock well and truly sunk, I take Harper’s hand and lead her back towards the bar.
I don’t care when others disapprove of my lifestyle choices, but something about Harper doing it makes me crave for a strong drink.
Like the casino, the bar’s surface is polished and black.
Bottles ranging from fermented piss to high society champagne and everything in between line the shelves behind several bartenders, all dressed in fully black uniforms. A guy about our age is the only one who steps forward to serve me.
“Single-barrel Jack Daniels on the rocks and a strawberry rosé spritzer,” I demand with a rough edge to my voice. Harper’s hand trails the length of my back and eases the tension from between my shoulders.
“Make that two whiskies,” she adds before the waiter leaves, pointing to Clayton who has taken a seat further down the bar. For now at least, Harper remains at my side, concern in her gaze. I soften, kissing her shoulder and inhaling the floral scent of the hotel’s shampoo in her hair.
“What’s wrong?” she asks as our drinks are placed before us. I down mine, immediately clicking my fingers for another.
“Nothing,” I murmur weakly. There’s no point trying to hide it when she can see through me, but I try anyway.
Flicking her clutch open, I pull out one of the ten-thousand-dollar chips hidden in there and hand it to the bartender as he returns with my second drink.
His face pales amongst the mess of brown curls framing it, stuttering his appreciation and something about paying off tuition as I turn to face Harper.
“Keep the rest of those,” I jerk my chin at the still open bag. “Cash them in and donate to whoever you want.”
“Rhys, I didn’t mean to spoil your fun.” She pouts, thawing out any parts of me that were disappointed. Chuckling softly, I pull her into the stool beside me and tug it so close, she’s practically on my lap.
“It’s fine. You’re right, as per usual.” The bar top gleams under the soft amber lights, Harper’s hand resting on the polished wood next to mine.
A few stools down, Clayton watches us over the rim of his glass.
He’s like a sentry, waiting for the moment the switch flips in my head and I lash out.
Tracing the hair trailing over Harper’s shoulder, I have an intense urge to sink my teeth into her neck and drink her blood, just to see what he’d do.
Following my eyeline, Harper peers over to our not-so-welcome guest and tilts her head.
“Hey Rhys,” she leans into me, her scent washing through my senses. “Are there any private rooms around here?” My lip ring tugs as I smirk, my brow raised and eager. Now we’re talking.
“What are you thinking?” I nudge her jaw with my nose, gaining me access to the patch behind her ear. My lips press over the implant hidden beneath her skin and she shudders against me.
“Perhaps we could gamble with something other than chips.” Harper’s lashes lower, her mouth curving. Heat floods my system, making a beeline for my cock. Harper knows how to reduce me to nothing but a horny dog and I have my bone ready for her.
“You mean…we could bet with our clothes?” I wriggle my brows, seconds away from panting. Harper’s laugh cuts through the bar, her palm pushing against my shoulder to put some space between us.
“No, you idiot. We can bet with our secrets.” Harper smiles sweetly and my head slams forward on the bar. I’m certain this girl hates me.