Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Emmanuel Lopez is here. As in, here in Las Vegas right now. I only messaged him yesterday to tell him about the cop who was looking for Louie’s girlfriend. And now he’s here. I wonder if this is it? The thing he sent me here to monitor.
And then I see him walking through the casino floor with Louie. Asshole didn’t even bother to tell me he was coming to town. I watch from the corner of my eye while not a single one of Emmanuel’s soldiers pays me any mind—although they all know who I am.
Maybe it’s a good thing for this job to come to an end. I let myself get way too close to Sammie. As in I dry-humped the guy until I came. Who does that?
Me, apparently. It did feel good, though, so there’s that.
As soon as there’s a lull at my desk, I pull my phone out and text Emmanuel.
Me:
Why didn’t you tell me you were in town?
E:
That seems like something a friend would do, and we are not friends, remember?
Me:
You really need to let that go. How long are you staying?
E:
Until I leave.
Argh, he’s so frustrating. I don’t know why I bother with him.
Yes, I do. His jobs pay well and this current assignment isn’t exactly hard. He must really like these guys to have me here this long. Either that or he doesn’t trust them and is looking for a reason to take them out.
Just as I’m dropping my phone back into my pocket, it buzzes again. I expect it to be Emmanuel because not many other people message me.
Unknown:
Meet me tonight. My place. I’m cooking.
Me:
Who is this?
Unknown:
The man who’s going to cook you dinner.
A stupid smile spreads across my face. Sammie. Who else could it be?
Me:
Sammie? How did you get my number?
After pressing send, I save his information under contacts.
Sammie:
You got another man offering to feed you, babe?
Me:
Nope.
Sammie:
See you later.
A thought crosses my mind. If Emmanuel is looking for dirt against his friends, that means he’s looking for dirt on Sammie too. That’s not going to end well. Also, what the hell do I do about it?
I decide that whatever their business is, it’s not mine. I’m here on a job that I’m being paid a good amount of money to do. Whatever these gangsters are up to is on them.
Do I like Sammie? Sure, but I’m professional and my mouth is staying shut. I can’t give up my cover for some guy with an impressive dick.
I mean, I haven’t seen it, but I sure as hell felt it. Which reminds me… I need to stop thinking about that man’s dick and get back to work. I still have four hours left of my shift. And it’s going to be a long four hours.
True to his word, Sammie is waiting for me by the staff lounge. “You ready?” he asks.
I look around and notice there are a lot of other employees here. So, instead of answering him, I pull out my phone and send him a message.
Me:
I’ll meet you at your place. We cannot be seen together like this. It’s weird.
I can feel his eyes burning into my skin as I type on my screen. I look up at him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Russo. I forgot about our meeting. My shift just ended. Can it wait until tomorrow?”
Sammie smirks. Then he reads the text I just sent him and that smirk turns to a frown as he jabs at his phone with the tips of his fingers.
Sammie:
I don’t care who sees us leave together. I’ll wait for you on the street.
“Sure, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Have a good night, Ms. Miller,” he says before walking away.
“Thanks, I plan to.” I smile at his retreating back.
He’s going to wait for me outside. That’s better than him waiting here, where all my colleagues are itching for the latest workplace gossip.
Which I do not plan on being the main focus of.
I don’t really care what any of these people think of me, but there is only so much restraint a girl can have.
I don’t want to hear them talking about me and then slip up and “accidentally” slit one of their throats.
Walking out of the Royal Flush, I scan my surroundings, and then head in Sammie’s direction.
He has a curious look on his face as he watches me approach.
I’ve decided that tonight I don’t care who he is.
I want to feel as good as I did the other night.
And if using this man’s dick can do that, then I’m going to use it all I want.
“Hey.”
“You okay?” he asks.
“Uh-huh.” I nod and stare at the tops of my shoes. I’m getting used to playing shy.
“It seemed like you were looking for something just now,” he says.
Shit, he noticed that.
“I was. You.” I smile at him and can see in his eyes that he doesn’t believe me. Thankfully, he doesn’t bring it up. Instead, he takes hold of my hand and ushers me up the street.
“How was your day?” he asks.
“Long. Yours?”
“Long. An old friend came to town. I had to show him around a bit,” Sammie says.
“Oh yeah, I saw you walking through with someone. It’s nice of him to come visit,” I reply.
“Yeah. Do me a favor and steer clear of the guy,” Sammie tells me. “He, ah… he’s a little unhinged.”
Unhinged is an understatement when it comes to Emmanuel Lopez.
“What’s his name? And what kind of friends do you have that you don’t want me near them? Or… It’s okay if you’re embarrassed of me. I’m a big girl. I can take it. And you know, we aren’t anything really. I don’t need an explanation,” I ramble on.
“His name is Emmanuel. And I’m not fucking embarrassed of you, Lailani. I just don’t want you mixed up in shit you have no business being mixed up in,” he says.
“How long have you known him? This Emmanuel guy?” I might not be able to get answers from E on what this job is about, but maybe if I dig enough, I can get some from Sammie.
“Since we were kids. He grew up here.”
We walk into the Wild Card casino and Sammie quickly guides us over to the elevators. The moment we enter his penthouse, though, my jaw drops.
“This is where you live?” I ask while spinning around to take in all the opulence, because that’s how I imagine a poor struggling girl would react to seeing a place like this.
“This is where I live. It’s just an apartment, Lailani,” Sammie says.
“No, this isn’t an apartment. This is… wow. I guess owning a casino pays well, huh?” I laugh.
“It doesn’t pay too bad.” Sammie shrugs, seeming a little uncomfortable with all the money talk.
“So, what are you feeding me?” I ask, changing the subject. My eyes flick downwards, landing on his crotch. When I look back up, I know I’ve been caught checking out his package.
“Not that.” Sammie chuckles. “Come on, I’ll put something together.”
I follow him into the kitchen. I don’t know what to say or do, so I just stand here awkwardly. “How old are you?” I question after a long silence. Of course, I already know the answer.
“Twenty-eight. Why?” he counters.
“That’s pretty old.” I smirk. “I would have thought you were closer to twenty-five.”
“Did you just call me old?” He narrows his glare at me.
“I meant for me. You might be a little too old for me,” I tell him. I’m actually twenty-six, but right now, I’m playing a twenty-year-old college student.
Sammie walks over and leans close. “You weren’t thinking I was too old when you were rubbing your hot little pussy all over my dick.”
I inhale a sharp breath. That was not what I was expecting him to say. “Maybe I have a daddy fetish,” I reply before I can stop myself.
Shit, tone it down a bit, Lailani.
Sammie raises a brow. “Tell me, if I were your daddy, would you be a good girl for me?”
Holy fuck, that should not have my panties as wet as they are.
I gulp. I don’t have a daddy fetish. At least not one that I knew about. But, damn, if being Sammie’s good girl isn’t appealing. I nod my head in response.
Sammie chuckles. “I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun exploring this little fetish of yours, babe.” Then he turns around and opens the fridge.
“I don’t actually have a daddy fetish. It was a joke,” I tell him.
“Sure,” he says nonchalantly.