Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I t was the same every time. The immediate low that followed the highest of highs. My heart beat evened out, my blood pressure dropped—along with the thrill—and then I was left with that familiar emptiness. The one that had me in a chokehold until the next time I entered a room, took my usual spot at the table, and had the first hand of cards thrown out in front of me. Until I holed myself up in my usual suite and made good use of the bleach-white sheets.
I looked up at my reflection in the mirror before chancing a glance over the shoulder at the girl still curled up in my bed. She was such a slight thing I could just make out the shape of her body from here.
That was a problem.
The only thing I avoided more than repeat offenders was slumber parties. Which meant my little pillow princess had to go.
I slammed the bathroom door closed, loud enough that it would wake her if she was in fact sleeping and not just faking it. Turned the tap on the coldest setting and splashed some water on my face before tucking a fresh towel around my waist. What I wanted was a hot shower, something to soothe the sore muscles that told me my night had been well spent. But what I needed was help ensuring this girl didn’t make a scene when I threw her ass out. Not that I couldn’t handle her on my own. I just didn’t care to. Especially when I had more than enough cash to pay someone else to do it for me.
I reached out an arm and swiped up the phone that was mounted to the wall to my right. The concierge answered on the second ring, which told me he hadn’t been sitting at his desk and had to make a quick dash for it. Hospitality knew I didn’t like waiting— as a long-term guest, I shouldn’t have had to.
“Good evening, Mr. Bettencourt, how may we assist you?” an older man hummed down the line, sounding a little too chipper at this time of night—my eyes flicked to the gold watch I hadn’t bothered to remove—or should I say morning? It was already half-past three.
“I have a guest who needs help finding the front door,” I grunted into the receiver. I didn’t have to say more. The staff knew what was expected of them and security had certain measures in place if things got a little… hairy. It was amazing what a few extra hundred-dollar bills shoved into someone’s palm could do for you. How quickly a stiff set of morals could be pushed aside and forgotten about.
I listened to the sound of tapping on a keyboard in the background before the concierge’s voice whispered down the line again, “The woman in the green dress?” He’d been pulling up the security footage, preparing to delete it—as was protocol—until something must have stopped him.
“Yes. Why? Is there a problem?” It wasn’t really a question. It was a latent threat. I didn’t care if this girl was this fucker’s granddaughter. I paid him to turn a blind eye, and that’s exactly what he was gonna do. Or he would be heading out the door right along with her.
There was a long pause, my irritation growing in tandem with the rapid clicking sounds and the quick shuffling of steps. And then I heard the pounding of boots. Security, I could only assume.
“I said is there a fucking problem?” I barked between clenched teeth.
“Is she there with you now, sir?” he asked, his voice a little shakier than it was a moment ago.
“Who? The girl?” I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over a shoulder again, even though there was still a door between us. “She’s in the other room. Why? What the fuck is going on?” By the time I swung it back open, stretching the phone cord as I stepped out of the en suite and into the main living space, security was forcing their way inside.
“You may want to check for your wallet, sir.” The breeze from the now-open window left my towel fluttering, chilling my balls while the concierge’s words sent a similar chill down my spine. “According to the pit manager, it’s the fifth time that girl’s lost her virginity this week.”