Chapter 15
Ellie
Iwear the gold dress to work the next day for exactly two reasons.
One, I look really good in it. Wearing a gold-colored dress is not something I would have chosen to wear, unless it was for a New Year’s Eve party in my early twenties, but I love the way it makes me feel.
Understatedly classy and subtly expensive.
Two. Damien knows I look good in it. He hand-picked this dress for me, and I intend to walk through the revolving door of that hotel with my head high and my tits out on display. I’ll make sure he notices me and what I do for him. If he doesn’t, I’ll remind him.
I pick up coffee for both of us in the lobby, smiling at everyone who smiles at me. Which, by the way, is a lot of people. Most of whom are not women. Am I breaking one of the rules? Not technically. It’s not after hours. I can’t keep my eyes on him and him alone when he’s not here yet.
I’m here early today and with plenty of time to spare. I ride the elevator up to my office, double-fisting coffees. I can’t help but have a little spring in my step. My chin is high, my back is arched, my hips are swaying, and my heels are clicking. I look good. But more than that, I feel good.
I walk into my office and stop abruptly, nearly dropping the two coffees on the floor. A clothes rack displays all the things Damien ordered at the boutique the other day. There must be thirty outfits here; from dresses to skirts to shoes and even lingerie.
I set the cups down on my desk and walk over to the rack to investigate. It’s beautiful. I check the tags to confirm that every article of clothing and every shoe is my size. I realize this is real and not a joke at all.
“Oh hello,” a woman’s voice comes from behind the wrack of clothing; making me jump out of my skin.
“Jesus, you scared me,” I say, pressing my shaky hand to my chest. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Jocelyn,” she says. She’s a tall, thin woman with lips that scream plastic surgery. Her blond hair falls in a short, pin-straight bob just above her shoulders.
“Jocelyn,” I repeat. “Are you from the boutique? Because this is…amazing. If it really is for me, I mean.”
Jocelyn studies me with a smile that fades a little at my words.
“No. I work with Damien,” she answers, and a jolt of jealousy pulses through my veins. I don’t know why. A lot of people work here. I guess it’s the way she said it. I work with Damien. Not, I work for Damien. There’s a difference. I don’t like it.
“Really?” I ask as I look through the line of dresses. “I’ve never seen you before.”
“Probably because I’m always working,” she says with a smile, and our eyes meet. It’s subtle girl communication. Fake smiles. Eyes hot and hard. There are beats of silence while we reload verbal ammunition. It’s the chick equivalent of a dick-measuring contest. For the record, mine’s bigger.
“I haven’t heard your name before either,” I tell her, taking a dress off the rack and holding it up to myself.
“I work in logistics,” she says.
Hmm.
I’m not sure what to think of that, but I honestly don’t really care.
“Thanks for bringing me my new wardrobe,” I say, hoping she’ll find the door and leave.
No such luck. Jocelyn studies me a moment longer before making her way around the clothesline and walking slowly in front of the fish tank, tapping the glass, and scaring an angel fish in the process.
“You know, I have to admit,” she says with a lilt in her voice as she pretends to care about the fish. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, walking over to my desk to grab my coffee. I don’t sit down. I don’t turn my back. I keep my eyes on her even though she refuses to look at me. “Why is that?”
“Most of the girls don’t make it past the second day,” she says.
“I see,” nod. “I guess I’m not most girls.”
Jocelyn turns to me. “I guess not. Tell me. How was your first day?”
“Well, considering I made it through the interview without him so much as glancing down at my resume, I felt pretty good. Of course, I made a point of taking mental notes the moment I walked through the door. I had his coffee order memorized before he even asked for it.”
“You do realize that this job is a lot more than getting his Americano, splash of cream, no sugar, right?” she says.
“I do. And so far, from what I can tell, he’s been pleased.”
“Night shift and all?” she asks. I really don’t know who this woman is, but she knows more than she lets on. If I had to guess, she knows everything. Though I’m not sure why.
“Night shift and all,” I answer. Jocelyn studies me.
“Hmm. Well, good for you. Like I said, no one passes his tests on the first try. Most people get eliminated before they ever have a chance. You got lucky.”
“I like to think I’m good at my job,” I tell her. “I don’t think luck had anything to do with it.”
After a long moment of studying me, she smiles. It appears to be genuine. It’s almost like she had to hold up the bitchy act until she tested the waters. “I like you,” she says. “You’re saltier than the others. That’s why you’re still here.”
“Thanks?” I say, but it comes out like a question.
“Listen, I’m hungry. What do you say you take that coffee into Damien’s office and come down to the shop with me? They’re making chocolate croissants today, and they are simply to die for when they’re still hot.”
“That does sound good,” I say with hesitation. “I doubt he’d want me going for a snack break as soon as I get here,” I answer.
Jocelyn arches an eyebrow, and it makes me think about it.
I came to work today with my head held high and with determination to set my own ground rules.
I’m wearing the gold dress! I check the time.
I still have ten minutes before Damien arrives.
I can still set his schedule and his coffee on his desk before he gets here.
As long as he has what he needs, does he really need me standing there to wish him a good morning?
It’s not like he answers me half the time anyway.
So, I do just that. Jocelyn and I head down to the coffee shop. As we ride the elevator, she turns to me. “So here’s a couple of things about Damien you should probably know.”
“I feel like I know him pretty well, but shoot,” I say to her. After all, she has been here longer than me, and she’s still here. Any advice I can get on how to handle the man who is literally driving me crazy, both in a good way and a bad way, is very welcome at this point.
“Never wear anything to work unless it comes off that rack. If he bought you clothes, he expects you to wear them, and don’t think he’ll forget.
He has a photographic memory, specifically when it comes to what women are wearing.
He likes to say it comes with the territory of working in Las Vegas, where everything is an aesthetic.
I say it’s because Damien Graves low-key loves fashion. ”
I nod while making mental notes, something that I happen to be very good at. “What else?” I ask as the elevator door opens and we make our way to the shop. I can already smell the sweet baked goods, and my mouth starts to water.
“Never act insecure. Damien wants his women to be confident, but not so confident that it comes off as arrogant. There’s a difference between being stubborn and trying to dominate him,” she tells me.
“So more of a brat than a sub, but never a dom,” I say. “Got it.”
Jocelyn blinks at me, not sure whether to be shocked or to smile. “Right,” she says before going on. We approach the coffee shop, and she orders two chocolate scones and an almond milk latte.
“I really shouldn’t be eating this,” she says as she taps her employee card on the reader. “But they’re just so good, and I only have one once a week.”
“I really don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I say as my eyes sweep over her.
She is thin, with perfect perky little boobs and a slender, flat waistline.
Even before I had Luca, I didn’t look like that.
I can’t help but envy her, both for her body and the fact that she seems to have this whole place worked out.
“How long have you worked here?” I ask.
“About a year,” she answers as the barista hands Jocelyn her coffee and our sweet treats. “I know it might not sound like much, but trust me, in this industry, and on the strip, not to mention, working for Damien Graves, anything over a month is a miracle. Over six months is unheard of.”
“So, what’s your secret?” I ask as I chew. She’s right; these croissants, filled with creamy, melted dark chocolate, are divine.
“You want to know?” she asks after a hesitant moment. I nod. She motions for me to keep following her, then she lowers her voice and says, “Never get attached.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean…you’ve been out, right?” she asks.
“Out?”
“The Opal Room.” She mouths the words, and my cheeks flush to a warm pink that I can feel, answering the question for me. “You have. I’m sure you know what he expects from you.”
“We have an understanding,” I say carefully. “It’s all in my contract.”
“I’m sure it is,” she says. “So you know never to expect intimacy, right?”
“Intimacy as in…” I trail off.
Jocelyn stops walking and smiles at me. “Never develop feelings for Damien because he won’t have feelings for you,” she says flatly and honestly.
Jocelyn keeps going. “I’m not trying to sound like a bitch.
It’s not just you. Damien does not fall in love with anyone.
Ever. So whatever is going on at the Opal Room, or even the Velvet Lounge, take it at face value. ”
I smile tightly and look away for a moment.
“Did I offend you?” she asks. “I mean, surely you already knew all this. Damien is clear about his expectations.”
“I just don’t understand how sex can happen without intimacy,” I say.
Jocelyn lets out an unexpected high-pitched laugh. “Oh honey. Aren’t you precious? It can, and with Damien, it must. Nothing will end your contract faster than trying to force Damien to be intimate with you.”
I study her for a moment. Somehow, I believe she knows what she’s talking about, and it does seem to make sense, given his nature.
If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Which only leads me to question what I was feeling in that pink-lit room that night.
Or even in the dressing room when I thought for sure that Damien was going to kiss me.
I shake my head of the thoughts and come back to the room, smiling at Jocelyn. At any rate, it’s nice to have made a friend in this big building.
“I really should be getting back,” I tell her. “Just in case he needs to make any schedule changes. It was good meeting you. We should keep in touch.”
“Yes!” she says with a smile. “I hope we didn’t get off on the wrong foot up there. Most girls in your position are very stuck up, but you seem sweet,” she says.
As I make my way to the elevator, my mind swirls in circles.
On the one hand, it really is nice to meet someone new.
On the other hand, I haven’t decided who I can and can’t trust here.
Either way, I’m keeping my cards close to my chest. Like any other game in Las Vegas, the stakes are high, and most of the tables are rigged.