7. Adrian
Adrian
Three full days passed, bringing us to Wednesday—the day when my focus would gradually shift from mundane matters with the business to the flashier events to come.
The truth about Vegas was that the city never slept.
I never knew why New York City got that nickname when Vegas had nightclubs open until ten a.m. the next day.
But there was a difference between Tuesday at four a.m. and Friday at four a.m. The former usually spoke of degeneracy and major questions; the latter spoke of being in the spotlight at the prime hour.
So while others might have taken “industry nights” to go get wasted and hook up with whoever, I took those nights as a chance to get even more work done.
But now that it was Wednesday, my eyes began to shift to the weekend and what was to come.
And strangely, no matter how much I tried to focus elsewhere, they kept returning to one woman.
Delilah fucking Reyes.
She was like a magnet that I could not pull myself away from, even when I did everything to do so.
If I thought about calling up women in my phone that I knew would only want sex, my mind shifted to her.
If I thought about just hanging out with my brothers, I’d have to acknowledge that Sarah would be with Cassius, even if only for a moment, which reminded me that she and Delilah were close friends.
I played this game in my mind of fighting her hold on me, refusing to accept that she had such a grip on me, before eventually deciding that the easiest thing to do was just to lean into it.
I wanted to fuck her, and I wanted her in my grasp.
What was so wrong about that? It wasn’t like I was going to date her, much less marry her or do what Cassius had done with Sarah.
It was perfectly fine for her to be my obsession of the moment; I would wring her for all she was worth, get what I needed out of her, and move on to the next.
Unless she’s the one you stop moving on from.
Ignoring that strange thought that seemed to pop out of nowhere, I picked up my phone and dialed Delilah. I knew like the good little girl—journalist—she was, she would answer immediately or at least as soon as she could. It got only to the second ring before she picked up.
“Adrian?”
“Delilah,” I said, keeping my voice as charming as I knew how to. “I’d like to extend an invitation to you to come to my office. Some call it ‘The Lion’s Den,’ but I’d find that to be much too intimidating.”
But I might just eat you. Oh, I might just eat you… out. Get between those bronzed legs, put my mouth right up there, and…
“I’m not going into a lion’s den,” Delilah said with a chuckle, “but I would be happy to visit your office for an interview. When would work best for you?”
I was going to say something about tomorrow, maybe Friday, maybe even Saturday. Those all would have built heightened anticipation, created a sense of excitement, and put Delilah even more under my spell.
But do you know what worked even better than anticipation?
Pressure.
“Tonight,” I said. “I’m here until nine o’clock usually. So, anytime before then. I’ll make sure my secretary knows you are coming.”
“I can be there in an hour,” she said instantly. Almost too rapidly, as if she’d expected that answer. Or hoped for it?
“Then I will see you in an hour,” I said before we quickly hung up. No need to drag out a prep phone call too long; not when we’d have all night to each other.
As soon as I knew the line was dead, I immediately found myself examining the room from head to toe.
Just because Delilah had dismissed the “Lion’s Den” moniker didn’t mean that I was going to let her walk into a room resembling a typical office.
She had to know this was the office of Adrian Vale, King of Diamonds. No one else.
The first thing I did was to make sure all of my diamonds and the various awards I’d gotten through the years were strategically placed for full visibility.
I couldn’t tell you a damn thing about the awards; the best reward was money, full stop.
But other people who would give me money or at least reduce expenses found those awards incredibly interesting, so out on the desk they went.
As for the diamonds, well, they went to the front of the desk, albeit just to the side. It might have been arrogant to say, but the best jewel was the one sitting behind the desk; to block it with anything else, much less anyone else, would be a terrible mistake.
I then went around the room, making sure no pictures were crooked, no dust had accumulated anywhere, and no junk was lying around.
Delilah Reyes was coming to my office, my world, my domain, and she would not see a hint of weakness. Not as I controlled her. Not as I made her mind. After all, this might have officially been an interview… but unofficially?
I’d give her all the answers she was looking for.
About forty-five minutes later, my phone rang from my secretary.
“I have a journalist from the Las Vegas Times. What’s your name? Delilah—”
“Send her in,” I said immediately before hanging up. I sat back in my chair, kicked my feet up on my desk, and waited. I was not a man to wait long, but I was comfortable waiting if it meant Delilah came to me.
It took less than a minute later for Delilah to walk through my double oak doors. She was dressed… interestingly. Mostly professional, with a white top, jeans, and a light gray jacket. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she had an obvious recording device in her hand.
But to me, there were hints that she was trying to make herself come across as a bit more than a stiff professional.
That white top I mentioned? There were two buttons unbuttoned when before there had either only been one or none.
Her jeans were dark and professional; there were no holes or ass cheeks hanging out.
But they conformed to her perfect body oh so well, in a manner that she could not possibly have been oblivious to.
The jacket was a jacket, there was no way to make that anything more than a comfort garment, but the whole of her outfit said she was someone trying to convey a message only those paying attention would get.
Remember though, she’s a journalist. She could be using this to get you to open up about things you don’t want to.
And who could miss the smile that she walked in with? I didn’t even think she knew how her smile came across. Warm, but with a hint of excitement, like she knew what she was doing blurred the lines between investigative journalism and getting too close to the source.
“Good evening, Delilah,” I said.
“Good evening,” she replied , her words just a tad too clipped, like she was protecting her tone from overreaching. “A nice office you have here.”
“I would want nothing less than the best,” I responded, kicking my feet off the desk and moving the chair forward.
I thought of moving around the desk, sitting in front of her, maybe standing over her…
but in due time. These things couldn’t be rushed.
“I take it this is one of the nicer offices you have been in?”
“One of the most personalized, certainly.”
But not one of the nicer ones? Maybe I’ll need to do better with this.
“In any case, Mr. Vale, I would remind you that I am here to interview you, not to flatter you about your office. I was simply commenting on something nice that I saw.”
“Of course,” I said. If we were to play the game, I could do that. I didn’t like comparisons to my older brother, but one thing we shared was an ability to be extremely patient. All Vales, outside maybe Dante, had that trait, and it had served us very well.
“Is there anything you wish to tell me before I ask my questions? Keeping in mind, of course, that we are now on the record.”
Oh.
Right.
I’d been so eager to get Delilah in my office that I hadn’t even thought about what I’d want to actually be interviewed about. Foolish mistake on my part. I might yet control her and get her in bed, but there was a game to be played, and I’d failed to think about how to play the game.
Fortunately, I could fake deep thought quite easily for Delilah. And more fortunately, I was nimble on my feet and good at thinking rapidly.
“Have you spoken recently to the Morrils?” I asked. “I would love to dispel anything they said.”
“I have,” Delilah said. “Confidentiality agreements as a journalist prevent me from divulging who in their family or even if it was someone in their family spoke. But yes, I did speak to someone with the Morrils.”
“Cowards, typical,” I said, waving a hand.
All of us Vales hated the Morrils for their insistence on hiding when they struck.
If they were going to do hit pieces, the least they could do was own it.
“I will hear what they had to say, but I do not expect any of it to carry weight. You know, Delilah, that I own everything I do.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, but there was a certain shift in her presence that told me she understood well the undercurrent.
This alone was enough to make me thrilled to have her here versus on the phone; that shift suggested she enjoyed my hint, that she would want me to go further with it.
“In that case, we will put the question of the Morrils to the side, and I will ask my own questions.”
“By all means,” I said, raising my arms as if to say I feared nothing—because I, in fact, feared nothing.
She nodded, looked down at her phone in silence for a few seconds, and then looked up with a much more assertive look. She’d clearly gathered herself for something, but for what…
“Tell me about the nickname. The King of Diamonds.”
“What about it?”
Delilah shrugged.
“Whatever direction you want to take that request in. I have follow-ups to guide you further, don’t you worry.”
Worry? What the hell would I worry about? Although, strangely enough, there was a small pit in my stomach when the question got asked. I suspected it just came from a suspicion that Delilah had a direction I would not enjoy.
“I like the high life,” I said. “I think sometimes people get apologetic for enjoying rich things and high taste. They feel embarrassed to spend three hundred dollars on a steak or ten thousand dollars on shoes. I say, who the fuck cares? I earned this money, I earned the right to spend it how I please. One way in which I please is with diamonds,” I said with my hands spread out, gesturing toward the diamonds on the table.
“That tells me the media answer,” Delilah said. “I mean, why did you pick it? What made you pick it over something like King of High Life? King of Wealth?”
“Because King of Diamonds has that play on a deck of cards. It’s creative, and it fits in with Vegas.”
“Does it have anything to do with your brother being named the King of Hearts?”
That froze everything for me. My brother… influencing my nickname? No, no way. Not a chance.
Then why did it get to me so? Why was it having such an impact on me?
“Delilah Reyes,” I said, “you are asking some very interesting questions. I suggest you choose your words very carefully.”
Delilah smirked. It disappeared instantly, as if she knew that was a mistake, but I had seen it. It told me she knew that question would get under my skin and piss me off.
On the one hand, yeah, it did, and that in itself was infuriating. How dare she try to get the upper hand on me. Maybe I couldn’t make her bow to my whims, but for her to think that she could one-up me?
On the other hand… so it turned out my sparring partner could hit a little harder than I expected. It turned out the woman I thought I could bring into my grasp might actually have a trick or two up her sleeve that would put me, very temporarily, in her grasp. Clever, clever girl.
“I always choose my words carefully, Adrian,” she said cooly. “Do you?”
I chuckled darkly.
“Delilah,” I said. “You want to know a better answer?”
“I want to know the real answer.”
“It’s like I told you on the call the other day. Diamonds are made under intense pressure and very high heat. Do you know how I operate as a man? Under intense pressure and high heat. Put that in your article. And if you dare ask a follow-up, you’d better word it carefully.”
Delilah nodded. She knew she’d gotten a good quote—frankly, a better response than she could have even asked for. A more personal one at that.
But she was greedy. I could see it. She wasn’t greedy for money, but she was greedy for knowledge. She was hungry to learn as much as she could about me, maybe even more than I wanted to know about myself.
“Tell me about the diamond cufflinks, Adrian,” she said. “And how they relate to the man who loves pressure and heat.”