Chapter 1 Alistair
Chapter one
Alistair
"Can I get you anything else, Mr. Evans?"
My flight attendant, Harrison, places a drink next to me, and I glance up from the article I'm reading about the steadily rising earnings of EchoStarTech.
"No." It comes out harsh even to my ears, so I add, "Thank you."
"I invested in that company like you suggested." Harrison nods at my phone. "It's doing great. Thank you."
"They are only going to make more money, on an upward trend and growing, so don't sell it." I take a sip of my drink.
He nods and hustles to the back of the plane knowing I prefer not to chit-chat.
Harrison and my pilot, Walter, are both full-time employees.
I don't like the idea of meeting strangers each time I fly, so I pay a handsome yearly salary with benefits to make sure I get exactly what I expect.
Unpredictability is unnecessarily irritating to me.
Except in rare cases. One of which is why I'm currently on my plane in the first place.
I put down my phone and stare out the window. Even in the darkness, I can tell we're passing over the Rocky Mountains, which means we're a little over two hours from Vegas.
Two hours away from her.
Caitlyn Collins, director of the spa and salon at the Golden Palm Hotel & Casino, and the woman I fell head-over-heels in love with the moment I met her.
Talk about unexpected.
Casual flings are of no interest to me, and a long-term relationship has always seemed like a future out of my reach, even though a constant partner is more my speed.
I prefer consistency to flashy and new. A routine that I can count on.
When I stay at the Golden, I order the same meals every time.
I play about the same amount of money at the same tables, and make sure it's enough to maintain high-roller status, mainly because I do not want my routine altered.
I like my suite, and they prepare it exactly the way I want it each month.
I could book a room without being a high-roller, but the suites are not the same.
One of the high-roller perks is an in-room haircut.
They had a guy who was very good at cutting my hair the way I liked it, so I used the service every month.
But then he moved on to another job, and the White Sands Spa would send a different person to cut my hair each month.
All of them young, flirty, and not getting the cut right. It was a disaster.
Then, one day, they told me the salon director was coming up to cut my hair, herself, so I agreed to give it one more try. I opened the door to heaven on earth, and my entire routine went to shit. The fact that I couldn’t care less as long as I get to see Caitlyn tells me everything I need to know.
I need to make this woman mine.
Not only is she beautiful, with curves I dream of exploring on a nightly basis, but she's smart, funny, kind, and she accepts me and my quirks for exactly who I am.
Last month, I took a gamble. One that could have gotten me banned from the hotel, or, far worse, caused me to lose her forever.
After months of haircuts, with her fingers caressing my skin and me trying to decipher each word from her perfect lips as intended interest in me, she gave me a look that seemed to be pure attraction.
I am literal and precise, typically needing explicit and direct feedback to ensure I am on the same page with anyone else in my life, from friends to family to my employees. But, with Caitlyn, I simply reacted.
She leaned down to check the length of my hair, and our eyes met. She smiled at me, her gaze dropping to my mouth before they darted back to my eyes, and I took a chance. I kissed her, and she kissed me back, and then all bets were off.
The moment I tasted her, I knew there was no going back.
We were just getting started, but then there was a knock at the door, and she panicked about her job.
She was on the clock, and building a career.
I managed to get into the elevator with her as she hurried back to the spa, and in a moment of pure desperation, I made her a bet.
"If Marcus Rodriguez wins the boxing match tonight, you are mine."
"One night with me? That's your prize?" Caitlyn's chest heaved as she looked at my lips.
I crossed my fingers, even as I nodded in agreement.
Not one night.
Forever.
I didn't want to scare her, though. The way my brain works, I get obsessive about interests and head down a rabbit hole until I know everything there is to know. Then, I own that subject forever. It is mine. I've never done it with a person before, though.
Until her.
"What do I get if he loses?" Caitlyn asked.
"Your wish is my command." I swallowed hard, feeling slightly guilty.
Caitlyn doesn't follow sports and had no idea that me winning the bet that night was a sure thing. Her whispered, "Yes," was all I needed.
The next day, I called the spa and asked them to leave her a message: Rodriguez won.
I've spent the last three weeks preparing my life for her. Although, I've only been promised one night, I am going to have to win her heart forever.
And that is where I'm at a complete and utter loss. I pull out my phone firing off a text.
What kind of flowers will make a woman fall in love with me?
I don't know anything about how to win a woman's heart, but I have to hope my best friend does. Barrett Billings is not currently in love, as far as I know, but he does have two new sister-in-laws, so maybe he can help me figure this out.
While I wait for Barrett to return my text, I continue searching variations of the phrase, how to make a woman fall in love with me, and some of the results are ridiculously off-base. Most of the hits appear to be for paid porn sites.
Damn it.
"Harrison?" I call out, as I reach for my laptop.
I've found that digging deeply into a subject is the only way to fully grasp concepts that are foreign to me.
Basic social expectations and rules, for example, tend to perplex me, although, hand me a complicated math equation and I can solve it easily.
I was fortunate enough to inherit millions, which I turned into billions before I turned thirty.
But give me something dealing with people, or social situations, and it's like I'm a child again. It's frustrating, but I've managed.
"Yes, sir. What can I get for you?" Harrison looks at me expectantly, his brow slightly furrowed. I don't deviate from my routine often.
"What flowers do women like?"
Harrison's eyes widen. "Um, well, it would depend on the woman, sir." Harrison clears his throat. "You will want to avoid flowers associated with funerals, unless of course this is related to a death."
I nod. This is good advice. "Are there flowers that would help me communicate that I– I desire a woman?"
Harrison raises his eyebrows. In the ten years he's worked for me, I have never mentioned a romantic interest, nor have I ever brought a woman on my plane. I imagine he is curious.
"Perhaps the quantity of flowers could communicate that message. Not one bouquet, but a room full of them." Harrison pulls out his phone. "Can I take care of it for you? I can put together a list of suggestions."
Quantity, interesting. "Ah, yes. For tomorrow night."
"Of course, sir. I'll get in touch with the hotel and have someone come to your suite to prepare for tomorrow evening."
"Ah, no," I say quickly, remembering why our evening was cut short last time. Caitlyn works at the hotel and doesn't want any issues of impropriety getting around at her place of business. Although, my goal is to marry this woman, so eventually her colleagues will find out, but one step at a time.
"I would like this handled without alerting the hotel. As much as possible."
"Of course, sir." Harrison nods. "Give me a few moments, and we'll go from there."
"Thank you." I put my laptop back in my bag and notice the burnt orange colored shell that I tucked in there from one of my walks along the beaches of St. Martin.
"Harrison?"
"Yes, sir?" He comes back to my seat, and I hand him the shell.
"For your son's collection," I say.
"A Glory of the Sea cone shell?" Harrison looks at me with a big smile. "Thank you, Mr. Evans. He'll love it."
I nod and continue with my research on my phone.
A half hour later, Harrison checks in with me again.
"Sir, I checked in with the hotel, and they are prepared for your arrival.
I've also found a concierge service that helps with planning.
They are not affiliated with the hotel in any way, so your wishes will remain discreet.
A Ms. Holmes will be at your suite tomorrow morning at nine am. "
"Excellent. Thank you, Harrison."
"My pleasure, sir. May I get you anything else before landing?"
I wave him away and stare out the window. The lights of Vegas call out to me like a beacon. I have always felt a little thrill of possibility each time I visit. Will I beat the house, or pay for my comps one way or the other? But this time, the thrill is not about the luck of the tables.
I'm here to collect on a bet the house didn't make.
This time, I'm here for her.