CHAPTER 34 - ARIANNA
CHAPTER
Arianna
I HOPE I HIDE my surprise well enough. After all, I am married to Red Bateman, albeit for a few minutes.
But regardless of that, most people will assume I know what his casino looks like, rather than the truth, which is that I’ve never set foot in the actual club part before. I’ve never had reason to.
Although I’ve always been aware the Batemans owned a casino - I’ve heard my father and Roberto slating it for years - I was under the impression the casino was seedy; a front for one of those types of clubs...
You know, a “gentlemen’s” club - and, in the Batemans’ case, a cheap, sleazy strip club full of ugly women and perverted men.
That’s what I’d been told, and there was no reason to believe otherwise.
But this...
I scan the vast expanse of the opulent casino.
Tastefully furnished in golds, russets and deep burgundy, the club oozes class - nowhere near the “speakeasy” backstreet brothelesque dump I was led to believe.
I expected to trudge through ankle-deep dog-ends, my stilettos sticking to beer and vomit-soaked, threadbare carpet.
I’d braced myself to be greeted with overweight, ageing strippers wearing only PVC G-strings and gyrating their flabby bodies around poles.
I presumed I’d have to ignore groups of middle-aged, raincoat-wearing men, while sleazy jazz crackled through tinny speakers and women led their customers off into side rooms for “extras”. ..
I was wrong !
The place is spotless. And it is a casino. There’s gleaming glass tables and several bars, a full restaurant over the other side and plenty of gaming tables, sporting neat green felt, spaced around the room. There are also lots of shiny roulette wheels. It’s beautiful and impressive.
I run my hand along the edge of a soft, burgundy leather sofa. At present, the place is empty of customers; the only people around are neatly uniformed staff stocking the bars and immaculately dressed croupiers getting their tables set up and ready for the evening.
I imagine it will be busy later, and not with undiscerning customers either. The place reeks of money, and I don’t doubt it has a long waiting list for membership.
“Not what you expected?”
Red’s voice catches me off guard. In my surprise, I’d almost forgotten he was here and why. “No! Well, yes... okay, yes, it is completely different to what I... what I...”
“What you’ve been told, you mean?” Red raises an eyebrow. “I expected as much. I should tell you though, what you see here is only for appearances for one night only. Every other night we have the usual crap strippers, group sex, bloodletting and human sacrifice!”
I scowl. “Very funny! There’s no need to...”
“Lesson number one: don’t believe everything you hear about me, Arianna. Most of it is bullshit - especially when it comes from certain sources.”
Turning away, I silently wonder what else I’ve been told is the complete opposite of the truth.
“Anyway, never mind that now.” Red grabs my hand, and this time I don’t feel the immediate urge to pull away. “Come this way.”
As he tugs me in the direction of what looks like a private function room off the main casino, my nerves return with a vengeance.
“They’re waiting in here for us.”
Red leads me closer to the private room. I feel like I’m being led to my execution. I open my mouth to repeat the fears I’ve already voiced, but there’s no time before I’m whisked through double doors.
It’s only while this happens do I notice the curious looks the casino staff covertly send my way. I’ve been so engrossed with the unexpected appearance of this pristine club to take on board these strange stares, but now it threatens to spiral me off course.
It’s hardly surprising I’m getting weird looks. Who I am, as far as they’re concerned, is a mystery .
Short of the handful of staff, such as the cleaner and a couple of others bringing things to my room, no one is aware of my presence. Even if they told their colleagues, it probably wouldn’t have been believed. Or...
An uncomfortable shiver jolts along my spine as a more likely scenario pushes into my brain. It’s feasible they took the reports of the “unknown woman” in Red Bateman’s personal room to be another “conquest”. He’s well known for collecting them.
Yet now, that “unknown woman” parades around in a wedding dress...
My nerves jangle as I pull against Red’s purposeful stride. Now, as I’m led to the front of the room like an exhibit, the sea of seated reporters comes into focus, along with an audible gasp, quickly followed by blinding camera flashes. “Red, I...”
“Just keep calm and play the game,” Red hisses into my ear, his voice containing a tone of slight threat. I chill inside, yet to everyone else in the room, his face holds the look of pure elation, while in contrast, I’m sure I look like a startled rabbit.
How does he do it?
I blink against the onslaught of flashbulbs and raise my arm to shield my eyes, praying my expression matches something Red expects. But how can I look joyful and a picture of contented happiness when I’m a lamb to the slaughter?
I have no idea, but I must try.