Chapter 2
A Few Hours Before…
I’ve done many things in my life I’m not proud of to get to where I am. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Fuck, I didn’t even have a wooden one.
But everything I have, I fucking worked for. Earned every dirty penny. Bled for it.
So, when someone tries to steal from me, I take it very personal.
“I fucking hate thieves,” I say to my head of security, Gustavo.
The older man turns his head slightly toward me, but doesn’t take his eyes off the two-way mirror window that allows us a perfect view into our holding room. “What do you want me to do with him?”
It’s a good question, one with many options. If Alan Tyler were a run-of-the-mill patron of the casino, I’d simply call the police and let them handle it. I do try to keep my business legit as much as possible.
This guy, however, is part of a ring called the Chasers, a group of high rollers that earn money off bets they make outside a casino. The name of the game, who can launder the most money without getting caught. And they rarely do.
Alan had already turned ten thousand dollars into casino chips. He might have gotten away with it, except for the fact that our facial recognition system pegged him at the blackjack table.
“We’re his third hit this week,” I say.
“That we know of.” Gustavo rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Fucking Chasers.”
Our prisoner is staring back at us, as if he can see through the mirror. A grin spreads over his face that reminds me of the Joker as he raises his cuffed hands and waves. Stupid, stupid, man.
There’s a reason they call themselves Chasers. They chase the high they get from the hit. Addicts, in a way. And addicts are notoriously hard to change. I know that better than most.
Without another word, I step through the steel door that separates the two rooms. Gustavo remains behind, perhaps because he senses what I’m about to do.
“Hello, Alan. My name is Gavin Alexander, and I own The Red.”
Alan’s eyes gleam with excitement. “I know who you are.”
“Nah, I don’t believe you do.” I shake my head as I circle the table he’s sitting at. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have stolen from me.”
He follows me as I move closer, his smirk still on his face. “Technically, I didn’t steal from you. The cash is real.”
“Except, I wouldn’t be able to keep it if I report it, now would I? So, the question is, do I report it?”
The implications of what I just said seem to sink in and his grin falters. “You have insurance.”
“It doesn’t matter. You stole from me.” I shrug off my coat and hang it on the back of one of the other chairs tucked under the table. Then, I undo the buttons of the long sleeves on my white dress shirt, roll them up and lean against the table. “Look, I get it. The adrenaline rush from a hit is addictive. How much money have you won?”
“One fifty,” he says with a hint of pride in his voice.
“Not bad.” I motion to Gustavo to come in and extend my hand palm up. “Key.”
Gustavo looks at Alan, and I can see the pity in his eyes before he hands me the keys and takes a step away from us.
“You’re letting me go?” Alan’s brows shoot up in surprise.
I grab his wrists, but before unlocking the cuffs, I say, “Under one condition. I let you go. You can keep your earnings and bragging rights. Hell, I’ll even send you with a nice ten-thousand-dollar bonus. But you have to do something for me.”
“Fuck yeah.” He laughs. “What do you want me to do?”
Turning the key, I release the cuffs. “Deliver a message.”
He rubs the raw skin of his wrists. “Sure thing, boss. What is it?”
I move closer. “Tell your friends no one steals from The Red.”
Before he can ask me anything more, I grab the back of his head and push him forward with all my might. His face makes contact with the steel of the table and a resounding crack fills the room as his nose breaks.
Alan bolts upright, his hands cupping his nose. Blood oozes down his mouth and chin, staining his Hawaiian shirt, and he stumbles backward onto his ass. “What the fuck?!”
Stalking toward him, I grab him by the shirt and lift him. For a skinny guy, he’s surprisingly heavy, but I’ve got rage to give me strength. “I meant what I said about understanding that the adrenaline rush you get from a hit is addictive. I know it first-hand. Only, my rush comes from beating up dicks like you.”
While I hold him with one fist, I punch him with the other. His breath swooshes out of him and he doubles over, but I still don’t let go. Instead, I bring my knee up sharply, getting him in the ribs.
He falls onto his side, bleeding and gasping for air. I step over him with one foot, and peer down at his pathetic ass. Protectively, he covers his head with his arms.
However, I don’t intend on hurting him anymore. I need him to deliver that message, after all. Besides, I feel nothing when they don’t fight back. It’s pointless.
“Gustavo will get you the ten thousand. If I see any of the Chasers around The Red, I won’t call the cops. No, instead I’ll consider our agreement null and void. And I will hunt you down and cut you up into ten thousand pieces, one for every dollar you were paid. Is that clear?”
He nods as he sniffs and I realize he’s crying. Fucking pussy.
“I’m amending my message.” I bend closer to make sure Alan can hear me well. “Tell your friends no one steals from me.”
I look up to see Gustavo distastefully wiping a speck of blood that sprayed him. It’s not the stain that bothers him, but that it’s from a thief. He hates them almost as much as I do.
“I’ll get it taken care of, sir,” he says, and hands me my coat.
Taking it, I crack my neck and blow out a breath, feeling completely unsatisfied. It’s the anticipation of a large meal, and getting only an appetizer.
But that’s all right. The night has just begun.
* * *
“I’d love to be fucked on that stage someday. It seems so wicked, doesn’t it?”
I turn from the four-post bed on the main stage where one of the girls has been bound and is being hammered from behind.
Leaning against my private table is a sexy as hell brunette in an expensive red dress, an invitation evident in her dark eyes.
Gianna Hunting. I recognize the heiress immediately. Even if I didn’t see her face plastered everywhere advertising her reality show, she’s here often enough, spending all of her father’s money on champagne and caviar.
Letting my eyes trail over her, I say, “That can be arranged if you’d like.” She smiles, but it vanishes soon enough when I motion to my floor manager to come over. “Stella, this young woman would like to make use of one of our stages. Can you please assist her in choosing a partner?”
“I didn’t mean—” Gianna glances between Stella and me. “I meant you. I want to go up there with you.”
Taking a drink of my whiskey, I slowly shake my head. “Tempting as it might be, I don’t fuck my customers. It’s bad for business. You understand.”
“If you’ll come with me, I can take you to the Red Lounge where you may choose a partner,” Stella offers her.
Gianna narrows her gaze on me, then the edges of her artificially plumped lips pull up. Not surprisingly, she accepts. A woman like that thirsts for being the center of attention in all things, including sex.
Stella escorts her out of sight, to the room where she’ll be able to mingle with the cast willing to play with customers. We didn’t always have that room, but there was a demand for it and we aim to please.
That’s the thing about catering to the rich, the powerful and the very dirty. They don’t always want to just watch. Sometimes, they want to participate in the sinful acts that take place on the three stages here at the very secret Club Voyeur, located on the fifth floor.
Gianna Hunting is not the first and won’t be the last.
Whether or not she ends up acting out her fantasy won’t matter to me. I don’t notice anymore.
There are certain benefits that come with being the owner of several exclusive hotels and casinos, including my crown jewel, The Red. There are even more with being king of this underworld empire hidden in the belly of the beast.
I live in the lap of luxury with every service at my fingertips—cooks, tailors, valets. Sex and drugs.
There are also drawbacks—risks, enemies. Boredom.
Fuck, I’m so bored.
“Brad,” I call to the server dressed in a formal black suit. When he comes over, I say, “I’m leaving.”
His eyes wide because it’s only ten at night and I never leave before two in the morning, he says, “But your steak should be ready in a few minutes.”
I lift my hand to stop him. “Have Armand send it up to my place. I’m not feeling it tonight.”
“Of course, sir.”
After downing my drink, I set it on the table along with a hundred-dollar bill. As I head toward my private elevator, I pass the door that leads to the Red Lounge. Inside, I view Gianna sitting on Rob’s lap, her arms around his neck. He’ll take care of her. She’ll give him a huge tip. Everyone will go home happy.
Kurt, the security guard at my elevator, nods and presses the button that will take me to the penthouse.
“Calling it an early night, sir?” he asks.
“I’ve got work to catch up on,” I lie. The truth is, I’ll probably just waste away the hours watching the city from my high perch, wondering if there’s something I’m missing. Sensing it.
As we ascend, my cell phone buzzes. An alert to movement in my home. I frown because no one should be there at this hour. If a visitor had come, security would have alerted me.
“Have you received any notifications from the team about visitors?” I ask Kurt.
“No, sir.” He tugs his phone and glances at his screen.
As he’s saying that, I select the app that gives me access to the camera system inside the penthouse, something only I can do. That’s when I spot the shadow moving across the foyer, then plastering itself against a wall. For a moment, I’m not sure if I actually saw it or if it was a figment of my imagination. That is, until it moves again.
“There’s someone in my place.” I show him the footage.
“I’ll alert the guys.”
“Wait,” I say when I notice that the shadow has feminine curves and a long ponytail. “It’s a woman.”
Kurt squints at the screen. “Yes, it appears so.”
The girl crosses a patch of light cast by the moon through the window, and my breath hitches in my throat as she turns her face just enough that her lovely features come into view. Features I’d know anywhere because I’ve committed them to memory.
“It’s the housekeeper,” I tell Kurt, my lips pulling upward in sudden excitement. “Anderson Burrows.”
“Andie? What is that girl up to? Nothing good, that’s what.” He sighs and dials a number, then puts the phone to his ear. “Boss, we have a problem.”
I shake my head at him and place my finger to my lips. “We don’t.”
He scowls at me and asks, “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I pull my Glock from the holster at my waist.
Kurt nods. “If you’re sure.” To Gustavo, he says, “Never mind,” before hanging up.
This is definitely not a problem. If anything, this may be the excitement I’ve been craving. Certainly, the thought of catching Andie red-handed gives me the excuse to cross the hard boundary I set. I don’t fuck customers, the cast at the club, and definitely not the staff that work in my home. I never wanted to anyway. Until she showed up with pink rubber gloves, a bucket, and tight-ass jeans, ready to work for me.
Anderson Burrows. The girl with the record that’s been expunged, but no one comes into my casino without me knowing what color they shit. A past can only be hidden, never erased.
Even though she paid for her crime, it was grand larceny, and I wouldn’t have allowed her in my house. But her file was accidentally brought to me with other potential candidates, and I saw her fucking picture. It was her beauty that struck me first. All natural full lips, flushed cheeks and that damned pony tail that stopped me from tossing the file out.
However, it was her huge doe eyes that captured me, crystalline blue and so hopeful. Like she couldn’t believe she was being given the chance to work here.
I spent hours staring at that picture. Went to bed with it on my nightstand only to stare at it again the following morning.
From the start, I wanted her to work for me, but in a totally different way. Even though I knew it was a mistake, that I’d risk her stealing from me at some point, I wanted to see her in person.
It was a risk to hire her, not just to myself, but to her as well. I fucking hate thieves. And it was definitely a huge mistake, not because of her taking something from me, but because of what she does to my damned cock. Every time she steps into a room, my brain does battle with my dick. Fuck, it’s not even a true battle, not when my brain is the one conjuring every filthy image that makes all the blood rush to my groin.
At first, I allowed myself to watch her. I indulged in my fantasies. If she was on a stepladder dusting something up high, I’d envision sliding her shirt over her breasts and sucking on her nipples. If she was down low, on hands and knees, I’d see myself rolling her tight jeans over her ass and fisting her pony tail as I rammed into her.
However, I learned my lesson the day she came into my office to clean. I don’t think she expected me to be home. She stopped in her tracks as if she hit an invisible wall. My gaze immediately tracked the way she breathed, the way her chest fell and rose, and the flush that pinkened the swell of her breasts left exposed by her shirt.
The way she nervously licked her full lips only made me think of the way they’d look wrapped around my dick while I held that ponytail.
It made me so hard I couldn’t leave without exposing how much she affects me, and I had a meeting to get to.
Were she any other woman, I would have taken care of it right then.
But I don’t fuck my staff, so from then on I made it a point to avoid Andie at all costs, always exiting before the bulge in my pants became visible.
Not anymore.
We reach theforty-fourth floor and the doors slide open. I incline my head at Kurt and slip into the darkened penthouse.
Using my cell phone to guide me, I move stealthily through my bedroom toward the large closet.
A rustling sound alerts me to her presence and I freeze. I take another step, and she comes into view.
She’s crouched low, digging behind a pair of my expensive Louis Vuitton shoes, her sweet ass hugged by those jeans that drive me crazy. I click the hammer of my gun into place as I press it to the back of her head.
“Don’t move,” I warn.
Immediately, her hands go up, a stack of bills in her fist. “Please, don’t shoot.”
I snatch the money from her. “It’s not a good idea to steal from an employer, sweetheart. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”
“Please.” She spins as she stands and faces me, her blue eyes wide and her lower lip quivering. “I’m so sorry. I was desperate. Don’t call the police, I beg you. I can’t afford jail right now.”
“Then you should have thought twice before stealing from me.”
“It’s only a thousand dollars!” she exclaims. “You have billions.”
Her reasoning for taking my money has me holding in a burst of laughter. But it’s what she does to my body that has me wanting to fall for it. “Try again.”
“I was putting it back,” she says. “I swear it”
“You gotta do better than that.”
She bites her lower lip and I can see the wheels in her head spinning. “I’ll do anything if you don’t call the cops. Anything.”
Suddenly, the image of stepladders and her on her knees and the three platforms at Club Voyeur come to mind, and I come to a sudden realization. The lack of satisfaction in everything began the day Andie intruded on my life. Nothing gave me the same thrill it once had. Not fighting, or beating up some dickwad. Not even Club Voyeur.
But I find the idea of Anderson tied and naked, her breasts flushed the way they were that day in my office, very thrilling. In fact, I’d say it’s fucking addictive.
I can’t help it when my lips pull up in a grin. “Miss Burrows, it will take more than just anything to keep you out of jail. It will take everything.”