Page 2 of The Billionaire's Gamble

We continue to chat idly for the next portion of the flight before settling into our respective pastimes. As the plane begins its descent, we both take of our headphones.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” he says, reaching his hand out to mine.

I grip his hand, “Hannah,” I say in return.

We just stare at each other until landing… it’s weird but doesn’t feel wrong for some reason. As I gather my things I turn back to Dean.

“Well, Hannah, good luck with everything. I hope to see you again,” he says with a parting smirk.

“You, too,” I say, before being shuffled off in the sea of other passengers.

I really hope I see him again.

Chapter One

Four years later

Dean

I notice her the moment she walks through the door. Her long golden curls set her apart as she glides through the thick crowd on the dance floor. The way the lights catch in her hair makes it seem like a ball of liquid fire. Her little black dress clings to her curve in a very provocative way, cut low enough to leave a wandering gaze curious. Her heels, sleek and dangerously high, give her added height, making her legs look like they go on for miles.

There's a slight awkwardness to her steps, a funny wobble that suggests she isn't entirely used to such footwear. Yet, there's no denying her allure. She moves with a natural elegance, each step deliberate and fluid, as though the rhythm of the music flows through her veins. She is with two other women—a striking redhead and a sultry brunette.

But there is just something about the blonde that’s drawn me in. I’ve never felt such instant attraction to any woman… exceptonce. On a random flight to New York, but that was fleeting and confusing.And I haven’t stopped thinking about her since.

“You finally did it,” Paul Carlton says, his booming voice cutting through my thoughts like a hot knife slicing through butter. “The biggest casino in Vegas. Look! The place is filled to the brim!”

Carlton is an old friend and prospective business partner I met during my bartending days in Seattle. His family owns a prominent estate there, so he was able to help me with the logistics of opening a luxurious but not pretentious place of my own. Like me, he’s a very busy man, but couldn’t deny my invite to attend the opening night of The Lily.

“You exaggerate, my friend,” I say, tearing my gaze away from the honey-haired temptress on the dance floor. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Paul chuckles, raising his glass in a mock salute. “Still, you've outdone yourself, Dean, think of where you were when we first met.” I do. I think of my shitty childhood with a dad who was too drunk to care and a mom doing everything she could to hold it together when in reality, she was the farthest thing from it. I left home as soon as I could and grinded my way to the top, working odd jobs in restaurants and bars until I accidentally hit it big at a casino.

That night six years ago, I staked my last thousand dollars on a (drunken) gamble, and is paid off. That win changed my life and gave me the capital I needed to build The Lily.

As Paul and I continue sipping our drinks, my attention drifts back to the dance floor. My blondie is dancing now, her moves hypnotic and fluid, as if the music has taken physical form through her body. Her steps are otherworldly, each one a blendof sensuality and grace, her hips swaying in a rhythm that seems to pulse with the very beat of my heart. She spins, and her dress flares out just enough to give a tantalizing glimpse of her long, toned legs, making every move she makes a captivating sight. It's not just a dance; it's a performance, a display of raw, unfiltered emotion, making it impossible to look away. Over the years, I've seen lots of amazing dancers, but no one comes close. She's mesmerizing and I'm willingly trapped in her spell. Every other person in the room seems to have faded into the background and she’s the only one who exists. Her movements are like a siren's call, beckoning me with each sensual sway and turn.

I should take my eyes off her right now and enjoy my company; women aren't worth the trouble, after all… but I can't bring myself to look away.

“You seem distracted tonight, Sterling,” Paul says, his piercing eyes boring inquisitively into mine. “Something's got your attention.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I reply, leaning back in my seat with a lazy grin.

“Who's the lucky lady that's got you so captivated?”

I shake my head, trying to play it off. “Just admiring the ambiance, Carlton. It's not every day you see this place packed to the rafters.”

He laughs, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Come on, man. We both know you've got every bachelor in Vegas beat. Most eligible and all that. When are you going to settle down?”

I smirk, raising an eyebrow. “And give up my freedom? Not likely. I enjoy my life just the way it is.”

Mason claps me on the back, still chuckling. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. But from where I'm standing, it looks like someone’s finally caught your eye. Which is great. Maybe you’ll finally have someone to bring out with me and Kayla,” he says with a chuckle. Ever since he finally manned up and pursued his lifelong “best friend,” he’s been all for me coupling up.

"Maybe you're right," I reply, returning my gaze to the dance floor just in time to see my golden temptress waving off her friends as they head toward the games section. She keeps dancing, so lost in the music that the world might as well be nonexistent. I suddenly find myself craving that reckless abandon… that feisty fire burning through her soul.

I want her. Now.

“Maybe tonight's the night I change my mind,” I say, more to myself than to Paul, as I drain my glass and set it down.

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