Page 6 of The Billionaire's Buy-In

“Remember, if I win, you are mine for an entire weekend. Mine. In every sense of the word, firecracker.” He appraises my figure with a hungry gaze, his gray eyes darkening with need.

I gulp, my heart thudding rapidly in my chest. What exactly does that mean? I’m innocent, but I feel sure he doesn’t want me to clean his fancy penthouse or wash his clothes.

“In exchange,” he continues without missing a beat, “I will forget this,” he indicates to the room, “ever happened.” The bastard then smirks. “Well, I’m not forgetting all of ‘this’. I quite enjoyed parts of it." He pauses as if something just dawned on him. "By the way, you don’t need to worry about the window or the camera. No one was allowed behind the window, and the camera was shut off. I would never let anyone but me see your body, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God. I must have been out of my mind to have forgotten people could have been watching. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. When I remain silent, he says. “I’ll also pay you. More than enough to cover tuition and catch up on your rent.”

After a few moments of stunned silence, I blurt out, “You and me,” pointing from me to him. “I’m supposed to obey your every whim to be your sex slave for an entire weekend, no questions asked? Whatsaneperson would agree to that?”

Although I admit the very thought makes my sex tingle and my clit hum.

“You make me sound like a sex-starved pervert,” Chord says, offended. “I don’t need to negotiate or pay for sex.”

Of course he doesn’t, which still leaves me confused.Why me?

“You won’t be asked to perform sexually; however,” he adds, with a heated glance, “if you ask me to fuck you, firecracker, I won’t turn you down.”

“That won’t happen,” I snap. Although, I flush at the thought of begging this man to take me. Ridding me of the virginity I have clung to for so long. God, he would be amazing in bed. He’s already proven what he’s capable of when he made me come like a geyser on the table behind us. He’s such an alpha male, someone who could dominate and educate me as he rid me of my pesky v-card. My body aches with need at the thought.

As if he can read my naughty thoughts, he smiles wickedly. “You would be begging me before the weekend was over, I promise you.”

At least he’s enough of a gentleman to not bring up the fact I did, in fact, beg him just minutes ago. Clearing my throat, I attempt to take some control of the conversation. “Seeing as though I have no good options, I guess I have to take your damn bet.”

Besides, there’s a fifty-fifty shot, I might win. Right?

A weekend with Chord Gallo? Most girls would line up at the door for that experience, but I can’t stand the guy.

If my vagina could talk, she’d call me a big fat liar.

“Just toss the fucking coin.” I want to get this over with.

He winks in approval, palming the coin in his hand. “Heads, I win. Tails, you win.”

“I understand how it works. Just do it.” I grit my teeth.

He takes his thumb and with an expert flick, which I’ve never been able to master, the coin sails into the air. He deftly catches it again, covering it with his other hand. Glancing up, he makes eye contact. His smoldering gaze flashes with longing, but as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. As if he doesn’t want to appear too eager to win and collect his prize. That might, God forbid, expose a weakness. Chord Gallo must maintain his tough-guy image at all times, and tough guys don’t catch feelings.

The apprehension is killing me, and he knows it. He has a flair for the dramatic and the asshole is milking it for all its worth. Slowly and carefully, he removes his hand, revealing the coin.

Heads.

Of fucking course it’s heads.My shoulders slump in defeat.

Chapter 5

Chord

Passingthroughthecasinofloor on the way to my office, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride.

God, I love this place. It’s my pride and joy. The hum of the slots, the bells, flashing lights, and ringing of coins signifying wins to the smiling patrons on the main floor gives me a rush every time I walk through.

Pit bosses and dealers glance up warily because they aren’t sure if I’m here to congratulate them on a job well done or fire their ass. I make them nervous because of my reputation and the fact I don’t venture down from my ivory tower all that often. That’s okay. I enjoy keeping everyone on their toes and I have managers and Ryker to handle personnel and players. I don’t get brought in unless things get out of hand. At that point, shit has gone left and punishment has to be doled out. Those consequences can sometimes prove fatal, something we try to avoid if at all possible.

Everyone who knows me respects the fact I don’t enjoy socializing with people. I do, however, like observing people. People watching at a casino is extremely entertaining. People of all ages and varieties from young college-age students, the wealthy elite, to the elderly with their walkers and oxygen tanks prowl the floor hoping to win at the slots and tables. As long as I don’t have to interact with them, and they’re spending their money, I’m happy as a lark.

Speaking of being happy, I’m feeling pretty damn proud of myself as I enter the private elevator to my corporate offices. I have an entire weekend to convince Abbie Bates this could be forever. The idea of proposing the bet was a stroke of genius. A foolproof plan to ensure that she’d have to be in my presence for a full forty-eight hours. And a bet she couldn't turn down.

Was I bluffing? Hell yes, I would never turn her into the police or press charges, but as a gambler, I can bluff with the best of them. She believed every word.

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