Page 49 of All Bets Are Off

“So … you’re actively working against the casino.” He waited for me to grasp whatever he was saying. “My father,” he added.

“How?” That was the part I couldn’t wrap my head around. “I’m just trying to help. They’ve been marginalized, and they’reresponsible for a big chunk of the happiness people associate with Vegas. You can’t take away their right to be paid fairly.”

“I’m not paying them!” Zach practically exploded. “They have to work out their payment issues with their individual venues. I’m not part of it.”

“You could be,” I persisted. “If you would put your name behind their effort?—”

“Stop talking, Olivia!” If looks could kill, I would be dead. He seemed to realize he’d exploded loud enough that people were beginning to look at us, and he collected himself. “You need to come with me.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” I reminded him.

“Maybe not, but I have obligations. As my wife, you have obligations as well.”

I narrowed my eyes to dangerous slits. “I need you to spell out what you’re saying.”

“I will.” Zach extended his hand again. “At home. Just … come with me, and I’ll explain.”

I darted a look toward Halley, who had twitching lips and sparkling eyes.

“I think you should go with him,” she said.

“But we still have things to discuss,” I protested.

“You know where to find me.” Halley’s gaze was thoughtful as it landed on Zach. “If there’s going to be static about this, then blame it on me. Say I bamboozled her or something, and she didn’t know better. She’s naive enough that they’ll buy it.”

Zach cocked his head. “Why would you offer that?” he asked finally.

“Because she really does want to help. She’s also shiny enough that she hasn’t been ruined by this city yet. Probably because she wasn’t raised in the bowels of it like we were.” Halley stood. “You should protect that shininess, not dull it.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Zach shot back.

“I don’t actually know what you’re trying to do,” Halley replied. “You’re not easy to figure out.” Her gaze moved to me. “Go with him. If he doesn’t want you here, I’m guessing he has a reason.”

“I do,” Zach confirmed. “A really big Ryder Stone-shaped reason.”

“But I’m not done helping,” I argued.

“Go.” Halley smiled. “You know how to find us. He’s not going to leave you alone today, though.”

Because she was right, I made a grumbling noise under my breath and stood. “You make me want to hurt you, and not in a good way,” I complained to Zach as I slapped his hand away and fell into step with him.

He darted a sidelong look toward me. “We need to talk,” he said finally.

“I can’t wait.”

“Yeah, you won’t be saying that when we’re done.”

I had no doubt he was right.

BECAUSE I WANTED TO IRRITATE MY HUSBAND—and how I was starting to loathe that word—I stopped at one of the dine-and-dash food locations for a sandwich. I ordered it hot—even though I was fine with a cold Italian sub—and then hemmed and hawed over the fry selection before ordering the garlic salt option. Even though they were fast—Zach’s glowering countenance as he watched them work meant that we were pushed to the front of the line—it was a good twenty minutes before we crossed the penthouse threshold.

I threw my notebook and purse on the floor in front of the couch—he hated it when I did that—and kicked off one shoe in front of the door before aiming the other at the hallway that led to my room. Then, slowly, I carried my food to the couch and satdown. All the while, I shot him a challenging look. I was daring him to mess with me.

The second he loosened his tie and sat across from me, I recognized he was accepting the dare.

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?” he asked in a low voice.

I didn’t particularly like his tone. “Um … I’m trying to help people who are being taken advantage of. They deserve a livable wage. Do you know they don’t get paid sick leave? Poor Halley has never had a paid vacation.”

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