Page 66 of All Bets Are Off

I wrapped my hand around her finger and squeezed. I wanted her to wrap something else of hers around something of mine … but I definitely didn’t have the time. “We don’t control how much the dancers are paid,” I reminded her.

“But you exert control over the club owners,” she argued. “If you refused to send your gamblers to their clubs, the dancers would have a new contract within three days.”

“Yes, but nobody wants to be the first one to publicly make that proclamation,” I reminded her. “It will backfire when the judgmental family groups get involved.”

“It’s Vegas,” she persisted. “Nobody expects family friendly fun from the gambling mecca of the world. It’s not fair. Everybody makes jokes about Vegas being the most debauched place in the world and yet suddenly the dancers—who desperately need that money—are being held up to unrealistic standards that nobody else has to live up to.”

“I know. I didn’t say it was fair.”

“You could talk to your father,” she wheedled, batting her eyelashes.

That was as much of a punch to the gut as her naked dancing sessions in the kitchen after a round or two of sex were to my penis. “Let me feel him out,” was all I could say. “I’m guessing he’s going to want to talk about that situation. It all depends on his mood.”

“I guess I’ll have to take that as a win.” The sigh Olivia let loose was so dramatic it reminded me—albeit briefly—of the little kid with braces. “What do you think he wants to talk to you about?”

“I don’t know.” I slipped my hand under her robe and ran it over her shoulder. There was little I loved more than indulging in the softness of her skin. “As soon as I know, you’ll know.”

“Okay.” She straightened my tie for me, which tugged on heartstrings I didn’t even know I possessed. “Try to be home at a reasonable hour. I’ll have dinner for you.”

I was understandably dubious. “You’re cooking?” That sounded nothing like her.

She seared me with a dark expression. “I’m picking up takeout.”

“Oh, really?” I folded my arms across my chest. “What is it you’ll be serving up?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait to find out.” Her voice was low and full of teasing. “It will be tasty, though. I promise you that.”

“Well, now I have something to look forward to.”

She was in my arms in an instant, her mouth hovering in front of mine. “Don’t forget me.” She gave me a passionate kiss, full of tongue.

I was lost in her to the point I was really considering missing my meeting with my father when I pulled back. “This is torture,” I complained.

“And yet it will be worth it when dinner rolls around.”

“You’d better hold up your end of the bargain.” I gave her a friendly swat on her behind before releasing her.

“Don’t I always?” she asked on a giggle, which happened to be my favorite sound in the world.

“You most definitely do.”

THERE WAS YET ANOTHER NEW SECRETARYoutside my father’s office when I arrived on his floor. My good mood—I was still floating on happiness after my “lunch”—crashed like a distressed plane. It was that one onYellowjacketswhereeverybody turned into cannibals after the fact. This time I decided to act on my annoyance.

“And you are?” I arched an eyebrow when the bottle blonde looked up from her phone, where she appeared to be perusing beauty tutorials. I only knew those were a thing because Olivia had led me to a channel run by my sisters and I realized that maybe they did a little more than plot my demise.

The secretary blinked. Then she blinked again. “I’m Candy,” she announced finally.

“Of course you are.” The only way the situation would’ve felt more absurd is if her name had been Petunia … or Lemon. Candy was almost as bad, though.

Candy might not have been as slow as my father’s previous two secretaries, because the gleam in her eyes told me she knew exactly what I was mocking when I said it. She clearly didn’t like it, either. “May I have your name?” she asked primly, her fingers poised over her keyboard. “Do you have business with Mr. Stone?”

The change in her demeanor would’ve made me smile under different circumstances. Heck, I wanted to laugh anyway. I managed to hold it together, though. Just barely.

“You can tell Mr. Stone that Mr. Stone is here to see him,” I replied.

Candy made an exasperated face. “Oh, right. Like I’m going to fall for that. There’s only one Mr. Stone.”

Ah, and there went my hope that she was deceptively smarter than she looked. “My name is Zachary,” I offered helpfully.

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