Page 13 of Betting Her Curves

Patrick starts on the sofa, his expression surprised.

“Holy fuck, I wouldn’t have guessed.”

I shoot him a wry smile.

“Yeah, most people wouldn’t. When people hear high school dropout, they think I’m a lazy, uneducated bum who smokes pot on the reg. But they couldn’t be further from the truth. Ballet is a demanding sport, and we practiced hours every day, in addition to going to classes. I only dropped out of high school because a ballerina’s best years are around this age. Most dancers don’t last past their thirties. It’s sad, but it’s the truth.”

Patrick is thoughtful as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Yeah, I can see why. A lot of demanding sports chew up an athlete’s body and then spit them out. Athletes don’t last much even beyond their teens sometimes.”

I nod, my shoulders slumping.

“Yes, so I took a chance while I had it. I’m young, eager, energetic, and ballet is what I live for. But again, LVNB collapsed and so I had to find another way to pay the bills.”

The billionaire nods thoughtfully.

“Have you thought about going back to Buffalo and getting your degree?”

His comment is innocuous enough, and yet to my horror, tears begin to fill my eyes.

“Ihavethought about it,” I say in a stilted voice. Then I smile through the sheen in my eyes, even as the lump in my throat thickens. “But I won’t do it. I’m too proud to go back with my tail between my legs and not a penny to my name. Everyone in my hometown knows that I left Buffalo for bigger, better things, and I don’t want to embarrass myself or my family. My mom was so excited that she threw me a goodbye party when I left, and it would be such a disappointment to turn tail and head home as a huge failure.”

“A failure for them, or for you?”

I swallow again thickly. How the hell did we even get onto this topic? Why am I so emotional too? I thought I was here for some dirty play, yet instead, I’m baring my heart and soul to a man I barely even know.

Yet somehow, I feel comfortable with Patrick O’Lachlan. Maybe it’s his stern yet gentle demeanor. Maybe it’s the way he’s asked probing questions about my life, when hardly anyone ever inquires about my well-being. Maybe it’s just that I’m lonely and depressed here in Vegas, and he’s the only person who seems to want to get to know me.

“I would be a disappointment to everyone I know,” I mumble, looking down at my clasped hands. My vision blurs because these drat tears are back, and I swallow again. “I just can’t face the shame.”

Suddenly, Patrick moves. He’s so fast that I don’t realize what’s happened for a moment, but in a blink of an eye, he’s on the couch beside me and has lifted my curvy form so that I’m nestled in his lap. Those strong arms support my waist as he gently strokes the hair back from my face.

“My guess is that no one would be disappointed, sweetheart. At least not your friends and family, and certainly not anyone who loves you.”

To my utter horror, I begin to cry for real. Liquid slips down my cheeks as my face crumples, and a sob erupts from my throat.

“No, they would,” I stammer through my tears. “I was the golden girl, ready to embark on a professional career as a ballerina. And now look at me! Wearing slutty dresses while playing cards with men who are double my age. Not only that, but I’m trying to swindle them. I’m trying to take their money while making them look at my breasts.”

Patrick merely continues to stroke my hair, tenderly brushing it back from my forehead.

“It’s not swindling, sweetheart. Sure, you’re sexy, but there’s nothing wrong with providing a little eye candy as we play cards. It adds pizzazz to the game.”

I shoot him a look through the tears.

“Pizzazz? You’re very kind, but I’m not sure they would put it that way.”

Patrick chuckles deep in his chest, a sexy, masculine sound.

“I’m sure every man in the room tonight was thinking the same thing I was, which is that we were lucky to have a breath of fresh air in the stale rooms of the Degas. You know that the casino shit gets old, sweetheart. It’s always the same dudes ready for a hand, the same garish show girls, the same old people from Florida with an oxygen tank next to them. It’s rare for someone as fresh and pretty as you to show up. Maybe you were there to win, but who isn’t? I wouldn’t respect a dilettante.”

I clutch is broad shoulders, leaning against the comforting bulk of the alpha male.

“But Patrick, it’s worse than that,” I confess in a sob. “I was trying to swindle you. I cased the room yesterday afternoon, looking for advantages. I even took the measurements of the room because I wanted to see if there was any way I could gain an advantage.”

The huge man is silent for a moment, his chest like granite.Oh shit, I think to myself.I’ve blown it. Patrick O’Lachlan is going to dump me on the floor and then report me to the Degas. Not only that, but all the casinos in Vegas know each other. I’ll be banned from every table in Sin City.

Yet the big hand on my back begins rubbing comforting circles again, warming to my core. I turn to the billionaire, still a teary mess.

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