Page 135 of Roulette: The Madam

“Feels good hearing that.”

“Felt good seeing it.”

We settled in a comfortable silence. Israel was barely hanging on by a thread. Yawn after yawn coated the line. I couldn’t help the smile that lifted my cheeks. He was trying his hardest to stay awake, but it was tough.

By the time I made it into my garage, light snores could be heard on the other end. I pressed my back into the seat and lowered it slightly. Carefully, I listened as peace consumed him.

Once the fun ends, Israel will still be around. Ready and willing.

Baby’s words circled in my head as Israel fell deeper into his slumber. If I was ever ready to give my whole heart to a human, I hoped he’d still be around. Ready and willing. But, it wouldn’t be today. It surely wouldn’t be tomorrow. Until it happened, I planned to enjoy him fully.

FOURTEEN

The seven o’clock hour had come and gone. Yet, there was no sign of the man I was set to meet. This wasn’t his usual approach to potential partners. I’d learned from Roulette that this meeting was unlike any other. I wasn’t sure how to process the notion, so I didn’t. Instead, I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The knock at the door never came. So, at ten o’clock, I emerged from the room with my stomach touching my back and my throat dry as sandpaper.

The do not disturb sign was still on the door when I exited. I took the elevator to the second floor. In the corner, I stood with my hands collapsed in front of me. I headed down the long hallway after the doors parted for my departure.

Restaurants covered every end of the second floor. There were options galore. However, I quickly settled onMarsai Steakhouse. Upon entry, I was greeted by the host.

“Evening, sir. Reservations?”

“Uh. No.”

“Then the bar is open for you to enjoy. But, unfortunately, we’re booked for tonight and every other night for the next year.” He chuckled at the last bit of his statement.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Our guest reservations are booked far, far in advance.”

“I prefer the bar.” I shrugged, not very interested in a table.

“Then that works out perfectly. Room number please?”

“5109.”

“Mr—Kingston?”

“Yes.”

“Follow me, please.”

He grabbed a menu and led me through the restaurant. We passed the marble slab that served as a bartop. Confused, I continued, wondering where the hell he was headed. When we finally stopped at a secluded table, deep in the back of the restaurant, I tilted my head to see if he had hearing devices.

“We passed up the bar a minute ago.”

“I’m aware, sir. What I neglected to tell you is that we always reserve two tables for guests of our Presidential suites. Just in case you decide to make your way down, we want to make sure there’s always room for you here.”

I nodded. “Appreciate it.”

I unbuttoned the jacket of my suit and took a seat with my back toward the wall. The seclusion of the table had me tuckedaway from the crowd, but I could see everything and almost everyone. I grabbed the large menu and unfolded it to begin the search for beverages and entrees.

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