Page 1 of High Roller

Chapter 1

Gracie

“Comeon,CamCam.You just got serviced. Don’t do this to me. Not here. Not now.”

Cam Cam is my pride and joy, and I do my best to take care of her. I paid off the bright red Toyota Camry a few months ago and now I’m able to save money again. Her coughing protest and refusal to start? Rude. And also just my luck.

The parking lot is dark, the kind of dark that has you looking over your shoulder a dozen times as you walk to your car. The kind that seems to be barely fazed by the flickering streetlights at the edges of the lot. I shift in the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview out of habit, but it’s too dim to see much behind me. I’ve been out with friends, and all I want now is to get home, take off these torture devices they call heels, and scrub off the nightclub sweat. The air inside my car is stale and smells of the perfume of three other girls and a cocktail one of them snuck into my backseat after we left the last place. It’s going to take forever to get rid of the stench.

This isn’t a part of Las Vegas I usually end up in, but I let Sabrina and her friends talk me into one more stop before we headed home for the night. Of course, once we got inside and I realized what a seedy club we’d ended up in, I wanted to go home right away. The one sad cocktail I ordered wore off hours ago, and I’m cranky, overtired, and regretting every time I said yes to Sabrina tonight.

She’s my roommate, and I’m grateful for the help with rent, but sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it with the way she likes to drag me into her nights out.

I turn the key again and Cam Cam jerks and coughs just enough to give me hope—then dies again.

“Damn it.” I dig my phone out of my purse and scroll through recent texts. Who the hell can I call at this hour? Roadside assistance is a luxury I can’t afford right now.

With a sigh, I tap Victor’s name. He’s not my first choice, but he’ll answer. We’ve been friends since high school, and even tried sleeping together a few times, but his family was dead set against our relationship, so we always kept it friendly.

College put a strain on our relationship for… other reasons, but when I dropped out and found myself in a tough situation, he convinced me to move to Las Vegas with him and his friends, and I’ve been here ever since. Moving here was the right choice. Vegas has been good to me, but sometimes it still feels like my life is stuck in the wrong gear.

A shadow moves across the car, catching my attention. Someone leans against the brick wall, a man in a dark hoodie. His face is mostly hidden. He lights a cigarette and the spark of his lighter is just bright enough to catch the outline of his cheekbone and the stubble on his jaw.

The phone rings in my ear as the lighter goes dark.

“Come on Victor. Pick up.”

“Butterfly? Are you OK?”

“My car won’t start, and I’m not sure where I am. I followed Sabrina and her friends.”

Victor is quiet for a moment, and I think we’ve been disconnected. This neighborhood’s signal is trash.

“Share your location with me. I’ll get you and we’ll call a tow truck if we can’t jump start the car.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and open the location sharing app Victor insisted I install a few months ago when I went hiking on a new trail. He wanted it on twenty-four-seven. Yes, he’s a paranoid, overprotective bastard. But the idea of someone always having my location creeped me out. Tonight? I’m grateful for the option of sharing it.

I flip the toggle to share my location, and tap Victor’s name when the list of contacts pops up.

“It’s sent. I’m really sorry about this.”

“Don’t worry about it,Mariposa. You know I’ll always rescue you.”

I blush at his sweet words. Sometimes I think he’s sweet with me on purpose because he cares about me, and if he realized he was being sweet he would stop. Victor has a reputation for being a grumpy asshole at the BDSM club he is part owner in. But he’s called me butterfly or the Spanish variant, Mariposa, since we met in high school, and it still gets to me every time I hear the endearment come out of his mouth.

“I’m about twenty minutes away. Tell Sabrina to stop dragging you to shit holes. If you want to party, let me set you up with one of the VIP lounges Matteo oversees.”

“OK dad,” I tease.

“Watch it, Butterfly. Your ass is mine Friday night.”

My thighs clench. “Yes, Sir.”

The honorific isn’t just a habit. It’s survival instinct. He’s right. I am his on Friday night. We’ve got a needle scene scheduled, and if he’s so inclined, he can make it less than pleasant.

Needle play isn’t for everyone. Like most kinks, it takes trust. But it also takes skill. Someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. Victor is an artist with his tools, and it’s the artistry that appeals to me.

“I’m already on my way.” His stern tone interrupts my pokey little rabbit hole and I sit up a little straighter. “If the nightclub is still open, go back inside. Otherwise, keep your doors locked until I get there.”

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