Page 88 of King of Depravity

I can hear the pout in her voice, and it sets my teeth on edge. Rush has a great deal of skill in this regard, and he makes a noncommittal sound that Barbara mistakes as sympathy.

“It’s been so hard, it was such a relief to come here even for a weekend. I’d love to stay longer, spend time with my daughter, but I can barely manage the hotel fees.”

Rush doesn’t say anything, focusing on Chloe and Killian as they pass us by on their way down the aisle.

Barbara doesn’t even look up to notice her daughter passing, as she keeps talking to Rush. “The three casinos you own, surely they have hotels attached?”

Rush shrugs. “My department is casino floor management. You’ll have to speak with Ryker about hotel stays.”

She huffs out a breath. “He said to talk to you since you comp the rooms at the casino level.”

“Huh,” Rush says, stepping past her to follow Killian and Chloe. I’d give her the room she wants to shut her up, but once you give into a person like that, she’ll come back for more until she’s run the well dry.

I step out into the aisle as well, Barbara falling into step next to me. “I bet you put your mother up in your hotels. You strike me as the son who takes care of a poor old woman.”

My brows lift, as I deftly dodge the request. “My mother doesn’t like staying in hotels, and she doesn’t wish to burden her sons, so she bought a house in Vegas for her visits.”

Barbara sniffs, clearly annoyed by my answer. I didn’t lie. My mother dislikes hotels and with the amount she comes to stay in Vegas, she thought it better to buy a home and staff it.

Killian and Chloe stop at the other end of the room next to the glass door that leads outside. We’ll have a quick drink outside while this room is changed over for the sit-down dinner.

Killian and Chloe could have made this as elaborate as they wished, but neither wanted a big event. Between all that’s happening here in Vegas and their own preferences, small made sense.

Beautiful bouquets of bright tropical flowers are brought in to match the garden outside as the chairs we just sat in are rearranged to accommodate the tables. Barbara clucks her tongue. “So tacky.”

My jaw clenches. Tacky is hitting up your new in-laws for free shit.

Chloe’s taste in flowers is excellent. She likes bright colors, artistic flare, and they match the setting perfectly. Most of the guests are already outside the now-open doors, helping themselves to champagne and oysters. A warm breeze blows into the room as I follow the group out.

Barbara snaps her fingers. “You,” she calls over to one of the set-up crew. “Is there anything to drink besides Champagne? I prefer a chardonnay.”

I turn too, to tell Barbara that the bartender is the better person to make this request. But I stop as my gaze collides with the woman Barbara has asked.

Light grey eyes meet mine, large and haunting and framed with thick, long lashes. Her dark hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few tendrils framing her face.

Her features are delicate with lips so full and lush…

My eyes dart down her body, noting her slender but curvy frame, accentuated by a crisp white oxford and fitted black pants.

She looks away from me, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll find that for you right away.”

And then she’s gone.

Barbara makes a pleased purr next to me and then sails out into the garden, helping herself to an oyster before she picks up one of the pre-poured glasses of champagne.

I need to go out and congratulate Killian and Chloe. I’ve got a gift for them as well.

It isn’t traditional. In fact, it’s not even a present I could wrap. Instead, it’s a promise to them both. If anything happens to Killian, I will make it my first priority to see to Chloe’s well-being.

But I don’t head outside. Instead, I wait for the waitress to return.

I’ve seen all manner of beautiful woman. But there is something so vulnerable in her features, gentle in her manner, that I find myself intensely curious.

She appears again walking toward me, but stops, looking for Barbara.

“Allow me,” I volunteer, closing the distance between us. But instead of taking the glass from her hand, I reach into my pocket, brandishing a card with my personal number.

I take the drink and then hand her the card.

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