Page 28 of Royal Player
“Back to French?” he asks in English.
I blink. I don’t usually revert to French away from home. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”
His lips curve up just enough to make the slight indent of a dimple appear in his scruffy cheek. I hadn’t noticed that before. “We were speaking in French at the party last night. Maybe your mind flipped back to then.”
“Yes. That must be it.” But I’m troubled. French is my first language, and I speak it instinctively in times of drunkenness and in times of distress, neither of which I am now.
“How’re you feeling after last night?” he asks in a low tone.
I smile. “No hangover, if that’s what you’re asking. I drank a lot of water when I got back to the room to prevent dehydration.”
Adrian and Lucas greet me, and I offer them a belated hello.
Adrian says, “Let’s go,” and leads the way.
We follow him through an employees-only door and then through a long hallway with a series of offices with open doors. I’m pumped to hear what Charles has to say. I don’t care about other possible investors he might dangle in front of us. I want to hear his insight on the casino business.
When we get inside his office, Charles comes out from behind his desk to greet us, shaking the men’s hands. He turns to me, holding his hand out to me, palm up. He wants to do the lift and kiss.
I shift my hand to clasp his and give him a firm handshake. “Hello. Nice to see you again, Charles.”
“And you,” he murmurs. “Please, let’s sit at the table.” He gestures to a round table in the corner of the room.
I head over and Charles holds out my chair for me, tucking it in as I sit. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he says warmly by my ear.
He’s a flirt. I don’t care. I’m here for business.
~ ~ ~
Oscar
I want to punch the guy. Charles is practically slobbering over Polly, and I didn’t miss him checking out her ass when he pulled her chair out for her. She’s wearing a white short-sleeved dress that flares out in a skirt that barely covers her ass. I get it, she’s sexy as hell, but show some respect. This is a business meeting.
After everyone’s seated, Charles offers us some water from a pitcher on the table, which we politely decline. After a bit of small talk, Charles steeples his fingers, resting his hands on the table, and says, “What can I help you with?”
Adrian jumps in. “To start, I’d like to know if you have leads on potential investors.”
Polly sits up straighter. I know she wants in, but I don’t think we can count on her to get access to her money.
Charles inclines his head. “I will put the word out and see who I can come up with.”
“I’d like to know profit margins on a casino,” Lucas says. “Also, start-up costs and operating costs.”
“New construction for a small casino will run in the range of ten million euros,” Charles says. “It is not a venture to be taken lightly.”
Adrian exchanges a look with me. The number isn’t a surprise, just confirmation. And it’s more than we have combined. Plus there’s operating costs. We need more capital from an investor. Lucas refuses to take on more debt with a loan. The casino is out of reach at the moment. We can only hope for a referral to an investor down the line. Unless I sold my vineyard in Italy. I don’t want to do that. It’s the first thing I bought with money I earned from my football playing days, which is something I can never be again. I hoped one day to build a house there for me and my future family. My father wanted that for me, and I still remember how proud he was that I had my own land, my own “personal kingdom,” as he put it. Now it’s worth much more than I paid. Adrian knows my attachment to it and would never ask me to sell.
Charles goes on. “A popular casino could make close to a million euro a day. All of this depends on so many things—number and type of guests, the kind of games you offer, the stakes.”
Polly leans in. “Let’s assume the casino has the top moneymakers for the house—slots, baccarat, blackjack, roulette—and a steady clientele of high rollers.” She turns to Adrian with a smile. “Poker can favor the players, as you well know.”
He grins.
Charles starts throwing out numbers like he’s trying to impress her with all of his percents and euros. My head is starting to swim with the math, but Polly is right there with him. It’s almost like a math battle that they’re both thoroughly enjoying.
I glance at Adrian, who’s paying sharp attention. He’s the numbers guy. I plan to be the marketing guy.
