Page 42 of My Billionaire Casino Boss

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice the man approaching us until he’s standing right next to me. He’s tall, with slicked-back hair and a smug smile on his face. I recognize him instantly—he’s Ralph Bailey, another casino owner, a rival of sorts, though he doesn’t seem to know it. I’ve never been able to stand his sleazy attitude.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, his eyes flicking between Eric and me. “If it isn’t Thomas and his sidekick. Heard about your little scandal.” I grunt and look back at my drink, hoping he gets the message. He doesn’t.

“I mean, it’s funny that people actually bought into it, though. Like you’d seriously date some mousy little desk girl! Even if she’s a ten under that uniform, my boy can do better, am I right?”

Eric looks at him and starts to say something, but before he gets the chance, I’m on my feet, fists clenched, blood boiling. Before I’ve fully decided to do it, my fist is colliding with his face. I hear the crunch of his nose breaking and I see the shock in his eyes but I don’t feel any satisfaction. All I feel is a hollow emptiness, and I don’t let up. I’m on top of him now, landing blow after blow while Eric tries to haul me away.

The bar erupts into chaos, people shouting, and chairs scraping. I can hear Eric calling my name, but it’s like he’s underwater. All I can focus on is the man in front of me, the blood streaming from his nose.

Blood. Oh, that’s a lot of blood.

I’ve taken it too far, I realize and it’s too late to take it back. All I can do is stand there, my hand throbbing, my heart pounding in my chest. I turn to leave, but the guard from the door is in my face. “No way, man. Sit down and wait for the cops.” I hang my head and don’t argue.

Ten minutes later, I’m led into a police car. The cop gives me an apologetic shrug, no doubt recognizing me, and I wonder briefly if I can get out of this, but I dismiss the idea. I know I deserve this, and I’m too exhausted to flash my white teeth and pretend it’s all been a misunderstanding.

At the station, I’m processed and thrown into a holding cell. It’s cold and sterile, the metal bench hard and unforgiving. I sit down, my mind racing. I can’t believe I let my anger get the best of me—can’t believe I let myself lose control like that. It’s humiliating.

I spend the night in the cell, too ashamed to send Eric or my parents to an all-night bondsman. I’ll do my penance tonight and ask Eric to take my card to the ATM tomorrow.

The hours drag on in a haze of regret and self-loathing. I can’t sleep nor escape the thoughts that are racing through my mind. I go over the night’s events in my head repeatedly, each time wishing I could go back and be less of a drunk idiot.

When morning comes, I step out into the bright morning light, squinting against the harsh glare. I feel exposed and embarrassed. This isn’t a position I’ve ever been in, and I skulk away from the station, feeling disgusting in yesterday’s beer-scented clothing.

Instead of fixing the mess with Lily, I’ve added another complicated layer. I’ve created more obstacles to make things right with her. It’s all I can think about coming home in my Uber ride of shame.

twenty-four

Out With A Bang - Lily

Thefirstweekatmy new job is nothing short of a disaster. The work is monotonous, the hours are long, and my coworkers are distant and aloof. I feel like an outsider, a feeling only exacerbated when I overhear two of my colleagues whispering in the break room.

“Did you hear about the new girl?” one of them says, her voice hushed. “She was the one engaged to the casino guy.”

My heart drops into my stomach. I knew it was only a matter of time before the news of my fake engagement reached my new workplace but after hearing them I feel a wave of humiliation washing over me. I can feel their eyes on me, their whispers echoing in my ears. I’m the subject of office gossip, the punchline of a joke I never wanted to be a part of.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, I hear about Thomas’s arrest. It feels like the news is everywhere, and while I try to convince myself it’s not as big a deal as it seems, the details of his bar fight and subsequent arrest are clearly the topic of hushed conversations and whispered speculations. Despite everything I still feel sympathy for him. I know what it’s like to be the center of unwanted attention, to have your mistakes laid bare for all to see. But then I remember that I only know that feeling because ofhim.

I consider quitting, consider packing up my things, and leaving this place behind but something stops me. A stubborn determination, a need to prove to myself that I can stand on my own two feet. I refuse to let Thomas’s mistakes dictate my life, refuse to let his actions define me.

So, I square my shoulders and hold my head high. I ignore the whispers, the sidelong glances. I throw myself into my work, focusing on the task at hand rather than the gossip swirling around me. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary. I need to prove to myself, and to everyone else, that I’m more than just Thomas’s fake fiancée.

At least that was the plan.

“Lily, could you come into my office, please?” My boss’s voice echoes through the open-plan office, and I feel a dozen pairs of eyes turn to look at me. I swallow hard, pushing down the knot of anxiety in my stomach as I make my way to her office.

“Have a seat,” she says, gesturing to the chair opposite her desk. Her tone is formal, her expression unreadable. I sit down, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” she begins, folding her hands on her desk. “Your connection to Thomas Ward has become a distraction. It’s affecting the team’s productivity and the overall atmosphere in the office. And it’s not the kind of attention we want for the firm. I’m sure you understand.”

I feel a rush of anger. “So, what? You’re firing me because of something I have no control over?”

Selena shakes her head. “Not firing. Of course not.” I exhale, but then I notice her grimace. “I’m asking you to resign,” she adds.

Come on, Thomas. Because ofhismistakes andhisactions, I’m losing another job. I feel a surge of fury toward him, a bitter resentment that he’s still managing to ruin things for me even now.

When the initial shock wears off, I realize I’m a little relieved. I’m not as devastated as I think I should be. Yes, it’s humiliating to be asked to resign, and yes, I’m angry at Thomas for putting me in this position. But the truth is, I hate this job. I don’t fit in here, and I don’t feel even the slightest bit fulfilled or challenged by the work. Maybe this is the push I needed to find something better.

“I understand,” I say finally, my voice steady. “I’ll have my resignation letter to you by the end of the day.”

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