The Billionaire's Bet Read online

  Shit.

  I admitted that I wanted Briana. There was no point in hiding my attraction to her, especially from myself. But would I end up sleeping with her? Absolutely not. Enzo fucked escorts as a way to feel less guilty about cheating on his wife. I hired them for a whole other reason, and I didn't intend to change that anytime soon.

  No matter how drawn to Briana I was.

  6

  Briana

  Vegas had a weird charm to it that I'd never been able to describe properly to visitors. They came in and wondered how anyone could live here, pointing out that the strip was a shit show on the best of days, and living in the desert was nobody's ideal. A visitor had once commented that Sin City was like a giant amusement park for adults.

  But Vegas meant something different for me. There was the strip, sure, and all that went with it. The gambling and the tourists, the pleasure, and the sin. But when you stepped away from all that, there was something romantic about the sunbaked scenery and living alongside a pulsing hotbed of excitement.

  A majority of the greats had called this place home over the years, if only for a day or two. It wasn't where I wanted to live for the rest of my life, but it was where I was building my career now. Once I was financially secure, I'd look into other places to work and live. Maybe another big city, but one with a different kind of vibe like Chicago or New York. Some place where Mikala could see snow.

  And I wouldn't mind a change from the virtually non-stop heat that I'd lived with every summer while growing up in Oklahoma, and then moving here.

  I stepped through the front door of the little rancher I shared with my roommate, Tiffany, and sighed happily as the air-conditioned breeze hit my face. I definitely wouldn't miss these summers if I was able to move further north.

  “How did it go?” Tiffany called from the kitchen. “You're just in time to tell me all about it before I head to work.”

  I slipped off my heels and walked across the cool tile to the kitchen. Tiffany was chugging a glass of water, no doubt hydrating for the long night of dancing ahead of her. Her copper colored pixie cut shone in the evening light. It was pin straight, ends a little frayed. I expected she'd be getting a haircut soon, since she never kept one hairstyle for long, but she was the sort of beautiful that could wear pretty much anything and look good. At twenty-six, she looked at least four or five years younger than she was, and I reasoned she'd probably keep having people think she was in her twenties well into her thirties.

  “I think it went well,” I said as I leaned against the counter. “They seemed to be enjoying themselves when I left. I got them into the hotel. That's half the battle.”

  She laughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her skin sparkled from her glittery moisturizer, but she hadn't yet put on her make-up. She usually saved that for when she got to the club, preferring instead to stay fresh-faced as long as possible. Even without it, her skin was flawless, her blue eyes electric.

  She was the sort of woman other women wanted to hate simply on principle, but she was so tough and fiercely loyal that I couldn't help but love her.

  I texted her earlier to tell her about the assignment Earl had given me, and to ask if she'd be around this weekend to watch Mikala if needed. Unfortunately, she was working tonight, which meant I'd been forced to ask Elroy to keep my baby a bit longer. I wanted to leave my plate open in case Dorian and Enzo needed anything. One more night with her father versus the advantages I could give her if I landed this job seemed worth it.

  “That's the best you can hope for, I think.” She smiled, teeth perfectly white and straight. “And I meant to text you back, but I fell asleep. I can totally watch Mikala for you the next couple days if you need me to. After I get off tonight, I'll be free until Wednesday evening.”

  I sagged with relief. “That means a lot, thanks. I don't know how long those guys are staying, and I want to stay free in case they need something. I know it's a huge pain in the ass, but this could mean a huge promotion for me.”

  “Think nothing of it, my love.” She glanced down at the time on her phone on the counter, then shoved the device into her purse. “Gotta get going. Lots of horny men waiting to ogle my goodies and put some money in the bank.” She winked at me as she headed for the door, calling over her shoulder as she went, “I'm grabbing milk on the way home, so don't worry about running to the store!”

  “Thanks!”

  When I told people I lived with an exotic dancer, they usually pictured some big-boobed girl with hair extensions, plastic surgery, and a drug habit, but that wasn't Tiff at all. In fact, at most of the high-class strip clubs in Vegas, pretty much the only part of that description that applied was the plastic surgery, which was usually related to the large breasts. Tiffany had an athletic build, and the last man to suggest she get implants had gotten a knee to the crotch. Granted, he'd been grabbing her ass at the time, but I was pretty sure she was just as pissed about the comment as the groping. If the men at the club had known that, in addition to the ballet classes she'd taken growing up, she'd been kickboxing since she was nineteen, I doubted they would've dared to look at her cross-eyed.

  The best thing was, she was just as fierce when it came to protecting Mikala and me. She'd taken us in when we'd had nowhere else to go, supported me, given me the strength I'd needed to raise my daughter. I didn't know what I would do without her.

  As I heard the door close behind her, I checked my phone and saw that Elroy had texted me.

  ur gonna owe me big time 4 this be here at 8 tomorrow or there's gonna be hell 2 pay I got shit 2 do

  I sighed, half because of his atrocious grammar, and half because that was about what I'd expected from him. It was always about him, even when it came to our daughter. He took her on weekends when it was convenient for him, then used it as leverage against me. I had a bad feeling I'd be paying for this extra night, but right now, it was worth the future cost.

  At least most things seemed to be going my way today. An amazing job opportunity, Elroy had at least agreed to keep Mikala, and Tiffany was getting milk on her way home. That meant I could enjoy the rest of the milk in the fridge in my cereal for dinner without feeling guilty, and that I had the whole place to myself for the next eight hours or so.

  Well, unless the Gianelli brothers needed something from me.

  Dorian's image immediately popped up in my mind, though I knew it hadn't been far to begin with. There was something about him.

  His suave, charming smile. The way his hair curled over on his temple, likely the trace of a cowlick he’d tamed over the years. Or at least attempted to tame.

  And his body. God, his body! I smiled just thinking about it. The simple dress slacks and white dress shirt had been perfectly tailored – no doubt specifically for him – and they showcased his athletic build and long, lean legs.

  He probably looked even more amazing naked.

  A blush crept up my cheeks, and not for the first time, I found myself wondering how long it'd been since a man had made me blush. I was only twenty-four, but I knew it'd had been years. Probably not since before Mikala was born. Definitely not long after.

  Yet Dorian had made it happen. More than once. A look, a smile. Just the thought of him was enough to bring it on.

  A thin strand of desire coiled in my stomach, new and unexpected enough to make me catch my breath. When I first met Elroy, I'd experienced that head spinning, stomach clenching sort of arousal. But I was a teenager then, and I'd learned all too quickly that it didn't last.

  I pushed the thoughts aside as I made my way to the bathroom, wishing I could take a long, leisurely bath and relax the rest of the evening. I had to be close to my phone and able to leave if he – if they – needed something.

  But I also needed to get some sleep in case a call came in the middle of the night.

  Except I was far too tense to sleep. I was too keyed up to even manage to drift like I had so many times when Mikala was first born, and I'd been worried I'd sleep th
rough her crying.

  There was one way, I knew, I could ease some of this tension. In the three years since I left Elroy, I hadn't done it often, and perfunctory had always been the word for it. Right now, however, I found myself wanting to do it. Needing it, actually, and for more than just the release.

  It was definitely unprofessional. But who was going to tell me I couldn't fantasize about the handsome high roller in the privacy of my own home? It had been a long time since I'd had the place completely to myself, and something about my afternoon with Dorian had put me on edge in a way no interaction with a man had in a very long time.

  I slipped out of my pencil skirt and unbuttoned my shirt, letting them slide silently to the floor as I crawled on top of the covers of my bed. For the first time in years, I let myself indulge in reverie.

  I imagined that the cotton under my palms and knees was silk instead. The silk of his bedspread, perhaps. Fortunately, I knew what the suite I'd given them looked like, so I was able to create a quite vivid picture in my head as I leaned back against the pillows.

  I closed my eyes and let the hand that slid along the curve of my breasts turn into his hand. I remembered the way it felt in the brief moment I'd held it – rough and calloused. I tried to imagine how it would feel if he touched me, how my body would quiver and quake for him.

  I flicked open the front clasp of my bra and moved my hand over bare skin. As my free hand slid across my belly, I squeezed my breast. A shiver ran through me as I teased my nipple, rolling and tugging the sensitive flesh. I was already wet by the time my finger dipped between my folds and started massaging that delicate bundle of nerves.

  Dorian's smile flashed behind my closed eyelids. He seemed like the type who rarely smiled, and almost never smiled with any sincerity. He was a brooder, the sort of man who worried over a problem until he found a solution. Now, I pretended that all that focus was being applied to me and my pleasure.

  I knew I was getting a bit overly detailed in my fantasy, but hell, it was my fantasy, wasn't it?

  I could almost feel his mouth moving across my skin. Light kisses over my breast and down my stomach, heading down to where my fingers were still moving in tight, slow circles. I let out a soft moan as I imagined what it would be like to have his mouth on my breast, licking and sucking my nipples. If he'd use his teeth or be gentle. If he'd work a finger into me while still paying attention to my breasts, or would that be when he'd start moving down between my legs.

  I pictured him hiding his smile against my thigh, the faint scruff on his cheek rough against my soft skin. Maybe his raven-black hair would be a little messed up, but neither of us would care. I'd just want to run my fingers through it, see if it was as soft as it looked.

  And then, as he buried his head between my legs, I'd cry out his name...

  I arched up and moaned, orgasm beating at the fringe of my awareness. I was nearly there, and each stroke of my fingers brought me closer to ecstasy and further away from reality. Deeper into my fantasy.

  The hot press of his lips on my clit, the movement of his finger inside of me, and a dark chuckle as I came apart in his hands...

  I cried out and fell back on the bed, shuddering with the force of my climax. Holy shit, that was intense. When was the last time I'd come that hard?

  I just lay there for a while, letting my breathing and pulse slow as I enjoyed the peace and quiet.

  It'd been a little over the top, I supposed, but given the fact that I would never actually sleep with Dorian, that wasn't really a problem for me. He wouldn't be interested in someone like me. I had more baggage than a commuter train and was no more glamorous than any random woman he could find anywhere. I had no doubt that Dorian Gianelli dated supermodels who didn’t do anything more strenuous than pose and probably wouldn't drink out of the tap if they were dying of thirst.

  The day had been long and stressful. I was exhausted, especially after that orgasm, and now all I wanted to do was eat, shower, and crash. I skipped the cereal and made myself some pasta and ate it in front of the TV. As soon as I finished eating, I showered and then headed straight back to bed. If nothing else, I should sleep well.

  That was my last thought before I fell into unconsciousness.

  At first, I thought it was my alarm. That loud, insistent ringing that somehow managed to rattle my bones from across the room. Then I realized that it was still dark out.

  I sat bolt upright and lunged for my phone in the darkness, the light from its screen telling me where I'd left it. Panic sent adrenaline racing through my veins. Was it Mikala? Had something happened to her?

  But it wasn't my ex's name on the caller ID. It was a private number, which confused me for a moment until I remembered that I currently had two VIP clients who could reach me by my personal cell.

  “Hello?” I answered, hoping I didn't sound like I'd just woken up. Even if it was well past midnight.

  “Briana, it's Dorian.”

  My heart did a flip in my chest, and I couldn't decide whether it was a good thing or not. What Dorian said next, however, captured my attention completely.

  “I need you to come right away. Enzo's in trouble.”

  7

  Briana

  I’d only been asleep for a couple hours when I got Dorian’s call, but I woke up quickly as I grabbed the first thing I could find in my closet, yanked my hair up into a twist I hoped looked intentionally messy rather than just sloppy. I slipped on a pair of flats and grabbed my purse, heading out the door less than five minutes after I ended the call.

  Nearly one in the morning was practically dinner time in Vegas, so there was a ton of activity on the strip as I drove the short distance to the casino and handed my car off to the valet.

  Dorian hadn't given me any more information to go by on the phone, only that my presence was needed right away. The place wasn't on fire, so I supposed that was a good thing as I took the elevator straight up to the top. No cops on the floor, so again a good thing, but I still didn't know what to expect when I walked into their suite. Hopefully, it wasn't because they had a corpse in there. That might be a bit above my pay grade.

  With Enzo, though, I wasn't about to discount anything. He had the kind of inflammatory character that I was sure had gotten him into all kinds of trouble over the years. I presumed that was why Dorian was so much more withdrawn. It couldn't be easy, having to be a big brother to his big brother.

  I just hoped that the worst hadn't happened. It would be impossible to explain to my boss, and I doubted I'd ever see Dorian again.

  And the fact that those were the two things I thought of before anything else was definitely going to be problematic.

  The scene inside the suite was calmer than I'd expected and a rush of relief went through me. Dorian opened the door with a serious expression, beckoning me inside with an impatient wave of his hand, making me think that I should have stayed at the hotel.

  Too late for that now, but it was something to think of in the future.

  I took in the room, taking care not to grimace at the pile of bloody towels on the coffee table. Okay, maybe not quite as good as I first thought. Enzo was sitting on the couch, holding another towel to his forehead. It must have been a fresh towel, as the soft white linen hadn't yet taken on the coppery-red color the others had.

  That was going to be a bitch to get out. Probably easier to just pitch them.

  “This looks...problematic.”

  Enzo looked up and scowled at me with bloodshot eyes.

  I winced. “Sorry. Let's get someone up here right away.”

  With that, I tactfully backed into the next room and pulled out my phone. At least I knew who to call for this.

  Tovi Hall. When I first started working for the casino, I'd been surprised to discover just how often these little late-night medical emergencies occurred. When the rich and famous played, they played hard. Assisting our guests in avoiding embarrassment was probably at least half of the job, truth be told. And a lot of that was a
ccomplished by keeping them away from paramedics, hospitals, and the cops. That's where Tovi came in.

  “Can you see what the cut's from?” Tovi asked after I explained the basic problem.

  In the background, I could hear her scrambling to get her things together. She lived nearby, so I didn't expect her to be long. We hadn't spent much time together, but I'd observed her to be efficient and thorough, so I felt comfortable trusting her.

  “I don't know.” My voice was low and quiet. I didn't know what else Tovi was going to ask, and I didn't want to suddenly lower my voice, making them think something was more wrong than it was.

  “Tell him to put pressure on the wound and not to fall asleep. I'll be there in no more than twenty minutes.”

  I hung up, wondering what the hell I was going to do with the brothers for twenty minutes that didn't involve standing around looking like an idiot. The atmosphere in the living room was tense, leading me to wonder if Enzo's laceration was the result of an argument or scuffle between the two of them. I hoped not, because I really didn't want my first assignment to result in having to separate two high-profile guests.

  Which meant I needed to work on figuring out what happened and diffusing the tension.

  I stepped back into the living room. “Our in-house medic is on her way.”

  Dorian's attention shot to me, but Enzo was still looking off into space, jaw tense. He didn't look like he was going to pass out, so that was good.

  “She said to keep pressure on it,” I continued, taking another step into the room, “but I’ve also been informed to make sure you don’t fall asleep.”

  When Enzo didn't reply, Dorian rolled his eyes and elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Answer Briana.”