Prologue
Jackson Castillo sighed and threw a stack of sales charts on his desk. Turning so his view aimed out over the pink and orange Las Vegas dawn skyline, he sipped his espresso. He enjoyed the few quiet hours he actually had—before the many duties as manager of one of the most exclusive resorts in the world could pin him down.
Worry furrowed his brow. Not with concern about sales figures. In these days of bankrupt and multi-owner group takeovers for long-famous casino resorts, the Castillo chain operated in the black and had no sign of doing otherwise. His concern lay with his cousin, Ramon, who languished in one of the larger suites a few floors below the penthouse office. Although he’d agreed that the final stages of physical rehab could occur there, under his watchful eye, Jackson’s plans for him had been thwarted at every turn by intransigence. He wanted more than anything to be able to take some of the wounded hurt out of his adopted cousin’s eyes, if the stubborn man would simply allow it. He sighed. As if conjured by his thoughts, Madame Evangeline’s name appeared in a text message.
Bonjour, my dear.
Good morning, Madame.
Any luck with our little project?
No. He turned us down yet again yesterday. Although his doctor tells me he’s nearly ninety percent restored to normal, he still limps, claims the pain keeps him from being interested in our offer.
Well, he is your relative. But my unsolicited advice is to keep trying. He needs this. Poor boy.
He is no boy, Madame. Jackson ran a hand down his face. He’s a grown man, used to the spotlight and now that it’s off, he has no idea how to act. But it is not keeping him from gambling too much, in my pit boss’s expert opinion.
Have some sympathy, my dear. Let’s try once more, before it’s too late. He’s leaving us Monday, is he not?
Jackson leaned back in his chair, pondering the dilemma. A simple date, a lovely woman to take his cousin’s mind off his current situation, that’s all Madame proposed. Ironic really, given the kid’s reputation with females in his heyday as an internationally famous soccer star. But Jackson knew his cousin’s heart. He gave too much of it, while all those women wanted was a piece of his fine ass and the spotlight that followed him.
Flipping open his laptop, he mulled over Eve’s insistence that one of her encounters would solve all his wounded friend’s problems. Her enchantments often found a home at the Castillo hotel and resort, where she arranged exclusive and sometimes positively magical dates between people who contracted for her services. Only known in highly select circles, the 1Night Stand service went a long way toward Jackson’s healthy bottom line. He resisted the urge to force the man he’d known nearly his whole life to take her up on it. It maddened him, the way Ramon resisted their help.
A message popped into his inbox from Gillian, a good friend who managed banquet services at the MGM. Jackson knew she’d finished her night shift at the resort’s massive wedding chapel. The nature of the town demanded twenty-four hour services and the “Vegas Wedding” options were no exception. As a manager of one of the largest banquet operations on the Strip, she wouldn’t normally have to take a shift personally, but he knew why she did. When sleep is haunted by horrible nightmares of loss, one might as well work instead of staring at the ceiling.
She had a question about tickets for the pro soccer showcase coming up next month. Could he get a ticket to the sold-out event for her son? The nine-year-old boy played the game year round and had become a complete fanatic. Jackson smiled at the thought of the boy’s bright red hair and freckled face as he watched his heroes in action. All of them of course, except his favorite…the one whose replica jersey his mother could hardly keep clean, he wore it so much. Number seventeen from the US National Team.
“Holy shit!” Jackson yelled into the empty room and nearly fell backward off his chair.
His assistant opened the large door between them, concern in her eyes. He stalked around his desk, pumping his fist like a maniac, typing a text message into his phone with the other hand.
Madame—I have it! I officially have it. Christ! Why I didn’t see this before…. I need your approval to be the instigator this time. I think I can pull it off!
He didn’t have to explain any further. Eve would instantly know his mind and heart, and would approve. She’d put the wheels of fate in motion and he would place the players. The rest was up to them. But if he knew Ramon and his good friend like he thought he did, it would be, as they say, a no brainer.
A quick call to the sports massage specialist at the MGM and the wheels were officially in motion. He had his assistant buzz his cousin’s suite, to inform him of the therapy venue change for the day. Then, one last detail, as he had to keep the woman in place for another hour. Another call, and her assistant had arranged a banquet staffing screw up that she would have to handle before heading home.
Jackson leaned back, a satisfied smile on his face. How in the name of heaven hadn’t he thought of this before? He hoped it wasn’t too late. One last text to Eve and the scene would be set.
Bon chance, mon ami. This is a perfect arrangement. I am so happy I can be of assistance. Let us hope your players cooperate. I will be watching.
“One more espresso,” Jackson called into the hall. He glanced at his watch. Six AM. One more hour to savor his plan before watching it unfold. He grinned out into the Vegas skyline once again, hands in his suit pockets, skin prickling in anticipation of the day ahead.