The look on his face sends a chill through me. He’s fucking me with his eyes. The pulsing ache between my legs says I should throw rule number three out the window. But the warning signs in my head are telling me there is danger if I go down that road. Too much fucking equals too many opportunities to mistake this for something other than a business arrangement. I can’t allow that.

“Rule number three stays, or I leave. It’s as simple as that,” I reply, crossing one leg over the other so he can’t get that close again.

He smiles as he places his hands together in front of his chest and bows his head. “Rule number three is my new religion.”

I roll my eyes as he takes a seat on the stool next to me again. “Does that make me the god of your religion since I wrote the commandments?”

He chuckles. “I’m willing to concede a certain level of control to these three rules, but you won’t reach God-level until I’m ready to worship you. I don’t think we’re there yet, sweetheart.”

I nod. “Point taken. And I appreciate your bluntness. It will make this arrangement easier.”

He shakes his head as he lifts the bottle of beer to his lips, takes a long draw, and sets it down gently before he turns to me. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

I swallow hard as I try to imagine what he could possibly want to ask me at this stage. “You can ask me anything you want, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

“Fair enough,” he replies as he twists around in the stool so he can lean back with his elbows resting on the breakfast bar. “Until just now, I thought there was a good chance you were married, but now I realize you were telling the truth when you said you haven’t been with anyone in six months.”

“Is that a question?”

“No. My question is: How many times have you been with a man who proposed marriage?”

I laugh. “How many times? That’s presumptuous. How do you know anyone’s ever proposed to me?”

He shakes his head and casts me a sideways glance. “Don’t toy with me, Kara. I know your type. You’re afraid of letting anyone in because you’re afraid anyone who gets close enough to see the real you will realize they don’t like what they see. So, how many times?”

A swell of emotion rises up inside me, stinging my eyes as I think of the three times I rejected my previous boyfriends’ marriage proposals. Am I really that transparent?

He turns to face me head-on, watching the emotional reaction in every twinge of my facial features. “You have your three rules, Kara, but I only have one.” His gray eyes are fierce as they lock on mine. “You cannot lie to me. I will always know when you’re lying. Remember that.”

I let out a deep sigh. “Time’s up,” I say, turning around to head for the door.

I half-expect him to chase after me and demand an answer to his question, but he doesn’t. He allows me to leave without further inquiry. The moment the valet brings my car and I drive away from the building, the tears spill down my cheeks.

It’s stupid. He doesn’t know me. He thinks I’m easy to read, and maybe I am, but the truth is that no one wants to marry a girl with a price tag on her head. They don’t want to move in with me and my father and deal with nightly alarms when his blood-oxygen level drops too low. They certainly don’t want to have to clean up his vomit. My life is not a fairy tale, and I won’t pretend it is by getting married and planning a life that doesn’t involve my father.

I hastily wipe the tears off my cheeks as I speed away from the Strip. And I certainly won’t allow a rich asshole like Cash Westbrook make me question my life decisions. He doesn’t know what it’s like to go to sleep wondering if you’ll wake up to find your father died while you were sleeping. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt pressing you into the dry, salty Nevada earth.

He doesn’t know me. And as far I’m concerned, he never will.

After spending a few restless hours in bed, trying not to think about Cash and his stupid theories about me, I get a very rude awakening just a few minutes past four a.m. The sound of the glass breaking rouses me instantly. The explosion of glass all over me and my bed throws me into a panic, and I do just about the worst thing I can do: I leap out of bed and race out of the bedroom.

Instinct sends me flying to the living room to check on my dad. It isn’t until I’m standing at his bedside, heart pounding with adrenaline as I check his pulse oximeter, that I realize I’m bleeding. The blood is pooling around my left foot, but I don’t feel any glass or cuts on my foot. Then comes the stinging pain from the back of my thigh. Swiping my hand across my leg, I’m horrified when it comes back covered in blood.

“Oh, God,” I whisper as I watch the viscous fluid drip off my trembling fingers.

I must have rolled over onto a piece of glass when I got out of bed. Holy shit. This is a lot of blood. I hobble back toward my bedroom as my left leg begins to fall asleep. I find my phone on the nightstand where I left it and dial 911. I manage to give the 911 operator my name and address before I begin to feel very woozy. The last thing I see before I pass out is the brick with the Polaroid picture taped to it lying on the floor next to my bed.

I wake in a hospital bed with a parched mouth and my skin enveloped in a warm, woolen sensation. But the back of my left leg is extremely sore, as if I’ve been hit in the hamstring with a baseball bat. The room looks fuzzy around the edges and begins to spin when I try to lift my head.

“Whoa,” I whisper.

“Don’t try to get up,” Suzy says, rushing to my bedside. “Oh, my God. You scared the shit out of me.”

I try to move my hands, but my fingers are so swollen I can’t make a fist. “I can’t move,” I mutter.

“You’re not supposed to move, stupid,” she says wiping away tears.

“Why are you crying?”

She shakes her head. “Did you not hear me say that you scared the fuck out of me? Jacie called me as soon as she got to the house and saw the police and the blood. She said it looked like you’d been murdered. And the fucking police and the hospital wouldn’t give me any details because we’re not family. What the fuck happened?”

I think back and remember the window and the blood… and the picture taped to the brick. I can’t tell her what happened. She’ll freak out, then she’ll try to get involved, and I can’t have that.

“I don’t know,” I reply. “I think something flew through the window. Maybe a bird or a baseball or something.”

“A baseball? At four in the morning?”

“I don’t know. I went to check on my dad, then I passed out before I could check the bedroom to see what it was.” I turn my face to look at her, to see if she’s buying any of this, but she looks a bit skeptical. “Is my dad okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. In fact, I have to call him to ask him what the hospital said about your injuries.”

“Well, I can tell you that. I had a pretty bad cut on my thigh. Probably nicked a vein or something based on the blood loss.”

She lets out a sigh. “That’s probably why you were in surgery. Shit, I thought you were shot or something.”

I force out a chuckle. “Yeah, right. Who’s gonna shoot me? The hospital for not paying my dad’s bills? I’m fine,” I assure her, though the throbbing pain in my thigh says otherwise. “Damn. I need to call Mick and tell him I can’t make it to work tonight. Can I borrow your phone?”

Mick takes the news fairly well, though I sense a bit of suspicion in his voice. If there’s anyone who would know the real reason behind the attack, it would be Mick. He knows my dad’s history. Heck, he probably even knows my dad’s bookie and how much he owes.

“I might need a few days off,” I add as I motion to Suzy to get me a glass of water. “I’m sorry, Mick.”

“Don’t worry, kid. Your job will be here when you get back. The clients like you.”

I try not to read too much into this statement as I end the call. I don’t think Mick knows about my arrangement with Cash.

Shit! Cash. What reason am I going to give him for not being able to go to his penthouse tonight? His only rule is that I can’t lie to him, but I think I can finesse my way around the truth.

“Did the doctors tell you when I’ll be released?” I ask Suzy as she hands me a waxy paper cup of water.

“They wouldn’t tell me anything,” she groans.

I try to sit up a little to drink the water, but the pain in my leg fires up, causing me to wince.

Suzy’s face contorts with anger. “That’s it. I’m getting a doctor in here now. I want answers!” Quickly changing her tone, she gently places her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

I shake my head as she storms out of the hospital room. As I manage to take a small sip of water, I notice she left her phone lying on the bed next to my thigh. I grit my teeth against the pain as I reach down to grab it, then I quickly dial Cash’s number. He picks up on the third ring.

“Cash, it’s me, Kara. I’m calling you from my friend’s phone.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about me, huh?”

I roll my eyes. “Listen closely because I don’t have much time,” I begin. “I can’t make it to your place tonight. Something came up, but I should be there in…a few days.”

“A few days? That’s a long time for me to be away from my fiancée. What’s so important you can’t make it?”

“It’s not a big deal,” I reply quickly, my eyes darting toward the doorway, watching for Suzy. “I just need a few days to myself.”

He’s silent for a moment, and my pulse races as I wonder what he’s thinking. “Kara, I told you I only have one rule,” he says, his voice hard with a hint of annoyance. “We have less than three weeks to get to know each other well enough to convince people we’re engaged. I don’t have time to deal with these kinds of delays. I’m a busy man and I made my evenings available to you, to adhere to your need for discretion. But if you expect me to continue to play by your rules, then you have to play by mine, as well. Why can’t you come tonight?”

I let out a deep sigh. “I’m in the hospital. I hurt my leg.”

“What happened?” he asks, and I think I detect a touch of worry in his voice.

“I’m fine. It’s just a minor injury.”

“Kara, minor injuries don’t require hospital stays.”

Fuck. This man is impossible to deceive. I try to think of a way out of this corner he’s backed me into, when the sound of footsteps in the corridor send me into a panic.

“I have to go. I’ll call you back.” I end the call and hastily try to place the phone back where it was on the bed next to my leg, but the sound of the phone ringing startles me and I end up dropping it on the floor just as Suzy enters the room. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. Is it broken?”

She races over to pick it up and a handsome Asian man in a white lab coat enters behind her. “The screen is cracked,” she says, standing up and forcing a smile. “It’s okay. I have insurance. They’ll replace it without question.”

“I’m sorry, Suze. I just keep fucking up.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s just a stupid phone.”

The man arrives at the other side of my bed and tilts his head as he smiles at me. “Good morning, Kara. I’m Dr. Lee. How are you feeling?”

“Is it still morning?” I reply, then I shake my head. “I’m…a little woozy, but I’m okay, I guess. When can I leave?”

He lets out a sexy chuckle. “So eager to leave us. Well, I’m afraid you’ll be here at least for the night. That was a pretty deep puncture wound, and glass is not the best kind of sharp object to be stabbed with. It’s quite messy. But the good news is that the glass missed all major arteries and veins. We were able to repair some minor damage to your hamstring muscle and subcutaneous tissue. You should be on your feet in three to four days. And you should be able to perform all your previous activities in ten to fourteen days.”

I look up at him, a desperate plea in my eyes. “I work on my feet. Can I go back to work in three days?”

He looks a bit concerned at my desperation. “Hmm… I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to spend more than a half hour at a time standing on that leg until you’re fully healed. Can you take breaks to sit down for at least ten minutes every half hour?”

I shake my head with frustration. “No, I can’t do that. I’m a blackjack dealer at a very exclusive club.”

“Maybe your boss can provide a stool for you to sit on while you’re dealing?” he offers this solution tentatively.

I stare at the perfect symmetry of his facial features for a moment and note his gentle bedside manner. “You’re a very nice man.”

He smiles. “Thank you, but I sense a qualification to that statement coming.”

“I can’t lose my job. I need you to write a very detailed note to my boss asking him to allow me to deal while sitting on a stool and all that jazz. I mean, it needs to be iron clad because I cannot get fired. Please help me.”

His brow furrows with worry, then he nods. “I can do that.”

I sigh as I lean my head back and look up at the ceiling tiles. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Not yet,” says a deep voice.

I whip my head to the left and watch as a policeman with a bushy blond mustache steps into the doorway.

“May I come in?” he asks.

I turn to Dr. Lee and his face is serious as he rounds the foot of my bed toward the officer. “She really needs her rest. Can we do this later?”

“I’ll make it quick,” the officer replies. “You can stay here if you’d like.”

Lee glances at me. “I have to check on a patient next door. I want her asleep by the time I get back.”

He nods at me before he leaves and Suzy takes a seat in a chair at my bedside.

“Uh, ma’am. Do you mind?” the officer addresses Suzy and nods toward the door as if to imply that she should leave.

“No, I’m staying,” she insists, crossing her arms and legs defiantly.

He shrugs as he approaches, taking out a notepad and a pen as he stops a couple feet from the foot of the bed. “I need to ask you what—”

“Wait!” I stop him as I turn to Suzy. “I need you to wait outside.”

“What? Why?”

I try to swallow my nerves, but my mouth is still too parched. “Please.”

She glares at me and I know it’s going to be a matter of time before I have to tell her all about Benny and his escalating threats. But until then, I need to keep her out of this. The less she knows, the safer she’ll be.

She shoots out of the chair and shakes her head. “I don’t keep secrets from you, Kara. You’d better tell me what the fuck is going on here soon because I love you, but I swear to God I’ll kick your ass if you start keeping secrets from me.”

“Ma’am, please refrain from making threats,” the officer says as Suzy storms out of the room.

I try not to smile at the ferocity of her words because I know she’d never kick my ass. She just wants the truth. Like Cash wants the truth. And I can’t give it to either of them. I’m so fucked.

The officer turns back to me. “I’m Officer Lawson. I’ve been assigned to take your statement. Do you know who threw the brick through your window this morning?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“There was a picture of you taped to the brick.” He pulls a plastic evidence bag out of his back pocket and steps forward to hand it to me. “Does this mean anything to you?”

My blood stands still in my veins as I stare at the photo. It’s a picture of me dealing blackjack at the Billionaire Club. With this photo and the brick, Benny’s trying to send a message that he knows where I work, which means he knows I’m getting paid well, and he’s getting impatient.

I hand the picture back to Lawson and shake my head again. “I don’t know. Maybe I have a stalker.”

“You don’t seem very concerned about that,” he replies as he tucks the evidence bag into his pocket.

“What do you want me to do? Break down crying?” I reply fiercely. “Whoever did this, that’s exactly the kind of reaction they want out of me, and I won’t give it to them. Are we done here?”

He cocks a bushy blond eyebrow at me. “For now. If I have any more questions, I know where to find you. Take care now.”

As he walks out of my room, the wall around my emotions begins to falter, and the tears fall freely. Suzy re-enters the room a few minutes later with a couple of Jamba Juice smoothie cups in her hands.

“Found a Jamba Juice cart near the gift shop.” She sets mine down on the nightstand. “Look, Kara, I don’t know what’s going on, but you can’t hold the weight of the world on your shoulders all by yourself. It’s okay to let people help you sometimes.”

I wipe the tears away with the bed sheet. “How’s my dad?” I ask, eager to change the subject.

Her shoulders slump as she realizes this conversation, and her quest for the truth, are going nowhere. “He’s fine. Peter’s bringing over a bag of your personal stuff that Jacie put together. Your phone too, which I’m told needed a good scrubbing due to all the blood.” She shoots me a glare. “Then you can call Jacie and talk to her yourself.”

“I’m sorry I broke your phone,” I say, though inside I’m actually kind of relieved that Cash wasn’t able to call me back.

It really is true that a single lie can turn into a tangled web of deceit in no time. As I look up at the disappointed look on Suzy’s face, all I can think is that, for her sake, I need to untangle this web before she does.

The soft click of the hospital door closing wakes me, but the room is so dark I can’t see if someone has entered or exited the room. I blink to try to focus my vision on the doorway, when the silhouette of a hooded man begins to materialize against the soft crack of light shining through the frame of the door. My heart races as he takes a step forward. I should scream, but I’m frozen with fear.

Finally, I manage to open my mouth and force out a sound. “S-s-stop,” I whisper. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll scream.”

He shushes me and the sound makes my heart thump so hard, I can hear it echoing inside my skull. He reaches behind him and I realize this is it. Even if I manage to scream, no one will get here fast enough to stop him from killing me.

“Please don’t kill me,” I whisper. “Please I swear I’ll—”

“Kara, I’m not going to kill you.”

The man’s voice sounds so familiar, but I’m still a bit groggy, I must be hearing things.

His hand comes forward and I brace myself for a gunshot. But he’s not holding a gun. It’s a phone. He presses a button and holds the glowing screen up near his face. It’s Cash.

“You asshole!” I shout.

He shushes me again as he approaches. “You need to be quiet. No one can know I’m here.”

“How the hell did you find me?” I demand, making no attempt to lower my voice.

“Kara, please,” he whispers. “You’re the one who didn’t want anyone to see us together. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have walked in here with a fucking hood over my head, using a fucking cell phone as a flashlight.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry, but you gave me no choice.” His gaze slides down all the way to my feet, then he pulls it back and his voice softens as he looks me in the eye. “You worried me. What happened to you?”

I try not to get emotional at the thought that this man I hardly know was out there worrying about me for the past few hours. “My house was attacked,” I whisper through the knot in my throat.

It’s not a lie, and it’s certainly more truthful than the explanation Suzy got. If no one knows I’m seeing Cash—am I seeing him?—then there’s no risk in being a bit more honest with him.

“Your house was attacked?” he says, his brows furrowed, though I can’t tell if he’s more worried or disappointed with my explanation. He reaches forward and my body relaxes a little when he lays his hand on my cheek. “If you don’t feel you can talk to me about this, then I’ll let it go. But I can’t let anything happen to you.” He smiles as he gently tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re my million-dollar investment.”

I shake my head as I push his hand away. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m… I’m in way over my head, and—”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, you can’t quit on me.”

“But rule number two—”

“Fuck rule number two,” he replies forcefully. “If you’re quitting because you think I’m not safe around you, then you’re wrong. And if you’re quitting because you think you’re not safe around me, then you’re also wrong. I’m getting you a bodyguard.”

“No!” I reply, not bothering to whisper. “Nuh-uh. I don’t need a bodyguard. And even if I did need one, I don’t want one. That’s not a good way to keep from drawing attention to myself.”

“I don’t care whether you want one. You’re getting one. This is not optional.” The ferocity in his eyes is startlingly sexy. “You may not be my real fiancée, but right now you are my responsibility. And you obviously need someone to look out for you. So, you’re getting a bodyguard whether you like it or not. And you’re staying with me until you’re better.”

“No!” I shout even louder this time. “That is where I draw the line. And it’s not because I don’t want to. I can’t stay with you. I… I take care of someone…at home. I need to be home.”

He narrows his eyes at me and I wonder if he’s thinking I lied about being married. “Who do you take care of? Do you have a child?”

I chuckle at his guess. “No, I don’t have any children. I…”

Shit. I can’t tell him about my dad, then he’ll definitely look into him. If there’s any chance of keeping my father’s connection to him a secret, I’ll blow it by telling him my dad is sick. I mean, I told him I hurt my leg and the jerk snuck into my damn hospital room in the middle of the night. If I tell him my dad is sick, he’s liable to show up at my house with a fucking medical team.

“I take care of my dog, and he needs me. He’s… He’s with my friend right now, but she can’t keep him there long because…because he hates her cat. Just…hates him. They don’t get along. Just ruff-ruff-meow at each other all day. It drives my friend crazy.”

He smiles at my ridiculous explanation. “I’m going to forgive that lie because I think it’s related to whatever happened at your house today, and I suppose you’re allowed one secret. But you’re still getting a bodyguard.” His gaze wanders down to my chest, lingering there for a moment as he traces his finger lightly over the inside of my forearm. His eyes lock on mine again. “And when you’re ready, he’ll bring you to me for our next session. How long until you’re on your feet again?”

“Three days,” I reply quickly as I try to ignore the throbbing between my legs. “I’ll be back in three days, tops.”

He smiles at my eagerness as his fingertips land on the inside of my bicep, the backs of his fingers grazing my breast. “We have a lot to work on,” he murmurs as he gently presses his knuckles into my soft flesh.

I’m not wearing a bra, so the gentle pressure is more than enough to make my heart race. “I’ll be ready,” I whisper.

He eases his hand forward and stealthily slips it underneath the covers.

“Rule number three,” I breathe, my voice barely audible as his hand moves down to my belly.

“Rule number three says we can’t have sex,” he replies. “It says nothing about me watching you come.”

My chest heaves with anticipation as he slowly pulls my gown up until his hand is resting on my bare mound. “We can’t do this here.”

“Why?” His finger glides between my aching folds and easily finds my clit. “The door is closed,” he whispers as he slides into me all the way to his knuckle, curling his finger inside me. “And I think this is exactly what you need right now.” His thumb massages my tender clit as his middle finger firmly rouses my G-spot. “That’s it, sweetheart. Look at me.”

My legs twitch, sending a shooting pain slicing through the back of my thigh. “Oh, God. Please stop. It hurts.”

His hand stops moving, but he doesn’t remove it from inside me. “I’ll go slow,” he says as he slides his finger out of me and drags my moisture up to my clit.

His finger moves lightly over my hard nub. I close my eyes and lean my head back, but soon his free hand is under my neck and his face is inches from mine.

“Don’t turn away from me.” His voice is a low growl, deep and commanding, but his touch is still gentle as he coaxes me toward an orgasm. “You always look at me when you come. You understand?” His gaze doesn’t soften when I nod in reply. “I told you, in the bedroom I make the rules. When you’re with me, you submit. You have to understand that if you’re going to convince the board you’re my fiancée. Do you understand?” This time he smiles when I nod. “Good girl. Don’t come yet.”

“What?” I whisper, tightening the muscles in my abdomen to keep my legs from twitching and to stop the orgasm.

He slides his fingertip off my clit and begins lightly massaging my labia. “You come when I say you come.” His middle finger slides back inside me, lightly pressing on my G-spot until I start to whimper, then he pulls it out again. “When you’re out there living your life, you’re Kara. When you’re with me, you’re my fiancée. You’re mine. And I will do with you as I please. Understood?”

“Oh, God,” I breathe as he glides to two fingers through my swollen folds, lightly brushing my clit but never giving me full contact. “Yes, yes. I understand,” I reply desperately.

“Good,” he replies, easing his grip on the back of my neck as his other hand returns to my clit to finish me off. “Come for me.”

The orgasm builds slowly, a soft rumble escalating to a thunderous roar of pleasure exploding in my core and oozing outward into my muscles, making me warm and relaxed. I gush wetness all over his hand, but he doesn’t mind. He keeps his hand between my legs, his finger pressed lightly against my throbbing clit, as he cups my mound and waits for the orgasm to roll through me. The whole time, his gaze is locked on me, watching every nuance in my expression, relishing every twinge of pleasure.

“Do you feel better now?” he murmurs, and I nod. “Then I’ll see you in three days. I’ll send your bodyguard here to pick you up in the morning. He’ll take you home.” He slowly slides his hand out from beneath the covers and kisses my forehead before he stands up straight. “I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

I nod with some difficulty as I suddenly feel very sleepy. “Okay,” I whisper.

He smiles as he backs away from my bedside. “Sweet dreams.”

Three days of lying in my bed with the new sheets that Suzy insisted on buying for me—to rid my bedroom of all reminders of the attack—and I am so ready to get out of the house to see Cash. He’s been texting me multiple times a day to check on me, and I must admit his messages have really kept my spirits up.

Like the time he texted me telling me how much I was missed, then he sent me a series of pictures of himself and Hector having a “date night.” The first picture showed Hector blushing as Cash pinned a corsage to his lapel. The second picture showed them holding hands in a movie theater that looked suspiciously like the media room in his penthouse. My favorite was the last picture of the evening, showing them lying in Cash’s bed with the sheet just barely covering their private parts while Cash smoked a cigarette.

Of course, Dex wasn’t in any of the pictures because Dex is my new bodyguard. Cash didn’t have time to interview anyone before I was released from the hospital three days ago, so he sent Dex to protect me. He claims he’ll be fine with just one bodyguard for the next few weeks, especially now that he’s almost a married man. All joking aside, I’m worried that he may be putting himself at risk for me.

I guess I should feel honored that he would do such a thing, but the truth is that I’m scared. If Benny finds out I’m involved with Cash, the same way he found out I’m working at the Billionaire Club, I highly doubt a single bodyguard will do much to stop him.

In the meantime, I’ve had Dex posted outside my house for the past three days because I can’t let him inside the house. He can’t know about my dad. He’s seen Jacie coming and going from the house, but he thinks she’s actually here for me. At least, that’s what I told him. I hope he believes me.

It’s almost ten p.m. and I’m supposed to go to Cash’s penthouse at midnight, but I haven’t heard from him since ten a.m. This is unusual considering he’s been texting me every two to three hours over the past few days. I’m trying not to imagine that something happened to him, but it’s hard not to worry.

Despite what the tabloids say about him, Cash is a good person. At least, I hope he is. I really don’t want to fall for him and end up with a broken heart. I don’t know if I could take anymore tragedy at this point in my life.

I’ve been getting up to shower and use the restroom at least three times a day, with a little help from Jacie. When I stand up all by myself to start getting ready to go to Cash’s, I’m surprised when the pain is not excruciating. If I grit my teeth, I’m able to walk to the bathroom with only a slight limp. But the moment I get there, I immediately lower the lid on the toilet so I can sit down.

I text Dex to tell him I’ll be coming out in a couple of hours, then I set about curling my hair and applying my makeup. When I come out to the living room to leave, both Jacie and my dad are fast asleep, Saturday Night Live playing on the TV with the sound muted. The moment I open the front door, Dex is standing right outside.

I fall over myself trying to get out of the house quickly so he can’t see my dad’s hospital bed in the living room. He catches me around the waist with one of his thick arms, so I don’t fall into the potted cactus on the front doorstep, and I yelp with surprise. I reach for the doorknob to pull it closed, but it’s too late. Dex’s dark eyes are locked on the hospital bed in the dimly lit living room.

I hastily push his arm off and pull the door softly shut. “Thank you,” I mutter, my gaze focused on the concrete pathway as I limp away from him toward the street, where his Mercedes is parked at the curb.

He hesitates for a moment before he catches up with me. “Let me help you,” he says, offering the crook of his elbow for me to grab onto.

Ignoring the searing pain in my hamstring, I continue down the driveway toward the curb without his help. He quickly opens the back door for me to get in, but I respond by opening the front passenger-side door for myself.

“I’d rather sit in the front, thanks,” I say, gingerly sliding into the front seat and looking away as he closes the door for me. Once we’re at least a half a mile away from my house, riding in silence down Flamingo Road, I take a deep breath and turn to him. “What you saw in there, Dex, that was—”

“You don’t have to explain to me.”

“But I want to explain it to you. It’s… My dad is very sick. So, yeah, I saw this bet as an opportunity to help him get better. But please don’t tell Cash.”

He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head. “You know I can’t keep something like that from him. Even if I tried, he’d get it out of me.” He flashes me a hard look as he comes to a stop at a red light. “And you can’t keep something like that from him either. Ain’t this whole thing so you two can get to know each other? You can’t know somebody if you’re keeping secrets from them.”

I turn away from him, too ashamed to admit he’s right. If I don’t tell Cash the truth, we’ll never get to know each other. And maybe we’ll still be able to fool the board of directors of Westbrook Oil, but maybe we won’t. And then what? I have to go back to working at Smith’s Gambling Hall for $50 in tips per night, if I’m lucky.

I have to tell him the truth.

“I’ll tell him,” I say, my gaze still focused out the window at the dazzling lights as we approach the Strip. “Thank you…for watching over us these past few days.”

Dex is silent for a while, but when I turn to him he’s smiling. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. He’s always been the serious one while Hector seems to be the one with the sense of humor.

When he turns onto Las Vegas Blvd., it dawns on me that if someone sees me with Dex, they might deduce that I’m going up to see Cash.

“We can’t valet the car,” I say. “Can’t you take me in through the parking garage or something?”

He smiles again. “Don’t worry. I’ll drop you off by the elevator in the parking garage, then I’ll park the car. You can go up without me, so we’re not seen together.”

“But what if someone sees you drop me off?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “At 12:21 in the morning? I highly doubt it. And if there’s anyone hanging out near the elevators, we’ll drive around till the coast is clear. I got this, okay?”

I nod as I check my phone for messages, but Cash still hasn’t texted me or called me. I know we agreed on this meeting days ago, and he’s mentioned it in passing multiple times, so I don’t think he’s forgotten. He’s probably just busy, trying to get other stuff done before I arrive.

The moment Dex turns into the entrance of the parking structure, another car is coming out and I quickly duck.

He chuckles as he continues driving. “Relax. They’re gone.”

I sit up straight and sling the strap of my purse diagonally across my chest, ready to make a break for the elevator as soon as he stops. Well, I can’t really “make a break” for it. More like limp carefully toward the elevator.

He stops the Mercedes right next to the silver doors. “See you inside,” he says, his smile gone. He’s all business now.

I open the door and immediately I’m blasted with a gust of hot, suffocating Vegas air. But the heat makes my muscles relax a bit, which I’m thankful for as I make my way toward the elevator. As soon as I press the call button, the elevator opens and a man with silver hair and a crisp navy-blue Oxford and khaki’s cocks an eyebrow at me as he exits.

“Do I know you?” he says in a deep, clear voice.

The man is handsome for an older gentleman, and I remember exactly where I’ve seen him: at the Billionaire Club four nights ago.

I shake my head as I enter the elevator. “Don’t think so,” I say, trying to keep my head down as I press my thumb to the fingerprint reader then hit the button for the penthouse level.

I pretend to fix my hair so I can hide my face as the doors close. When the elevator cab begins to rise, I sigh and raise my head, glancing over my shoulder at my reflection in the mirrored wall behind me. I look anxious.

Taking a few deep breaths, I thank God that no one else gets on the elevator on the way up. The doors open onto the penthouse level, but when I get to the fingerprint scanner at Cash’s door, it doesn’t open for me. But it just worked in the elevator. That doesn’t make sense.

I reach into my bag to get my cell phone, but the front door opens before I have the chance to dial. Cash steps out into the vestibule, closing the door behind him. The serious look on his face makes my stomach weak.

“What’s going on?” I ask, though I have a feeling I already know. Either Dex called him and told him about my father, or he found out through the background check.

“Your father is Kurt Langley.” He says this as a statement, not a question. “The same Kurt Langley whose team took The Mirage for $1.2 million dollars.” He takes a step toward me, his eyes trained on me as if I’m prey, but I don’t avert my gaze. “The same Kurt Langley who was fired from Union Oil eighteen months ago.”

“He wasn’t fired!” I correct him, my face flushing with heat. “He was laid off! They changed his employee record after they found out he was sick.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re not even going to try and deny it?”

I glare right back at him. “Why should I? My dad is the one who was screwed over by your company. He did nothing wrong.”

“Right. It’s just the big, mean corporate baddies who are always wrong, right? That’s why you here, isn’t it? You found out I was the one who ordered the layoffs and now you’re here to get your revenge? Well, it looks like your little plan failed.”

“You, what?” I reply, my heart racing as the reality of his words hits me. “It was… It was you? You’re the one who laid him off? You’re the one who ruined our lives?”

He looks confused for a moment, then his expression hardens again. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know. That’s why you were here all along. You’re just like all the rest of them, trying to get close enough to get what you want. But you never wanted the money, did you? No, you wanted to make sure I got forced out of my job just like your dad.”

“Fuck you!” I shout. “I’m not one of those hundreds of girls you’ve fucked, and you’d better believe I wanted that money. I need that money to pay the hospital bills I’m drowning in ever since you let my dad go. But you don’t give a shit about that, do you?” I step forward so my face is inches from his. “Because you’re too fucking paranoid that someone’s going to burst your rich-boy bubble.”

He laughs in my face and I shove him hard in the chest, then I turn on my heel and begin to walk away. But I put too much pressure on my leg and almost fall. I manage to jut my arm out and lean my weight against the wall as I lift my bad leg up to ease the pressure. Probably out of instinct, he reaches out to help me, but I bat his hands away.

“Don’t touch me! I don’t need your help.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the woman who’s been pretending to help me for the past few days.”

I hobble to the elevator and press the call button, but he’s still right behind me. “At least I don’t get off on ruining people’s lives.”

He laughs. “Oh, yes. You know me so well. I just love sitting in my hot tub, sipping champagne while planning how I’m going to destroy the lives of poor, unsuspecting people.”

“I’ll bet you do, fuckface.” The doors open and I stumble a little when I hop inside, and once again he tries to catch me. “I said don’t touch me, assclown!”

“Assclown?” He chuckles as I violently punch the button for the lobby level.

I flip him off as the doors begin to close and something about the puzzled look on his face makes my stomach clench. I lean back against the mirrored wall to ease the pressure off my leg as I try not to cry.

I can’t believe the nerve of that guy. He’s the one who tossed my dad out like a sack of garbage, basically ruining my life, and he’s the one who’s angry?

Fuck him.

I’ll be back at work tomorrow and I’ll make a ton of tips now that I don’t have to worry about helping Cash Westbrook. I’ll work as long as I can. I’ll flirt as much as I want. I’ll do whatever it takes to pay off this debt without ingratiating myself to a screwed-up rich boy.

The elevator doors open and I’m not surprised to see Dex waiting for me in the lobby. I grit my teeth against the pain as I try my hardest to hide my limp while walking past him.

“Did he send you here to make sure I don’t steal any extra mints from the concierge desk?” I remark as he follows me toward the glass front doors.

“He didn’t tell me nothing. I’m just here to take you home.”

I look at him like he’s crazy, but his face is dead serious as he reaches for the glass door and holds it open for me to exit. “Why? You don’t work for me. You work for him.”

“Actually, I employed by Knox Security. I don’t work for Cash.” He waits patiently for me to step outside, then he offers his elbow for me to hold onto. “So, until my boss tells me I’m reassigned to Cash, you’re stuck with me.”

I let out a congested chuckle as tears begin to fall. “Thank you, Dex.”

He pulls a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and hands it to me. “He’ll figure out the truth soon enough,” he says with a nod. “And if he doesn’t, he ain’t worth it.”

I flash him a tight smile, but all I can think is, what if Cash is right? What if, subconsciously, I was trying to sabotage him to get revenge for what happened to my father? That doesn’t make what he did any less horrible. And it doesn’t change the fact that I still have a price on my head.

Maybe I can find another rich guy at the Billionaire Club who’ll pay off my dad’s debts. I sigh at this thought as Dex helps me into the front seat of the Mercedes. I can’t be with someone for money. That’s not how I operate.

But the arrangement with Cash was for money.

But that was different, I tell myself. It didn’t start out that way. It started out as blistering hot sex, then it turned into an agreement between adults. That’s all.

Except when he showed up in my hospital room pretending to care about me. I can’t believe I fell for that.

Cash’s words echo in my mind: I know your type. You’re afraid of letting anyone in because you’re afraid anyone who gets close enough to see the real you will realize they don’t like what they see.

No, Cash, you’re wrong.

I’m not afraid of letting people in because of what they’ll see. I’m afraid of getting too close to anyone because everyone I’ve ever loved has left me in the exact position I’m in now. Alone.