According to Dex, Kara had been planning to tell me the truth about her father’s identity that night. He claims they discussed it in the car on the way to my penthouse, but I don’t know what to believe.

I don’t think Dex would lie to me. If he somehow grew attached to Kara over the past few days guarding her, then he would definitely try to cover for her. But are a few days spent with Kara enough to override his loyalty to me? Dex has been with me for years.

Leaning back in the chair in my home office, I stare at the chaotic Ted Gahl painting on the wall as I consider calling Erin, my account representative at Knox Security. I should probably tell her I need Dex reassigned to me instead of Kara, but I can’t bring myself to make the call. If someone is after Kara—or her father—that won’t change just because we had a fight. And I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her.

Fuck. I can’t fall for someone like Kara Langley. Her father probably taught her how to hustle her way in and out of any situation. She probably manipulated Dex into doing her bidding. I can’t trust her anymore than all the other girls who’ve tried to get close to me just so they could sell their stories.

Actually, Kara’s even less trustworthy than all those other girls, because she’s the daughter of a professional hustler. Then, why do I so desperately want to believe that she was going to confess to me last night?

I shake my head as I slip my cell phone out of my pocket and dial Kara’s number. After four rings, her voicemail comes on, causing my heart to race at the sound of her voice: This is Kara. I can’t answer the phone right now, but if you leave a message I’ll get back to you as soon as I can… Unless you’re the guy who ruined my life, then please hang up and never call me again!

My first instinct after that kind of greeting is to end the call right there, but I decide to man-up and leave a message.

“Kara, I’m going to pretend that greeting wasn’t meant for me… Look, I know you were planning on telling me about your father last night. We need to talk. Call me back.”

An hour later, I’m in my kitchen, fixing myself a protein shake before I head to the gym, when I get the urge to call her again. Instead, I call my best buddy, Dean. He answers on the second ring.

“Where the fuck have you been?” are the first words out of his mouth. “We thought maybe your dad had chained you up in the basement or something.”

“Trying to keep my nose clean,” I reply, pouring my shake into a plastic to-go cup. “My dad says I’m on the fast-track to unemployment unless I can convince the board to keep me on at the corporate retreat in two weeks.”

He laughs. “That’s bullshit. You’re Cash Westbrook. It’s your fucking duty to bring bad press to the company. All publicity is good publicity, and all that.”

I cringe at his implication that Cash Westbrook is some sort of character, a role I’m supposed to play to attract attention to a brand. If this is what my best friend since college thinks of me, is this what everyone thinks of me? Is this how Kara sees me? The company mascot who gets drunk and sticks his dick in a different girl every night, all for the entertainment of the spectators?

“Fuck that,” I reply aloud, my fist tightening around the plastic bottle in my hand.

“Ah, come on, man. You know who you are. Who gives a shit what anyone thinks of you? And who wouldn’t want to be known as the guy who gets as much pussy as you do. So, are you coming out to XS tonight? Heard Leo’s little sister is gonna be there. She’s nineteen now, so she’s fair game. You down for a hate-fuck? That should piss off that cock-smoker.”

My mouth goes dry as I realize Dean is right. I’m the guy most men aspire to be: exceptionally good looking, obscenely wealthy, and drowning in pussy. Why would I change that just to keep a job I don’t need? I can convince another investor to work with me and Kevin Massey of Collectric. Yes, $3.1 billion is a lot of money to raise, but Westbrook Oil wouldn’t be where it is today without my good and bad publicity.

It’s probably a bad idea to go to a nightclub with the intent of hate-fucking a girl just to piss off her brother. But after the shit Leo Osborne pulled the other day at the Billionaire Club, that motherfucker has it coming. He needs to be put in his place. Plus, I doubt there’s anything that can make me forget Kara right now better than a tight pussy wrapped around my cock.

“I’ll meet you there at eleven,” I say, then I hang up without giving Dean a chance to respond.

The music in the club is so loud, it thumps inside my chest like a second heartbeat, I can hardly think much less ask where to find Misty Osborne. I pass at least a dozen supermodel lookalikes who eye-fuck the shit out of me, but I’m on a mission tonight. I don’t want to fuck just any girl. I need more of a challenge tonight. I need to fuck the one girl who’ll get me the most satisfaction. Screwing Misty Osborne will be a big fuck-you to my dad, Leo Osborne, and Kara Langley.

“You need a drink!” Dean shouts at me, nodding to the walkway on our right, which leads up to the main bar area.

I shake my head. “Not drinking tonight. I need a clear head.”

I don’t say it aloud, but I want to make sure I feel everything tonight. I want to burn the fiery memory of this experience into my mind, so I can call upon that memory any time I get the urge to give up sex for a woman I hardly know. So, when I go back to work tomorrow, and I’m sitting at a table in an overpriced restaurant on a lush green golf course, listening to my coworkers drone on about maximizing profits, my mind can wander to the feeling of my cock prodding the back of Misty’s throat, and Leo’s face when he finds out I fucked his sister, and Kara’s face… I can’t think about Kara’s face. I can’t think about her, period.

Maybe I should get drunk.

Five vodka tonics and one hour later, I find Misty on the dance floor, writhing against a Jersey Shore wannabe with a fake tan and hoop earrings. How the fuck do guys like that get anyone to take them seriously?

Between us is a swarm of bodies packed tightly together, moving to the hard hitting dub-step music of Skrillex and Diplo. I make eye contact with a few fuckable girls as I make my way through the crowd, flashing them a brief blazing glance. The way their eyes focus on me as I brush past them, completely ignoring their inferior dance partners, I can practically hear them creaming their panties.

I reach Misty and she immediately stops dancing when she sees me. She reaches up to lift her dark hair off her neck to fan herself. My eyes are locked on her as I reach up and curl my fist around her hair, tugging gently to lean her head back. The lights are flashing, the music thumping, my pulse quickening, and somewhere in the background I can faintly hear the walking spray-tan advertisement protesting as I pull her head sideways, exposing her neck. Her mouth falls open in a soft sigh of ecstasy as I lean over and brush my lips over her heated skin.

There’s a scuffle off to the right, probably Dean disposing with her dance partner. I kiss her neck, savoring the faint taste of salt on her flesh. Her hand lands on the bulge in my slacks, massaging my cock until I’m painfully erect. Loosening my grip on her hair, I move my hand to the top of her head and push her down slowly until she’s on her knees in front of me.

I ignore the shocked looks around us, and the voice in my head telling me this is going to be on the front page of TMZ in a few hours. Nothing wrong with showing off your cock once in a while when you’re as well-endowed as I am.

Her blue eyes are locked on mine as she unzips me, but I quickly push her away as cameras start flashing. Suddenly, there’s more commotion behind me and off to the right. Someone grabs my arm and yanks me backward. It’s Dean. He’s yelling something at me, but I can’t hear him. As soon as he glances over his shoulder, I realize what he’s saying. Leo Osborne is making his way toward us through the crowd.

I swiftly zip up before Osborne tries to take his first swipe at me. His fist barely misses my cheekbone, giving me enough time to land a hard upper-cut to his abdomen. It takes four security guards to break us up and haul us off the dance floor to the security room.

Luckily, since Osborne was the first to take a swipe at me this time, he can’t press charges. And the casino decides not to press charges against me, probably because they know tonight’s stunt will only serve to draw more attention to the club.

All publicity is good publicity.

As Dean and I walk through the casino toward the exit, Dean starts laughing uncontrollably. “I can’t fucking believe you almost got a beej from Misty Osborne in the middle of XS. Can I be you when I grow up? Seriously, did you see the look on Osborne’s face? That was fucking epic!”

I chuckle half-heartedly as I realize how after all that, I still can’t stop thinking about Kara. I check my phone for missed calls or texts, but there’s nothing.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Dean hands his check to the valet and we step aside to wait for them to bring his car. “You want to hit up Tao. I think Calvin Harris is there tonight. Maybe you can get his girlfriend to finish you off.”

I laugh along with him, though I don’t find the joke one bit funny. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna catch a cab home. I’ll catch up with you at work,” I say, flagging down the next cab that passes us. “Later, man.”

I slide into the backseat and tell the driver to head east on Flamingo. “I’ll get you the address in a minute.”

I open up my email app and search for the message I received from the private investigator I hired to look into Kara. The background check attached to the email has her home address on it. I enter the address into Google Maps and spout off the directions to the cab driver.

Twelve minutes later, he pulls up into a tract of rundown stucco houses with clay tile roofs, all basically the same model in different colors. But most of them look as if they haven’t been repainted in twenty years. Only one or two houses on each block have grass growing in the lawn. The rest have the typical water-saving wood chips or gravel you commonly see in Vegas.

The driver pulls up in front of a small peach-colored house, where Kara’s SUV and Dex’s Mercedes are parked in the driveway.

“Keep the meter running,” I tell the cab driver. “This shouldn’t take long.”

I text Dex as I exit the cab. I need to give him a heads up before I knock on the door, so he doesn’t think I’m someone else who’s here to attack Kara. Then, I text her.

The door swings inward and the sight of her furious face makes me happier than I’ve felt in ages. “Are you crazy?” she whispers angrily. “What are you doing here? We’re not supposed to be seen together!”

I pause a moment to take in the way she looks: her messy ponytail, her tank top and pajama bottoms as thin and worn-through as the layer of cracking stucco on her house. She’s as worn down as a girl her age can be, yet she’s stunning. Absolutely fucking beautiful.

“Kara, it’s 1:30 in the morning. There’s nobody out here.”

“You don’t know that.” She looks up and down the street nervously. “What do you want?”

“I want to apologize for—”

She shushes me as a pair of headlights approaches at the far end of the street. “Hurry. Get inside, but you have to be quiet. My dad’s asleep.”

She leads me through the door and closes it softly behind me. The room is dark with a dim golden glow shining through the front window from the streetlamp outside. Even with the faint lighting, I can see the sleeping man lying in the hospital bed in the middle of the living area is hardly a man at all. He’s a wisp of a human, the thin blue blanket crumpled around his slight frame.

Is this my fault? Did I do that to him?

“Hey, boss.”

I startle slightly at the deep whisper of Dex’s voice, but I can see his smile through the murky darkness. “Hey, man,” I whisper barely loud enough for myself to hear.

“Come with me,” Dex replies, nodding toward a hallway on my right.

It isn’t until then that I notice Kara is gone. She must have left the room while I was busy gawking at her father. I follow Dex into the dark corridor and into a bedroom, where Kara is sitting on the edge of a bed covered in crisp white linens.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says, as Dex closes the door on his way out.

I step forward and take a seat at the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry I hurt you. And I’m even more sorry I didn’t trust you. I’ve just… I’ve been burned so many times, and not just by women. I’ve sabotaged myself more times than I can count. I can’t trust my own judgment. But that’s not your fault.”

She sighs and hangs her head as she stares at her hands in her lap. “I should have told you about my dad, but the truth is… I did sleep with you that first night to try to fix the situation with my dad’s medical bills.” She looks up and there’s a fierce look in her eyes. “But that’s not why I agreed to the bet.”

“Why did you?”

She looks down at her hands again. “I can’t talk about it.”

I scoot closer to her, but she doesn’t look up at me. “Kara, I want you to know that I fought extremely hard against those layoffs. And when I go back to work on Monday, I’m going to get everything fixed with your dad. I’ll make the company fix his employee record so it shows he was laid off. And I’ll have them reinstate his health care benefits. Fuck, I’ll pay his medical bills myself if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

She swipes her hand across her cheek to wipe away a tear. “Thank you, but I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me for anything,” I say, reaching up to brush a tear off her chin. “You’re the first person in a long time who hasn’t asked me for something.”

Our eyes lock for brief a moment, then she turns away. “You should probably go.”

I nod as I stand from the bed, but I stop and turn around when I reach the door. “I know this is a long-shot, but I have to ask. Will you be coming by after your shift?”

She looks at me for a while as she ponders this, then, to my surprise, she nods. “I’ll be there.”

I smile and let out a sigh of relief. “Good-night, Kara.”

As I tread lightly through the dark corridor, I can’t help but wonder why she’s still going through with the bet if I just agreed to pay off her father’s medical bills. I fully expected her to back out of the bet now that she got what she wanted. Is it crazy to believe she’s doing this for more than money?

I shake off the thought as I exit the front door. I can’t allow myself to think that way. Kara doesn’t want to be in a serious committed relationship any more than I do. And I definitely don’t want to be in a committed relationship.

Do I?

No, I definitely don’t.

I shake my head at these crazy thoughts as I cross the street toward the cab, which is still running with its lights on. As I reach for the door handle, I notice a guy sitting in a car parked along the curb five houses away. The moment our eyes lock, he turns on his car and makes a U-turn out of the street. I try to get the license plate, but I’m only able to see the first four digits before he turns the corner: 7921.

Must be a reporter, I assure myself. Then I remember the attack on Kara’s house a few days ago and the fact that she can’t tell me why she agreed to the bet. Is it possible someone else is after Kara for money?

I don’t know the answer to that question, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.