I’m grumpy as fuck as I call room service. Why there’s no coffee maker in an $1800-a-night suite is beyond me, but I suppose they just wanted me to pay twenty bucks to have a carafe brought to my room instead.

I’ve never been much of a morning person, and absolutely refuse to do anything before I have a steaming cup of the gods’ own nectar in front of me. I’m in worse shape than normal after staying up late last night at Nero’s Harem, the strip club. Hey, it wasn’t my idea. Miles brought it up as a joke, but Grace was the one who pressed us to go. She’d never been to a strip club and wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

Everyone had a good time, and now Grace knows that strip clubs are just kind of stupid. We strong-armed her into getting a lap dance from a hot stripper with huge tits, and Grace even had me give the girl a big tip for permission to take a picture of the two of them to send her husband. If I ever get married, I want to have that level of trust in my spouse.

As I wait impatiently for my coffee, I think again about my cocktail waitress from the night before.

Tempest is now my goal.

In fact, she’s my obsession. Not in a stalker way, but in a good way. I’m made my reputation on focusing all my energy on a target and not giving up until it’s mine. Everyone said I was crazy when I acquired HomeFlix, the movie streaming company, for $90 million. But I brought in top-notch talent to run it, and when I sold it to Google for $750 million two years later, nobody was questioning my sanity.

It’s all about risk versus reward. You have to look at a situation, identify the variables at play, then decide whether the possible reward is worth the risk you run if it doesn’t pan out. With HomeFlix, I knew my biggest risk was that it might not grow like I thought it could, but even so, I’d still be able to sell it for half what I paid. So the risk was maybe fifty million versus a possible reward of half a billion dollars. I’d take that bet any day.

Regarding Tempest, it’s not about money, although I really hate losing bets to my friends. I hate losing anything, period. I’m as competitive as they come. No, the goal here is Tempest herself. As I was trying to sleep last night, I kept imagining looking down at her naked body on the bed in my suite. I saw a network of intricate tattoos all up and down. Her medium-size breasts were firm, and her sexy flat belly was almost enough to distract me from the bare little pussy below.

When I imagined lowering myself on top of her and sliding my rock-hard cock into her, the thought made me almost unbearably horny. To be honest, that little fantasy got me much harder than the half-dozen lap dances I’d gotten at Nero’s Harem. It was all I could do to keep from rubbing one out, but I refrained because staying in a state of perpetual excitement gives me an edge. And the truth is, If I refuse to come until I’m fucking this chick, it makes obtaining my goal that much more critical.

After the coffee arrives and I’ve had a cup, I stand at the window and look out over the legendary Vegas Strip. At night, this view is amazing, but during the day it just looks like a lot of cement in the middle of a desert.

My first move with Tempest will be to get her to go out with me. Since she’s a cocktail waitress, an offer of an extravagantly expensive dinner might do the trick. Then a brilliant idea strikes me: I’ll let her decide where we go. No restrictions whatsoever; we do whatever she wants.

Tempest was working the day shift yesterday, which I guessed would be eight-to-four or so. I decide to head down to the Little Black Dress in mid-morning, when it should be relatively empty. I clean up a bit, deciding not to shave so I’ll look a little disheveled. Make it seem like I’m not trying to very hard to impress her.

I see her the moment I walk through the doors. I’m not sure which twitches harder, my brain or my cock. The challenge this woman represents excites me as much as the idea of eventually sinking my hard-on into her. I take a seat in the same area where I was yesterday, hoping this is her section. The only other cocktail waitress I see is a curvy redhead with big tits, so my odds look pretty good.

I open my laptop on the table and fire it up. I’ll have a better shot at success if I hang out a little and get to know her before asking her out. I’ll lay on the charm first. Also, it makes it look like I’m here to chill and get some work done, rather than my real reason: to find a way to get in her pants.

Tempest gets almost to my table before she recognizes me. The little frown I see says I have my work cut out for me.

“Good morning, Mr. Ramsey.” She looks at my laptop. “Counting your money?”

“Nah. Trying to write a speech, but I need some inspiration. How about some more of that Ardnave scotch?”

“Sure thing.”

“And it’s Maddox.”

When she smiles, I notice the little beauty mark just above the left side of her mouth. Sexy. As. Fuck.

I watch that cute little ass as she walks to the bar. Goddamn, these little black dresses are worth whatever they want to charge for drinks at this place. Tempest’s dress today is even shorter than yesterday’s, and I still can’t see where those tattoos end; they just seem to disappear where her thighs meet the hem of the dress.

When she returns with my drink, I say thanks without even looking up from my computer. Make them think you’re not interested and you become a challenge to them. I learned that one while I was still in high school. I laugh when I see guys doing everything they can to get a girl’s attention when what they should be doing is ignoring her.

Tempest sets the glass on the table. “Just signal me if you need anything,” she says in that sweet rasp of a voice. She’s not the kind of chick every guy goes for, especially with that attitude of hers. But that voice and those tattoos go right to my crotch.

She probably thinks I’m going to hit her up for her number again. Instead I just nod and mumble, “Mm hmm,” while I stare at the screen in front of me.

As I take a sip of scotch—and I have to say, it’s really fucking good—I think about the bet I made with the others. I stand to lose thirty grand or win three grand. Hardly fair, but that’s beside the point. I would risk a lot more than thirty grand to hook up with a woman this hot.

That’s when it occurs to me that Risk Versus Reward would be a perfect topic for my speech. The idea that something of great value often necessitates taking great risks. If the perceived value is high enough, bigger risks to acquire something can actually be a wise approach. I start to type away, wanting to get this down before I forget it.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been at it when Tempest returns. “Ready for another?” She looks at the glass, picks it up, and drinks the last bit of scotch in it. Smiling, she says, “It would appear you are.”

“Did you just drink my expensive scotch?” I ask with a smirk.

“I can’t afford it on my wages,” she replies. “But you can. I’ll bring you another.”

The bar is still mostly empty and I’m her only table. Now’s the time to make a move.

When Tempest returns a minute later, I say, “Let me ask you something, Tempest: Do you consider yourself a risk taker?”

“You’re not getting my number, Mr. Ramsey.”

“Maddox.”

She smiles. “You’re not getting my number, Maddox.”

“I didn’t ask for it. I’m working on a speech about risk versus reward. Are you a risk taker?”

She purses her full lips and thinks. “Yeah, I think I am.”

I nod. “You seem like you would be.”

“Are you?” she asks. A cocked eyebrow is my response. Tempest laughs. “Yeah, dumb question I guess.”

I’ve got her talking to me. Now’s the time to push a little. “One of the things about risk versus reward is that the equation changes depending when new variables enter the picture.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Here we go.

“For example,” I say, “yesterday I wanted to ask you out, but whatever reward you saw in that evidently wasn’t enough to outweigh the risks involved. Fair enough?”

“More or less.”

“Now I’m going to change the variables to try to even out the equation.”

“And how would you do that?” Her skeptical expression tells me she’s ready to shoot me down again.

“If you go out with me, you decide where we go and what we do. Whatever you want, with no limits. Pick something you’ve always wanted to do and let’s do it.”

I really don’t care what she chooses. I know we’ll be in my bed at the end of the date, and that’s all that matters.

“Interesting variable, Maddox. I’ll think about it.”

Then she’s gone again. Not for long, though. In a couple of minutes, she’s back at my table.

“On this hypothetical date, we’ll do whatever I want?”

I nod.

“Anything?”

“Yep. Anything at all.”

“But you’re only in town for a few days.”

“We can go tonight,” I say.

“Okay. But you’re going to have to trust me with your credit card.”

What?

She sees my expression. “Is the reward worth the risk?” she asks with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

There’s really nothing she could buy that would hurt me in any way. I take out my wallet and hand her my Amex Black Card. The card has no limit, but I can call and have them put a temporary one on it, just to protect myself. My instincts tell me I can trust Tempest not to do anything stupid, though, and my instincts are almost never wrong.

Tempest takes the card. “Meet near the hotel front desk at five?” she asks.

“Sounds perfect. I’m on a conference panel that’s coming up soon, so I need to get going. Put my drinks on the card.” I close my laptop and stand up. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, Tempest.”

I lean forward to kiss her on the cheek and she pulls away.

I’m beginning to sense that getting to know Tempest won’t be easy.

Getting her into bed, though? That won’t be a problem.