Chapter Two
Gabrielle was an orphan and had been on her own since she escaped the last foster home at seventeen. Eye-catching in appearance, she’d had to fend off more than one undesired male, including the very male in the household who was supposed to be protecting her.
She was street smart and highly intelligent, so she learned quickly. She had managed to support herself, picking up odd jobs and getting her GED. She paid her way through college, working as a waitress in the evenings. She excelled at everything she took on and her driving goal was to be independent. She never wanted to be a part of the system again; not in any sense or at any time.
Las Vegas had called to the girl from small town Iowa. The weather was an improvement, but the plentiful amount of jobs for a girl who looked like her was even more inviting. The biggest draw, however, were the people who she could meet. She was going to maximize her potential and then look for the contacts that could give her the kind of exciting life she really wanted. She made up her mind she would not fall for the first good-looking guy who promised her a white picket fence. She wanted to earn things her own way; she didn’t want anything given to her. When you accepted gifts, you had to deal with the strings that were attached. That wasn’t for her.
After a series of small part-time gigs, she’d gotten her foot in at the Bellagio. She had her master’s degree in business management and the Bellagio would be the perfect place to plant it. She knew she could use a bit more of the sophisticated polish they would want, but she was here to learn.
The accident with the tray had been the result of seeing someone come into the bar that looked very much like one of her foster fathers, Carl Smithers. Oddly, he had only been a few years older than her. His wife was eleven years older than him and they had taken in foster children for the extra money. Gabrielle was a looker, in his opinion, and he’d tried to crawl into her narrow, lumpy bed one night when his wife was passed out from cheap gin. Gabrielle had screamed and that had started the other kids screaming. He scrambled out but his wife had finally realized what was going on and thrown him out of the house. She didn’t care if he slept with others; she just didn’t want to risk losing the foster income. As he packed his suitcase, he threatened Gabrielle that he’d track her down and have her when she was “legal.” He walked with a crooked leg and had pock-marked cheeks. Dropping the tray had created a diversion and she’d never gotten a chance to verify whether it was Carl, or not. She would be careful from now on, sticking a small knife in a pocket she’d sewn into her bra.
Gabrielle was rather grateful to the dark-eyed sheikh who had put in a good word for her. She was mad at herself for having made such a mess of things. That little incident could have put an end to her dreams. Once you got fired from one hotel, you would have tremendous difficulty finding a position at another. It had been a close call and she wouldn’t repeat it.
***
Arran made his phone calls as soon as he arose the next morning. The businessmen were to be meeting in his suite. It provided a casual, and yet appropriate atmosphere, and his guests could spend some time in the casino afterwards. He knew his guests would be more amenable to his demands if they were thinking ahead to the winnings they would enjoy downstairs. He’d taken a swim in the pool and exercised for an hour before lunch. Dressed in business casual, he decided to grab lunch downstairs and headed directly to the Russian Bar in search of his green-eyed enigma named Gabrielle.
Sure enough, she was working. He took the same seat at the bar as he had the previous evening and waited for her to notice. She eventually did and simply nodded, but did not come any closer. Arran suspected that she was avoiding him because she couldn’t repay the cost of the ruined gown. He had checked with the front desk and the replacement had cost $2,500, which was less than he’d expected. It was still a great deal of money for a waitress, though, and he needed to figure out some way to get the money to her and still preserve her pride.
Arran walked out to the gambling floor and purchased two $2,500 chips. Pocketing these, he went back into the bar and when Gabrielle’s back was turned, he motioned to the bartender, Ben, that he wanted to speak with him. He explained briefly that Ben could earn one of the $2,500 chips as a personal tip if he saw to it that Gabrielle received the other, anonymously. Ben was to tell her it had been a tip from one of her customers and so far, Arran had not been one, so she wouldn’t suspect him. He warned the bartender that he had a way of checking and from the look on his face, Ben believed him.
Arran left then and went back to his suite to welcome the first of his business associates. Later that afternoon, Ben called Gabrielle over and gave her a glass cup with coins, a few bills and the chip. “Your tips,” he said vaguely. She noted the chip and her brows went up.
“Hey, you got a nice ass,” he commented with a grin and Gabrielle stiffened, but said nothing. She’d taken the tips, dumped them into her apron pocket and went about her business as if it were an every-day occurrence. Inside, however, she was shaking. Who would have given me a tip like that? she tried to reason. Carl couldn’t have scraped up that kind of money in a year. It must have been someone who won big and was too drunk to cash out his chips, she told herself. At least this would put her even with that sheikh whatever his name was. She didn’t like owing anyone.
When Arran had concluded that days’ meetings, he adjourned to the solarium to relax. The butler brought him an envelope. “This came for you, sir, while you were in meetings.”
Arran opened the envelope and smiled. There was two thousand dollars in crisp twenties and a note that read, “Paid in Full – GS.”
He tossed the envelope on the table next to him and made a call. When he hung up, he had all the information the hotel had available on Ms. Gabrielle Standish. With one additional call, he would have a dossier within 48 hours for whatever the hotel didn’t know.
That evening he didn’t enter the bar. Instead he went down the street and entered some very exclusive, expensive shops. Some of his favorites were Coach, Christian Louboutin, Charlotte Olympia and Burberry. He stopped by Fendi, Giorgio Armani, Kate Spade, Mulberry, Versace and of course, Cartier. In each shop he requested their on-staff designer and showed them a picture of Gabrielle he’d surreptitiously captured with his cell phone. It showed her general size, assets, and of course, her unique coloring. He had everything he’d ordered delivered to one of the suites on the same floor where he was staying, and had that room put on reservation for the next two weeks. He was baiting his line, and Ms. Standish would be worth every penny.