The night air is stifling, yet there’s something about the desert I’m starting to love. Brown has never been my color, but mix it with the red and orange of the sun, and it’s quickly become a shade I can appreciate. Don’t get me wrong, I’m counting the days until I can return to California, where I can dip my toes into the ocean and relax on the beach with enough of a breeze to keep me cool. This hot, tepid place is bad for my overall sense of being.

I turn and rest my elbows on the railing of my balcony. The glass doors separating the inside of my penthouse from my terrace are open, at least for the time being. Once fall arrives, I’ll have them open more so I can enjoy the somewhat cooler temperatures. Right now though, they have to remain shut. The last thing I want is for my guests to feel uncomfortable while I’m trying to sell them on everything Las Vegas has to offer.

One of the event planners finishes stringing the last of the white lights, while the other members of the staff simultaneously pop open the many champagne bottles needed to create the fountain I had to have. It’s frivolous, but Daddy’s paying and only the best will suffice when it comes to his checkbook.

Inside, soft music plays through the surround sound, setting the right type of ambiance. I turn the dial down one notch, satisfied with the decibel level. Too loud and people can’t think properly. Too quiet and you can hear each other’s conversations from across the room. Neither are moments I want to happen, especially tonight. Everything has to be perfect. My father is counting on one of the influential investors to pad his pockets with the purchase of the Majesty. I’ll receive a bonus, of course, and likely a European trip if I can seal the deal on the adjacent property as well.

Excusing myself, I slip into my bedroom and change rather quickly. Thankfully, my personal shopper does her job well and has an assortment of cocktail dresses for me to wear. I step into a little black sequins number with a scoop neck and no back. Moving from side to side in front of the mirror, I admire the way I look and start pulling my hair up and putting it back down, depending on which way I’m standing, to decide what style I like best. I finally decide on a half up, half down look, glancing over my shoulder to make sure enough of my back is showing. This, by far, is one of my favorite dresses. I make a mental note to ask my gal to buy more from this designer.

Tonight, we’ll pretend we’re all friends, having dinner and drinks, and sharing a casual conversation. The only business discussions taking place will be the subtle hints I drop about what my father’s looking for. Mostly cash, but he’s not above taking cars, boats and lakefront properties.

As I come out of my room, my doorman is opening the door. The first of the investors are here. Everything about them, I have memorized. From their faces, names, wives, and husbands, children, and their businesses. I know who's banging their secretary, whose wife has a hot cabana boy, and whose side piece is pregnant. Pregnancy is always a bigger scandal than an affair. I march forward with authority. My hand’s extended and instantly in Ginger Madhu’s hand, shaking it firmly. Ginger’s husband, Frederic, kisses me on both cheeks. I can’t stand him. He uses Ginger for her money, and because of this, I often refer to him as Fred, which he absolutely hates. He likes to pretend he’s French when he’s really from some small town in Oklahoma. He forgets I know everything.

“Ginger, I’m so happy you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t have missed the chance to put my bid in.” She turns as the elevator dings. Out step Richard and Tara Bolton, Nevada’s self-proclaimed royal family. Tara rushes toward Ginger and embraces her. If Tara had a knife, she’d likely start stabbing Ginger while telling her how much she loves her.

“Richard, so good of you to make it.” He kisses me on my cheek and whispers into my ear, telling me how sexy I am. Pig. “Tara!” I step out of Richard’s grasp and hold my arms out for his wife to come toward me. She smiles, but it’s forced, and the hug she gives is cold. There’s definitely something wrong, but now isn’t the time to figure it out. Maybe she’s pissed I was able to score the new Louis bag the second it hit the shelf.

“I just love… well, I thought you’d change the décor since the last time we were here,” Tara says as she all but pushes me aside to enter my home. I do everything I can to keep from rolling my eyes. Richard snickers beside me, tapping my ass as he walks by me. Like I said, he’s a pig, and I hate having him in my home. Thankfully, with a house full of people and a staff, he won’t be able to try anything.

“I’ll add it to my list of things to accomplish before my next dinner party.” As much as I don’t want to change the décor in my house to appease her, I will. The last thing I need or want is for her to talk about me among our mutual friends. If words get back to my father, he’ll be rather upset with me for not satisfying his clients.

The elevator dings before I have a chance to make my way into the living room where the two couples are. Heath and Elaine McLeod walk through my door and embrace me in a tight hug. They’re Lana’s parents and here for moral support. Every time they hear about one of these dinners, they invite themselves. I don’t mind because I appreciate having someone here I can talk to without having to be fake or discuss business.

“Thank you for coming.” Elaine’s the closest person I have to a mother with my own gallivanting across the country, mending a broken heart for the past ten, or is it fifteen, years. After eight, I stopped counting, stopped caring. My father may be the worst, but he didn’t abandon me.

“We wouldn’t miss it. Besides, your view is amazing, and I wanted to capture a few images tonight.” Elaine pats the camera bag she’s carrying. Heath’s a doctor, while Elaine’s a photographer. Her prints garner four to five digits, and if you’re thinking about booking her for a wedding, think again. She’s booked solid for a year.

The last to arrive are Shan Caldwell and his date, who’s wearing some string dress and platform stripper shoes. This time, my eyes roll when he stops and sticks his tongue down her throat, and his hand slides up her leg, exposing her ass. I’ve known Shan for most of my life, and at one point our parents wanted us to get married. I probably would’ve taken the plunge, but Shan’s wandering eye and inability to keep his hands to himself are a huge turnoff to me. Call me old-fashioned, but when I marry, it’ll be for love and not business.

“Fiona,” Shan drags my name out as his kiss lingers all too close to my lips.

“Shan. I see you brought the best of Vegas with you. Let me guess, you woke up with her in your bed?” I keep my eyes on the woman, who is chomping on her gum like a cow chews its cud. He turns and extends his hand to her.

“This is Tiffany Desiree.”

“And what corner do you work on?” I’m not ashamed of my question. I’m totally judging her by the way she’s dressed and how handsy he is with her. Clearly, she doesn’t understand my insulting question by the look on her face. “Right, welcome.” I motion for Shan and his friend to go into the living room. The only other people who could possibly stop by are Lana or my father. Usually, my father won’t attend these functions because he looks culpable in the solicitation of gifts.

More people arrive. They’re either associates of my father or friends of his new wife. Either way, it doesn’t bother me. The larger the audience, the better the outcome. There is always someone who wants to outdo their competition.

The drinks are flowing. My champagne fountain seems to be a hit, especially with Tiffany, and the staff has put out our dinner. I stand back and watch the investors meander in and out of my library where I conveniently have the Majesty on display, along with the potential earnings if the remodel is done right. The Majesty is one of the rare properties in Vegas where expansion is possible.

“What’s your father looking for?” Shan asks as he comes to stand next to me on the balcony.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He leans his arms on the railing and nods. “I was at the car show the other day, came across the Lambo Huracan. I put a down payment on it. I was thinking of ordering two.”

I nod. “Probably a good idea.”

Shan brings his drink to his lips and swallows the rest of his Scotch. He leaves me there, knowing the price my father is willing to accept to streamline the permitting process. What would normally take years, he will make happen in days. Suddenly, when one of these applications crosses his desk, he’s not very busy and can make things happen rather quickly.

I step back into my house and watch the people I’ve invited into my home. They mingle among themselves, talking business and setting plans to get together for their imaginary golf games. As I look over the crowd, there’s a set of blue eyes, which do not belong here.

Walking through the crowd takes me longer than I intend with people stopping and talking to me.

“How’d you get in?” I ask, meeting his gaze. I’m taken aback by his strong jawline, which is covered in the perfect amount of stubble. I find this feature extremely attractive. My fingers itch to run through it, to feel his coarse hair tickle my skin. The rest of him looks perfect as if he were cut out of Vogue and set in the middle of my room to entice me with his broad shoulders and his visible physique. However, it’s his already sexed, roughed up looking hair that garners my attention or is it his mesmerizing blue eyes? Maybe a combination of both? Doesn’t matter because I didn’t invite him here.

Even though he has a glass of bourbon in his hand, he doesn’t take a drink. Most often, men will do this when approached by women. It’s their way of mustering up the courage to speak to the opposite sex. Yet, he holds it between his thumb and index finger, letting the amber liquid slosh back and forth. Odd, but his choice to ruin a perfectly fine liquor.

“The door was open?”

“Not likely,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest. I wrack my brain, trying to recall his name, but to no avail. This is unlike me. I pride myself on remembering everything about everyone. “Try again?”

This time, he brings the glass to his lips, and that’s when I see it, the Mark of the Fates. I step back, wondering why I didn’t notice this when we met. Instantly, I reach for my cross, only to find it’s not hanging around my neck. He notices but doesn’t budge, but his eyes meet mine. I don’t know what compulsion feels like, and I’m not willing to find out. “Excuse me.”

I leave him standing there and rush to my room. All I want is my necklace. Once it’s securely around my neck, I turn to find the vampire standing in my doorway. I swallow hard and try to stand tall, but my legs wobble in my stilettos. “Please leave.”

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Then why are you here?” I can feel my pulse throbbing, and I imagine he can see it pushing through my skin, beckoning him to come sink his teeth into my flesh.

“To talk business.”

“We don’t do business with your kind.”

The vampire steps into my room and closes the door behind him. I could scream, but he’d likely kill me, turn into a bat and fly away with my body. My luck, he’d leave me in the desert for the wild animals to eat me, once he’s drained me of my blood. “Please don’t.” I hold my hands up and back away slowly, but he steps back and leans against the door.

“I’m asking for five minutes. I’m not here to hurt you, suck your blood or kill anyone at your party. I’m here to talk business. I’m a legitimate businessman looking to break into the Vegas market.”

I square my shoulders and muster up all the courage I have. “My father doesn’t do business with vampires. I suggest you take your money to a state that favors your kind. Nevada isn’t it. Now get out of my house.” I point and stomp my foot for emphasis.