Sofie
“Are you sure it’s not too big?” I ask.
“I thought you liked things big,” Eli jokes as he fastens a silver chain around my neck.
At the end of the chain is a diamond pendant so big, Miley Cyrus could ride it naked while crashing through a wall.
“It’s heavy.” I giggle. The diamond nestles just at the top of my cleavage, between my breasts.
“It’s perfect,” Eli reassures me. “Just like they say. Everything’s bigger in Vegas!”
“That’s Texas,” I snicker. “But I get your point.”
The diamond necklace was an unnecessary gift, and I told Eli so. But he insisted that my dress needed jewellery to match, and I think after all that Breakfast at Tiffany’s earlier, he was feeling inspired.
He’s carrying the little blue box the diamond came in in a shopping bag for me. We drop it off at the front desk of the luxury hotel he’s booked, along with some unnecessarily expensive lingerie, silk pajamas, and delicious massage oil that Eli deemed equally necessary.
I would have begged to differ, but honestly, Eli is so stubborn that there wouldn’t be any use. When he sets his mind to something, it’s like nothing can get in his way.
Which is why I’m letting him take me to the casino. Gambling has never made much sense to me, but Eli seems excited, and it’s infectious.
“I don’t know how to gamble,” I warn him as we take the casino floor.
The space is huge, and everything in it seems to glitter. We slide past a poker table where two pot-bellied cowboys and four befeathered showgirls are pushing chips and cards back and forth between two Japanese businessmen and a dealer.
“Then we’ll stay away from the card shark stuff,” Eli says, guiding me away toward greener pastures.
“Do you play?”
He laughs. “I do, but Lucas is better. Smug bastard cheats. Or counts cards. I’ve never really known for sure. For you, though, my darling,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me toward a huge roulette table, “a game of chance might be a better bet.”
“No skill required?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.
“None at all. Just a little luck.”
I shake my head. “Maybe we should just go get dinner.”
“At eleven at night?”
“I’m starving,” I say, which is true. In the whirlwind of getting ready for the date, boarding a private jet, the margaritas, and the orgasms, I totally forgot to eat. “And I’m not exactly known for my luck.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re gambling with my money,” Eli says, reaching into his tuxedo jacket and pulling out a stack of bills so fat I’m pretty sure the table groans when he throws it down. “Pick a number, any number.”
I bite my lip as I look up at him uncertainly. Either those margaritas hit him harder than they should have or he’s trying to impress me.
It’s working too. I can’t even fathom having that much money. He could burn and the result would be just the same.
“It’s your death wish,” I say with a shrug.
The dealer is looking at me expectantly. In a small panic, I point at a number at random.
“69 red,” Eli says, raising an eyebrow. “Something on your mind, Sofie?”
I smile and nestle beneath his arm as the roulette wheel rolls.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
So look. Don’t tell me the odds. I’m a bio girl. Math can be a little foreign to me, and frankly, knowing would ruin it.
But whatever those odds are, my mouth falls open in disbelief as the little black ball rolls into my chamber. Red 69.
“Holy shit,” I say, staring.
Begrudgingly, the dealer shoves more chips over to us than we can reasonably carry.
“Sofie,” Eli whispers in my ear. “Celebrate!”
Frankly, I’m just shocked. But Eli told me to have fun tonight, and I absolutely intend to.
“We won!” I squeal, jumping up and down.
Eli spins me around in his arms as my heart pounds in my chest. I have an idea how people can get addicted to this feeling.
Luckily, Eli’s kiss is even better. He still tastes like margarita and cunt.
“You’re my good luck charm,” I tell him, grinning like an idiot.
“Or you’re mine.” He grins back.
“Grrrrrrrrrr,” says my stomach, loud enough that the whole table can hear us.
Taking the hint, we cash out, having effectively doubled Eli’s gambling budget in one go.
“I hope you like steak,” Eli says, pulling back the straps of my dress and tucking the thick stacks of bills against my breasts. “You’re buying.”
“Mmm. And caviar too.”
“Lobster thermidor.”
“And their finest bottle of Armand de Brignac,” I add cruelly.
Eli pulls a face. “Oliver would literally murder me.”
“Over overpriced champagne?”
Eli nods. “That man takes his dining experiences very seriously.”
We end up sitting across a candlelit table from each other in an otherwise empty restaurant. The waiter looks tired and annoyed until Eli plucks a few hundred dollar bills from my bra and hands them over. That perked him right up.
“If you keep tipping at this rate, we’re going to be broke,” I tease.
“Then don’t ask me how much I had to tip the manager to open this place back up for us.”
“We could have settled for fast food,” I point out.
“You wanted steak,” Eli reminds me. “Not meat paste.”
“True,” I agree.
We order the prime rib.
“Tell me, Sofie,” Eli says as I devour my medium-rare like a semi-refined animal, “a girl like you—beauty, smarts, et cetera et cetera. What is it that you’re chasing? What do you want?”
“Hmm. The strawberry cheesecake sounds nice.”
What? I don’t fuck around when it comes to food.
“I’m serious, Sofie. What does a gorgeous little heart like yours desire?”
I pat my lips with a napkin and sit back, considering it.
“I guess...” I begin, a little embarrassed. “I want to make the world a better place. The way that you and Oliver and Lucas do.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I’m serious,” I assure him. “When I got the internship at BioKin, I was through the moon. Honestly. You guys are kind of my heroes.”
“We’re not heroes, Sofie.” Eli chuckles. But if I’m not mistaken, even in the soft glow of the candlelight, there’s a faint blush to his handsome cheeks. “We’ve been afforded a lot of privileges in our lives. My last name. Lucas’s money.” He leans back in his chair, looking at me like I just made his year. “You should tell this to Oliver, though. He grew up pretty poor. Gave me that same make the world a better place speech himself once upon a time.”
“I grew up…not in the best way either, truth be told,” I say, picking up my fork and pushing the parsley garnish around my plate with it. “My parents died in a car accident when I was pretty young. I spent a lot of my childhood being shuffled from foster home to foster home.”
“Ah,” Eli says solemnly. “Thus, the Fostering Angels auction.”
“Yeah,” I say with a small smile, “but I would have gone out with you and Lucas and Oliver even if you hadn’t given an insane amount of money to my charity of choice.”
“That’s reassuring.” Eli laughs. “You never struck me as the kind of woman who could be easily bought. It was part of why bidding on you was such a fucking thrill.”
“Among other things.”
“Among other things,” Eli agrees. “So, after you graduate, you’re saving the world. Have you thought any about how?”
I consider it for a second.
“I could go sail around with Greenpeace for a while, I guess. Save the whales. Or join the Peace Corps, maybe. Although, I’m not sure how badly they need bio majors.”
“You could always come work for us,” Eli offers. I can see him watching my expression intently as he says it, like he’s trying to gauge my reaction before it happens. “You’re already familiar with BioKin’s work. And we need smart, creative, driven people like you, Sofie.”
“Is this a dinner date or a job interview?”
“Oh, no,” Eli says with a sly smile. “Definitely a date. If it was an interview, I couldn’t do what I’m planning on doing to you when I get you up to our room.”
Now I’m the one blushing. But before my face can go full fire-engine red, thankfully, the champagne arrives.
“Clos d’Ambonnay,” Eli names it as the waiter pours us two sparkling glasses. “Don’t worry.”
“With you? Never.” I wrap my fingers around the stem as Eli does the same.
“To your ambitions, Sofie Carson,” he says, raising his glass in a toast. “Wherever they might lead you.”
Our glasses make a beautiful noise as we clink them together. The champagne makes me feel all warm and giddy inside as I take a sip. Or maybe that’s just how Eli makes me feel. Who knows?
As Eli asks for the dessert menu, I can’t help but feel like this has to be more than just sex. It’s the same feeling I had in the plane, like I really matter to him. Like I’m more than just something he wants to put his dick in.
Although, as my cheesecake arrives, I have to admit it. If he wants to put his dick in me again anyway, I sure as hell won’t mind.