The Billionaire's Bluff Page 2

  Of course, I have never been tempted to “look the other way” from anything and to be honest, I had never received any gifts. I knew several of the girls who had, and even some of the guys. They didn’t work here anymore. Besides, since we weren’t allowed to keep the gifts, it unfortunately turned out to be nothing but a waste of money and effort on the player's part. Most of them didn’t know that, but the regulars did. Someone who played as often as Ben would certainly realize it, as well. Sometimes one of the girls would get a small bouquet of flowers, a bottle of perfume, or other small things. The owners of this casino tended to donate gifts, appropriate ones like flowers, to local hospitals. Other gifts, including jewelry, money, or other things, were often given to the Salvation Army or some other needy cause.

  "I snatched it out of the security office and brought it up here for you,” Savannah said, lowering her voice and wiggling her eyebrows, as though she was really smart.

  My eyes widened and I grew concerned. "Did security see you? What if they know you grabbed it?" It kind of made me angry because if they thought I had taken it, I was the one that was going to get into trouble.

  She shook her head and giggled again. "Don’t worry, Maggie, no one was looking, and I stowed it in my locker. I heard this really cute guy tell the pit boss that it was for you, and the pit boss took it to the security room, as usual. He left, and it was empty for a moment, so I quickly grabbed it and hurried to the break room."

  I was extremely irritated. The security room had cameras, too! Savannah thought she had been doing me a favor. She worked as a cocktail waitress at the casino, and we had been hired on the same day. We had gone through orientation together and most of the time we were good friends. The problem was that Savannah had a way of doing things her way and not the necessarily according to casino rules, or at least, the way the casino wanted it done, so she often found herself on the receiving end of trouble.

  "Wanna see?" she asked excitedly.

  I sighed. I suppose she wasn't going to leave me alone until I told her I did, so I offered a reluctant nod. She quickly hurried over to her locker, unlocked the padlock, and then opened the door. Our lockers looked so much like the lockers I've had in high school that it always brought back fond memories of my more carefree years. In a matter of seconds, Savannah turned around, holding an oblong box that actually looked like it could hold a pair of boots. The box was constructed of thick white spackled cardboard tied with the big red ribbon. She extended it to me, but I shook my head.

  "You want me to open it?"

  I could literally feel her excitement and nodded. I wasn't particularly interested, but it was obvious she was. Placing the box down on the table where we often ate a quick meal on our breaks, she slowly untied the length of red fabric and embossed ribbon. She wrapped the ribbon around her fingers and I knew she was going to save it. I didn’t care. Glancing at me, she tucked the roll of ribbon into her locker. Then, as if teasing herself, she very slowly and very carefully lifted the lid off the box. The minute the lid came off, we were both met with the luscious, decadent, and rich aroma of dark chocolate.

  Instinctively, my mouth watered. We both leaned over the box to find a square, dark brown, silk-draped wooden box. She lifted the lid. Inside were nestled eight gold wrapped balls of chocolate. Impressive. Nestled beside the selection of chocolates was a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau dessert wine.

  "These are Delancy of Switzerland chocolates, Maggie! Look at the logo!"

  I had no idea what Delancy of Switzerland was.

  "I've seen these once, at a fancy party. They're like over three-hundred dollars a box!"

  "For eight chocolate balls?" I asked, frowning.

  "They're not just chocolate…there's edible twenty-four karat gold flakes wrapped into the chocolate. These also come with a gold coin from the Swiss National Bank. The gold coins were minted between 1910 in 1920. They're worth about one-hundred-thirty dollars."

  I had no idea how she’d gotten such information, but I didn’t really care. To spend so much money on chocolate seemed very frivolous to me. She looked at me with what I construed as envy.

  "A friend of mine told me that each gold leaf is worked by hand."

  I pretended interest.

  "There's a card inside," she exclaimed.

  She could hardly contain herself. I laughed at her excitement. "What does it say?"

  She reached inside, delicately grasped the card between her fingernails, painted fire engine red, quickly scanned the card, looked at me with a grin, and then read, "To my Queen of Hearts, from the man who admires from afar."

  I sighed. Maybe Ben hadn't given up so easily, after all.

  "Ooh, I'm already in love with your secret admirer!" she laughed.

  She looked at me in amazement when I had no reaction. I tried to keep my expression blank when as a matter of fact, I felt annoyed. Someone as experienced at playing Blackjack or visiting casinos, for that matter, as Ben was, or appeared to be, should know that giving gifts to the dealers was frowned upon. What, did he think he was above the rules? Obviously.

  "What's the matter?" Savannah asked. "The guy was drop-dead gorgeous! Do you know how much these chocolates must have cost? Look where they're from! Oh my God! You did hear what I said, didn't you? They’re Delancy…from Switzerland!

  I glanced at the card and saw the logo, and then nodded. "Way beyond my pay grade," I commented.

  "What are you going to do?" she asked.

  I shook my head. I had an inkling that I was going to have to have another talk with Ben, one that I wasn't particularly looking forward to. While flattering, no doubt about it, this was not the kind of interest I needed right now in my life. I glanced down at my watch, realized it was just about time to clock in for my shift. I started to move away from the table.

  "Maggie!"

  "What?" I asked, turning around.

  "Aren't you going to take this?"

  I shook my head. "No, you can have it if you want, or at least, if you can sneak it out to your car. I just hope you don't get caught." With that, I walked out of the break room and into the casino. The noise of the place immediately assailed my senses, more irritating to me tonight than usual. The sound of the slot machines, the exuberant shouts and laughter of gamblers, bystanders, and of course, those who just wanted to get drunk and party barraged my ears.

  I made my way to my table. To my relief, Ben wasn't sitting there, at least, not yet. As I exchanged position with the former dealer, I made sure of that everything was ready for the switchover. The blackjack table was curved almost like a kidney. I was tucked into the inside curve, while as many as five players could be seated around the other side of my table.

  I was ready to take over and nodded. The players sitting at the table placed their bets. I settled into a routine for each hand: dealing one card face up to each player and one card face up to myself. Then I placed a second face up card for each player, but I placed my second card face down. If any of the players’ cards facing up consisted of any ten card and an ace or a face card and an ace, that player automatically won his bet in addition to an extra fifty percent. If I had such a hand, all the players lost their bets and the game started over.

  A lot of times, my players wanted to double-down, indicating that they wanted to make a second bet, with the condition that they could only take one more card. Then there were the times when a player who received two cards of identical value chose to split them into two new hands. I always played my hand last, but I always had to stand or hold if my cards totaled seventeen or higher, or I could take a hit or another card if they didn't.

  The game would continue until every player around the table either decided to stand or hold, exceeded twenty-one, or, if they were lucky, made blackjack, or twenty-one. Any player whose hand exceeded mine won an equal amount to his or her starting bet, but if my total was higher, the player would lose.

  It was fairly mundane, at least for my part, and within a few minutes, I had settled into
it. Of course, I kept track of who came in and who left the game, and sure enough, about halfway through my shift, I saw Ben heading to my table. My heart gave a little leap, not quite out of excitement, but in uncertainty. Should I say something about the gift? I couldn’t in front of other players. Would he think me rude for not mentioning it? Then again, what would he do if he found out that the expensive gift he bought was something I couldn't accept? He knew that already, didn’t he?

  I decided that I would play it cool. He seemed to be a damn good mood when he sat down, a glass of amber liquid next to him. He flirted with me a little bit, but I didn't respond. I smiled politely, but deliberately tried to keep my focus away from his gaze and focused more on his cards. I had no patience for him tonight. Then again, maybe it wasn't Ben who had sent the chocolates, after all. He hadn't signed his name to the card.

  Queen of Hearts. Charming, no doubt about it, but perhaps I shouldn't say anything, just in case he hadn't been the one to give me the gift. That really would be embarrassing, wouldn't it? Thanking him for something that he hadn't even given me. Still, I had a good feeling that the expensive chocolates and the dessert wine had come from him.

  However, as the gameplay continued, he didn't say much to me, mainly gesturing for whether he wanted to stand or hit, and I didn't let on that I knew anything out of the ordinary. Still, I began to grow increasingly annoyed. When it was time for my break, I gestured for the pit boss. He glanced at his watch and nodded, and as soon as another girl came to take my place, I excused myself and headed toward the break room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Ben also left the table, but headed in the opposite direction. On an impulse, I followed him, careful not to give any of the pit bosses or security guys the indication I was following him. That wouldn't do it all.

  He paused by the front doors and then stepped outside. Was he going to have a cigarette or was he leaving? I had never smelled cigarette smoke on him, but what did I know? I wasn't sure. He had turned toward the parking lot when I exited the casino after him. When he heard my heels on the stone walkway, he turned around, smiling. When he realized it was me, he nodded a greeting.

  "Good evening, Maggie," he said, as if he hadn't been sitting at my table for the last couple of hours.

  I blurted out the first words that came out of my mouth. "Why did you send those chocolates and the dessert wine?" For a second, he seemed surprised, but then he smiled, and then laughed.

  "You're crazy," he said. "I wouldn't do anything like that."

  He didn't say it in a mean way, but as though he was surprised. Still, I wondered if he was telling me the truth or if he was denying it because he was embarrassed. Then again, why would he be embarrassed? I wondered if he got turned down very often. To him, a three-hundred dollar box of chocolates was probably nothing, and I had no idea how much the bottle of wine at cost.

  "You didn't deliver a box of chocolates and a bottle of dessert wine for me earlier this evening?" I asked, still doubtful.

  He shook his head and grinned again. "Of course, my offer still stands. You want to have a drink with me?" His grin widened, exposing a flash of white teeth. "Of course, it doesn't have to be Beaujolais Nouveau dessert wine, but it can be if you want it to."

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. My eyes widened and I frowned. "You did send the chocolates and the wine!"

  "Perhaps," he shrugged. "Then again, I only know of a few dessert wines, and they're certainly popular, especially in the northeast, so who's to say?"

  I didn't want to play mind games. I had no patience for them. Glancing down at my watch, I saw I had to get back inside. I looked up at him, about to say something, and then paused. What the hell? Just the prospect of going out with someone like him, or even anyone at this point, was overwhelming. Then again, I was twenty-four years old and I did need to have some fun in my life, didn't I? Besides, he would be paying for it, wouldn't he? It was if he could sense my hesitance.

  "Going once, going twice…"

  It was the grin that got me and the playful attitude. "Casual? No strings?"

  "No strings, Maggie."

  "Well, tomorrow is my day off." He continued to stare at me, and I found myself drowning in the depth of his eyes. "Okay, I'll go out with you, but it doesn't mean anything, okay? No pressure!"

  He laughed again. "You won't regret it," he said. "I'll pick you up at your place around one o'clock, okay? We'll do lunch. That’s not intimidating, don't you agree?"

  I did, and nodded.

  As far as I was concerned, though, that remained to be seen. I quickly gave him my cell phone number and told him where I lived, but only the apartment complex address, not my apartment number. I told him to call me when he arrived and I would meet him downstairs. I watched him hurry off into the parking lot, immediately wondering if I had just made a big mistake. I had to get back to work. I had to focus and concentrate. While I was a little excited at the prospect of going out with a rich guy, and a handsome one at that, I had to be careful not to set my expectations too high. Besides, I didn't want anything permanent, so it didn't really matter – did it?

  Chapter 3

  I spent most of my morning taking care of chores. I took a load of laundry down into the basement of my building, dusted and vacuumed my small apartment, and did a little shopping. Basically just trying to keep myself busy, trying not to get too anxious about my upcoming date with Ben. I wondered what it would be like to be so rich I could have someone do all these chores for me, and then decided that even if I were, I would probably end up doing them myself, anyway. Idle hands were the devil’s workshop, or so my mother always used to tell me.

  Still, a break once in a while would be greatly appreciated, and I hadn't really had one since that horrid morning, not so terribly long ago, when I found the note my then husband had left on the kitchen table. One of the comments the he’d made in the letter had stuck with me, gnawing at me like a wound that refuses to heal. He had claimed I was holding him back. Holding him back! From what?

  My ex-husband was an auto mechanic, a good one, but one without much ambition. He wanted to own his own shop, even a chain of them, but did little to help himself reach that goal. Me? I had pretty much given up a college education to get married, thinking naïvely that together, we could make all our dreams come true. It didn't take long for my dreams to get dashed and squashed underfoot. I didn't realize until we'd been married for several months that my husband was easily discouraged. When he became discouraged, he drank, not that we could afford to spend the money on beer like he did.

  His dissatisfaction with life and the fact that he often drank himself into a stupor to escape reality and then tended to take it out on me, verbally, hadn't helped any. He had never struck me, but I was damned if I was going to spend the rest of my life with a potential alcoholic or someone who spent more time feeling sorry for himself than trying to pull himself up and forward.

  I have to admit that the letter he left me on the kitchen table, though it hurt and cut me deeply, was in some ways a relief. After all, I’d also caught him sleeping with a woman, in my bed no less. While he was the one that accused me of holding him back, I wanted more out of life, and I was willing to work hard for it. The problem was that now, with bills to pay, finding time when I could even think about going back to school and paying for it, were just a few of the issues that held me down. Sure, I could get loans, but I had to consider paying them back. I had applied for some scholarships, but nothing ever came of it. I had had pretty much been forced to take any job I could find, and the job at the casino had been it.

  Ever since then, I'd been trying to make ends meet. There was no time for anything else, let alone going to classes and finding time to study. I picked up extra shifts at the casino when I could and I had a few dollars put aside, but it certainly didn't amount to much, and would probably take care of maybe one month's rent, maybe two. Thoughts of Ben and people like him who had oodles of money that they didn't know what to do with irri
tated me to no end on occasion, but I tried not to be jealous, envious, or covet what they had and I didn't. That was self-defeating and it didn't take much to get me depressed about it. Sometimes I wondered if I would ever be able to live beyond paycheck to paycheck.

  That had me wondering. Ben sounded interested in me, but was he really? Or was I just a distraction for him? And even if I wasn't, I certainly wasn't ready to begin another relationship. I certainly wasn't willing to risk my heart or the carefully balanced equilibrium I had finally achieved. Work, come home, maybe watch some TV if my cable hadn't been shut off due to unpaid bills, go to bed, get up, repeat. That was my life.

  By the time I finished with my chores and got dressed for my date, or whatever we were calling it; my heart was beginning to race with a combination of anticipation and dread. What should I wear? I had no idea. I should have asked where we were going.

  Of course, the city was home to hundreds of restaurants and since I decided we certainly wouldn't be going to McDonald's, I decided on a simply cut pair of black slacks and an ivory-colored silk tank top with a string tie around the waist. I finished off the simple ensemble with a pair of black flats. I hoped my attire would be adequate for wherever we were going. I expected him to call at any moment, and then wondered if I had insulted him when I had just given him the apartment complex address and not my apartment number. Still, because I wasn't too sure about him, I didn't exactly want him knowing which apartment was mine. A girl couldn't be too careful these days.

  By the time my cell phone rang, I had worked myself into quite a state of anxiety. I had been pacing my apartment for the last twenty minutes; even though I had known what time he would be picking me up. I finally got disgusted with myself. For crying out loud, it was lunch, not a marriage proposal! Still, as I answered the phone, my hand trembled.