Heartbreak Me by T.L. Smith Page 0,9

glued to him, not caring that he has already lost fifty-thousand dollars by the end of the first hand.

“Gentlemen.” I giggle as round man touches my leg again, this time taking it up higher over my dress but now on my thigh, as I look up to the voice that has entered the room.

I could pick that voice out of a line-up.

Atlas walks over to me, nods to round man, then sits in the spare seat next to me. Round man’s hand pauses on my leg as the game continues. He seems to be paying more attention, and he adds another fifty thousand dollars, which ups his bet to one hundred and fifty.

I touch his shoulder, stroking it gently as it comes around to his turn. He loses again, and instead of being angry, he turns to kiss me. I manage to move my head at the very last second, making his lips touch my cheek. When I do move my face, I see Atlas, who’s watching me with amusement and fascination in his eyes.

Someone wins.

The game is done.

I go to peel myself from round man, but he holds on tight.

“I would gladly lose again, double that amount, if it means I get to take you home for the night.”

My eyes go wide at his words.

What? I did not agree to that.

I am no man’s whore.

Scanning around the room, I find Atlas talking to another player when our eyes connect.

He smirks, then turns and walks away.

Chapter Five

Atlas

I watched her play the perfect part. Theadora did exactly as I thought she would and was the perfect distraction. Lucy once did the same, but Lucy liked to play with the big boys, and she tended to push buttons to see how far she could go, which wasn’t all that wise.

Theadora, well, she is the complete opposite of her sister in every way possible.

Which makes her interesting.

Lucy is like the grass that’s always green in winter—predictable and simple.

Theadora is like the thorns that sting when you touch a beautiful rose—multidimensional and complex.

She is riveting.

I like to watch her.

I want to study her.

See what makes her tick. Is it me or is it something else?

“Remove Mr. London and escort Theadora home.”

“He will not be happy,” Garry says with a smirk.

“No. No, he probably won’t be.” I wouldn’t be happy either if someone was about to pull Theadora out of my bed. But the difference between Mr. London and me, she would never dare enter my bed, nor will she be allowed near it. “And tell her to keep the dress.”

Garry nods and walks off.

I go back to the office and turn on the camera so I can see her—she’s looking up at it for help. And as if she knows it’s me watching her, she raises her middle finger so no one else can see and flips me off.

I smile. A big, fat smile.

I haven’t done that in a long time.

Garry walks over to her, and she turns away from the camera. He speaks to Mr. London, who does not look pleased that he’s being told he’s about to lose his blonde beauty, and Theadora is replaced with a call girl who I have on staff who is more than happy to have sex for money. She touches him where he wants to be touched, soothing his outburst that was about to come, with her warm hands in just the right places.

Theadora looks up to the camera as she is walking out and her lips thin before I can no longer see her.

“Just over two hundred thousand,” our accounts guy tells me. “Seems she may be a lucky charm,” he states, then turns, leaving my office.

Her player lost almost all of his hands, which with what her sister owes, is a significant amount to pay back. Mr. London only loses when he’s distracted. If you take away the womanly distractions, he will always win. But put them in his way, and we will win. We learned this earlier when he first started coming into the casino.

As I start to close everything down for the evening, in walks Sydney with a clipboard in hand and glasses on.

“Lucy is screaming for attention, and her sister seems to be asking Garry for information on you,” she says, looking up over the rim of her glasses.

“Give Lucy what she wants, and who cares, let Theadora dig. He won’t say anything.”

Sydney nods then turns to leave. “Should I collect the dress tomorrow?”

“No,” I say, looking up at Sydney.

“That’s a