The woman, Elizabeth the steed, giggled and bowed her head as she extended her hand to Cane. Unsure how to react, and not interested in kissing the hand that had just been God knows where while all but dry humping Phillip of Windsor — or was it Berkshire? — in the hotel lobby, Cane opted for a firm handshake while Phillip could be seen tamping down panic as he searched for a recovery story.
“It’s Duke, actually. Of the non-royal affiliation,” Phillip said, pleased with his quick rebound. “I know many of your…class confuse us with royalty, but we simply…aren’t,” Phillip said with a certain air about him. “We’re more…the socialite type. Perhaps you could say, royalty of the Gold Coast. Afterall, we do have the largest properties and yacht and throw the best parties.”
“Gold Coast?” Cane raised his brow.
“Yes…sir. That’s where we live.” Phillip nodded with a subtle chuckle intended to be more insulting than endearing.
Cane wore a satisfied smirk and added an ounce of pomp and circumstance to his own tone. “I was certain you said you were from Berkshire, by way of England.”
“Yes. Yes, I did,” Phillip snorted. “You feeling okay, ol’ chap?”
“Gold Coast is Australia. Explains the accent, I guess.” Cane couldn’t wait to hear what his new globetrotting conman had up his sleeve next. He’d probably never set foot on either country’s soil.
It was Elizabeth who gave it away, wearing the caught in the act expression first, and it was oh-so-pleasing for Cane to see. He liked to make things really uncomfortable and watch people squirm.
Phillip was good at his game, however. Quick on his toes, fake accent firmly placed in Australia now. “Oh, yes, mate. We do have a home down under as well. You know, the toilets there, they flush in the opposite direction than they do here.”
“Do they now?” Cane asked as he grabbed his bottled water from the counter, completely aware of the side-eye he was earning from Charlie.
“Wow,” Charlie interrupted. “Sounds…interesting. How about we get you two cunts upstairs to your suite. I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking.”
Cane sprayed water from his mouth in an effort to avoid choking. Charlie gasped, shocked at his display of rude behavior, unaware it was her statement which provoked the spit bath.
“Excuse me?” Elizabeth said, wide-eyed, grasping at her chest in offense. Oddly, she carried neither an English or Australian accent.
“How dare you.” Phillip turned his nose up just so he could look down at Charlie. “Is this how you treat all your guests? First, we get the fifth degree from this…this…Neanderthal,” he said, pointing to Cane. “Now name calling?”
“Name calling?” Charlie’s cheeks turned crimson. “I’d never… I mean… I…”
She looked to Cane, who was laughing — something he didn’t do often. Or ever. If it weren’t already obvious, the Windsors of England, by way of Australia, were quite offended, and total frauds.
“It’s third degree,” Cane corrected. “And I’m simply interested in making sure we have the appropriate staff in place to satisfy your security while staying with us…since you don’t have your own detail.” Cane nodded. “I think Miss Adams is using cunt as an endearing term, not derogatory — after all, it’s native Australian slang. But I’m sure you’re already putting that together, given you’re from Australia.”
“Oh,” Phillip said, grabbing a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his brow. “I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. Seems we’ve been in the states a little too long if we’re forgetting the language back…home.” Phillip wrapped his arm around the girl he was with, plastered on a million-dollar smile, and hollered, “We’re all just a bunch of cunts around here! Yes, please. Show us to our suite. This cunt could use a nap.” He bumped Elizabeth’s hip with his own.
Elizabeth’s face soured. “Yes. Please do.” She fixed her glare on Phillip. “This cunt smells like he needs a shower. Too much time in the smoky casino.”
“Of course,” Charlie swayed from one foot to the other, trying to avoid eye contact. It had reached awkward and beyond with all the C-bombs. “Kandi will escort you up. Please let her know if there is anything you should need.”
A dramatic thank you, drenched in a poor attempt at an unrecognizable accent, rolled off Phillip as he and Elizabeth made their way to the elevator.
“Okay,” Charlie cited, “you may be right. I don’t know what they’re up to, but it’s definitely suspicious. I guess we keep an eye on them and hope for the best. Can I count on you for that? I have my schedule blacked out for Mr. Davenport. He should be arriving any time. At least we know he isn’t fake anything. True blue, salt of the earth, bagillionaire — that’s a word.”
“Yeah. I got the Windsors. I have a feeling they’ll be a royal pain in the ass.” Cane chuckled as he made his way around the counter, headed for his office door. “Davenport sounds fake too. It’s too obvious. Aren’t all rich guys named Davenport?”
“Good one,” Charlie snickered. “I think he’s as real as they come, given the detailed website and such I found online. Maybe he’ll be my new sugar daddy.”
An ounce of jealousy threatened as Cane tossed Charlie a look of warning. She knew the drill — no men, dating, or even real friends beyond the walls of the hotel and casino where everyone had been thoroughly vetted and deemed safe by Cane himself. Until then, he was the only sugar daddy allowed in her circle, and he was light on the sugar compared to this Davenport guy coming in.
“Charlie—” he began.
“I know, I know,” she interrupted. “A girl can dream, though. Besides, money aside, I don’t think he’s my type. He’s some sort of techy computer genius. I can barely use a calculator, so he’s already out of the running.”
“Really?” Cane grinned. “What is your type then?”
Charlie’s gaze washed over Cane, head to toe. The fire in her eyes was enough answer Cane’s question, but in case there was any doubt, the slow stroke of her tongue across her top lip before biting down on her bottom lip told him the whole story. Then, she walked away with a sultry wink and a seductive sway to her hips that made Cane hum in places that were inappropriate in such a public setting.
He pushed through the door to his office and plopped in his chair, letting out a slow breath. When he didn’t see the report he’d been waiting for on Henry Davenport on his desk yet, he got lost in thought about Charlie. This was the part where his heart and mind warred. He couldn’t help how Charlie made him feel, and he hated that. Cane didn’t want to feel anything other than the need to keep her safe.
She was a client. Just a job. But when she made comments like she had about her well off client coming in, even if they were in jest, or men looked at her the way he looked at her, Cane wanted to tuck her away and keep her to himself. To protect her from everyone and everything — especially the one he was hiding her from, Anson Deveraux. The serial killer had been leaving what seemed like an intentional trail of bodies for Brother’s Keeper Security to follow for some time, but it recently stopped. The trail went cold, and hiding in Vegas — hiding in plain sight, surrounded by some of the most advanced technology that would serve as warning bells should Deveraux show up — didn’t seem safe enough anymore. There wasn’t a place on earth that would feel safe so long as that man was out there hunting. The hot trail was now a wild goose chase of endless false leads. They were being played.