“I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” I tell him.
He looks to his watch and frowns.
I don’t waste any more time as I run inside and start tearing off my clothes and going straight to that dress. It’s already laid out on my couch, so once I am naked, I slide it on over my body. A dress like this, that’s body-hugging and fits perfectly, does not require me to wear a bra, which might show straps, or even underwear, which will show lines. No, this dress requires nothing but a pair of heels. I borrowed a pair from work that are gold, matching the color of half of the dress. Untying my hair, I let it fall and twist half of it into a loose bun, pulling strands around my face to give it a waterfall effect before I switch to a black bag and walk toward the door. When I open it exactly fifteen minutes later, right at six o’clock, he looks up at me in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting me to be ready.
“Will you give me your name now? Or what shall I call you at this event?”
“You aren’t at this event to impress me. I want you to make my guys spend.” He holds open the limousine door, waving a hand impatiently for me to get in. When he slides in, he glowers, and I wonder what on earth has him so angry at me now. I am on time, just like he asked me to be.
“So, you’re like my pimp? You dress me and tell me what guys I should talk to?” I ask while screwing up my face.
As the limousine takes off, his hands come to his lap, and I watch as he screws them up in balls clenched so hard that they are turning red then white.
“It’s best you stay quiet,” he says, looking out the window.
What the hell ever! I huff and reach for my cell and lipstick. It’s the only thing I didn’t have time to apply. Turning on my camera so I can see, I apply it, turning my pale pink lips more of a blush color. Wiping the edges, I put both my cell and lipstick away, and when I do, I feel his gaze hard on me.
He asked me not to speak, so not speaking is what I will be doing.
My cell dings, and I smile at my co-worker’s message. It’s a picture of her eyes wide and a big fat smile on her face, with a caption that reads, ‘Computers are working again.’
Typing back a smiley face, I send her a selfie along with a thumbs up. Hitting send, I turn to see amber eyes trained on me. Remembering he doesn’t want me to speak, I raise an eyebrow at him.
With amused eyes, he studies me before the car comes to a stop and my door is opened for me. A hand is offered, but I don’t take it. For all I know, that hand could have been one of the ones that grabbed me to begin with. Touching my forehead where I know the bruise is located, I shake my head and stand waiting for him to get out.
A voice comes from behind me and says, “Atlas,” and nothing more. My eyebrows pinch together as I turn to look at him while he smooths out the wrinkles in his suit and does up the button on his jacket. With his lips in a thin line, he walks past me, leaving me standing there confused by his single word.
He turns back, noticing I haven’t moved, and offers me his elbow. “The name is Atlas.” His lips turn up in a wry smile. “But you can call me, sir, along with everyone else.”
I walk up to him and look at his offered elbow, then head off straight ahead, not taking it. “Shall we?”
He drops his arm and walks alongside me into the venue, which I know to be a local casino.
“She worked for you, didn’t she?” I ask in a hushed breath.
“She did,” Atlas answers truthfully.
I know because when Lucy got this job, she was excited and told me all about it. I had hopes she was getting on the straight and narrow. I guess I was wrong, and it seems about a lot of things lately.
“Sir, the room is ready, and players are set up.” A security guard stands in front of us.
Atlas looks down at me. “Push your tits up more.” He eyes them. “What you have anyway.” His nose scrunches up. “You have men to distract.” Then he’s gone, and I’m left standing with the security guard who looks down at my cleavage, then turns away.
Did that bastard just insult my tits?
“Follow me,” the security guard says.
My hands cup my breasts, and I do as he says, pushing them up as we walk through a door that leads to a kitchen, then through yet another door, which, once it’s opened, allows the sounds of music and laughter to drift through.
“That man is on Australia’s most wanted list, and he is our highest bidder tonight. Distract him enough to make sure he loses. Do whatever you need to. What he loses will be taken off your debt, so make it count,” the security guard states, then steps back out the door, shutting it behind him.
My hands clutch my purse with determination. If he is a big bidder, that means if I make him lose at least half of his winnings, it could be a huge chunk off what Lucy owes.
Eyeing him up and down, I notice he is round, very round. Everywhere. Wondering why he is wanted by authorities probably isn’t a smart move; I am better off not knowing. Looking around, there are another five men in the room totaling six, with two waitresses, and one other girl dressed like I am smiling at one man in particular, which isn’t the man I need to impress, thank God.
Walking to the bar where he’s seated, chips in hand, I tap the bar with my fingers as the bartender walks over.
“What can I get ya?”
“Just water, thanks.”
The bartender squints, then pours a glass of water, making it fancy with a few blocks of ice and a lemon wedge, then he leaves it on the counter before he walks away.
“Water? What’s your real motive?”
I turn, managing to keep my face smiling as I look at him. His hair, likely once dark, is faded and receding, brushed over to compensate for the loss of fullness. I look down to the floor and back to him, hoping my eyes portray innocence. Men love it when a woman is naive. It brings their macho genes into play, and they get to be the gods they think they are.
“My sister convinced me to come… said it would be thrilling,” I tell him with a bite of my bottom lip. I lean in closer. “Is it? Thrilling?”
He smirks as if he’s won the damn lottery. “It sure is, babe. Stick with me, and I’ll show you a good time.”
I brush him off. “I don’t want to be a pain. I mean… I don’t even know how to play.”
“You don’t need to know how to play, you just need to watch.”
I nod as he calls the bartender over. “Now, tell him what you really want to drink.”
“Vodka,” I reply.
The bartender nods and pours me a straight vodka over ice and hands it to me, which makes the man next to me smile.
“That’s more like it.”
I take a sip, and when I do, I realize it’s exactly what I had before. Water.
Looking up at the bartender, he taps his ear, then points to the camera above the bar.
Of course I can’t drink, because that would make it easier.
Round man, which is what I have decided to call him, touches my bare leg, and I have to remember to not throw him off and slap him for touching me.
“Stay close, babe, you may just be my good luck charm.”
Yeah, fucking right.
Everyone walks over to the tables and takes their seats. The round man makes sure I am right next to him as he starts playing. He begins with one thousand dollars, and I have to remember to keep my lips from opening and saying something at his disrespect for spending so much money on gambling. That money could be used on so many good things instead of going to a man who’s most definitely an asshole.