It was about time he handled this situation himself, and this time he wouldn’t withhold his identity. She wanted to talk to Liam Doyle? Well, she was about to get her wish.
If his business and his life had taught him anything, it was everyone had a price. You could buy anything with cold-hard cash. Even absolution.
He could tell she’d been attracted to him yesterday, even though their conversation had ended on a sour note. He’d seen her pupils and the way she wet her lips while flirting with him. If he had to, he’d use that attraction to his advantage.
Hell, he might even enjoy it.
He called Wade on the phone and told him to bring the redhead inside. As soon as he made the summons, all his blood seemed to rush to his crotch.
Well, damn.
When did his crotch develop a taste for confrontation?
Chapter Two
The doorman smiled at Kate, greeting her as she walked in with Wade. “Welcome to Vice.”
“Um, thanks.”
You don’t have to be nice to these people, she told herself. If you let down your guard, they’ll have you drunk at the roulette table before you know it.
Even still, when the guard held open the door for her, she thanked him. It was just in her nature. Yes, she might have channeled her inner badass for a while, but she’d always been a mild-mannered woman, the kind who said “excuse me” when she bumped into people. Life may have dealt her some shitty cards, but she’d always believed in being polite.
Shitty cards. Even her inner dialogue seemed rife with gambling metaphors. Just another reason New Horizons remained so important to her. She’d often felt used and undervalued, but the group had taught her that her father’s gambling addiction was not her fault. She’d learned those lessons so well she’d been given her own group to lead.
New Horizons wasn’t run by doctors or psychologists. It had begun as a grassroots collective who shared tragic circumstances. As her mentor had once explained, all one really needed to help others was empathy. For people such as herself, Kate had loads of empathy and advice.
Even if she had trouble putting it into practice herself.
However, since she’d turned her anger toward the unlikely target of Liam Doyle, she felt she had a new purpose in life. A way to make amends. She might not be able to fix her own life, but she could help Lisa and others like her. At the very least, it was a way to strike back at the addiction that had razed her family.
As she walked with Wade, she wondered about the man who’d talked to her at the end of the day yesterday. The amazingly-edible man who’d made her doubt her own senses. He’d warned her off in a deep voice that had scared her a little, but made her want to draw nearer. That man was the closest thing she’d ever seen to a living, breathing orgasm. She wondered what he did in the casino. Would she see him inside?
It was best to forget him. She didn’t care for men who had the whole pompous, Alpha male thing down to a fine art anyway. The sort who looked as if they’d turn you over their knee before relinquishing the slightest bit of control.
She followed the security guard into the casino, shaking her head and trying not to gawk. However, it was hard not to. She’d been in a lot of casinos, but only the old ones on Fremont Street. Her dad had dragged her along many times when she was a kid, desperate for a fix and unable to wait for her mom to come home. He’d tuck her into a chair at the slot next to him and proceed to ignore her for hours while she sucked back second-hand smoke.
She’d seen things no kid should see, and had spent every waking moment since trying not to fix her gaze on the inside of a casino. No easy task in Las Vegas.
Vice seemed nothing like her memories of those old, smoke-filled casinos. Oh, there was smoke. It wafted over their heads like a second hazy ceiling. Allergic to the smell, she coughed into her hands a couple of times, but it did little to dispel the feeling she was slowly choking.
Ignoring the painful prickle in her throat, she looked around the immense room. Black-tinted windows and an absence of clocks gave a sense of time standing still. Soft LED light displays flashed everywhere, bright but never gaudy, guiding the unfortunate to their next sin. Well-dressed men and women flirted over their fancy cocktails.
She wasn’t sure what was prettier, the people or the drinks. Wonderful aromas teased her from various corners of the cavernous space, temporarily dispelling the smell of smoke, and she spied the names of some of the city’s best restaurants over various doors.
Plush chairs and couches littered the rooms, tempting people to sit and spend money on more things they couldn’t afford. Expensive artwork hung on every wall, and gorgeous bronze sculptures of nude goddesses were perched on several pedestals in the lobby. She eyed one of the sculptures, raising her brows at the artfully-upturned nipples of Venus.
It was beautiful in a decadent sort of way. She struggled to keep up with the security guard, almost losing her way around a couple of corners. Clearly designed to make one meander, a gambler could spend hours in the facility and never see it all.
Despite the sense of titillation it created, it remained her version of hell.
It felt like hours before they made it to a private elevator. She snatched a grateful breath as they escaped the smoke. The guard swiped a couple of cards to give him clearance, and pressed the number 4 button.
Kate didn’t say anything, suddenly feeling out of her league, and just stared at the polished elevator door. As the automated voice announced each floor with the alluring finesse of a phone-sex operator, Kate felt perspiration gather on her upper lip. With a discreet hand, she wiped it off.
It was no secret Liam Doyle was a very rich man. Richer than she could ever hope to be. Little was known about his early life, but he was regarded as a wunderkind, the Mark Zuckerberg of gaming. Not that she made a point of reading about him, his name was just that hard to avoid.
He probably came from money and had everything handed to him on a silver platter. No doubt his attitude matched his trust fund. He probably sprinkled caviar on his corn flakes. And here she was, the first person in her working-class family to go to college. What on earth would she say to the wily entrepreneur? Uh, hey, Mr. Casino Owner. How about closing up shop?
Yeah, that would go over well.
No, she would simply impart to him, in a reasonable manner, how establishments such as his exploited the weaknesses of others. As a leading member of the gaming community in the gambling capital of the world, he had a responsibility to those left behind. People like Lisa. People like herself. What was he doing for them?
When the elevator opened, she expected her escort to show her into a stuffy waiting room and leave her there alone to sweat for a few hours. However, the door opened into an open-concept office that seemed to take up a whole floor. With its professional kitchen area, fireplace and cozy leather couches, it resembled a grandiose loft more than an office. Did Doyle live here too?
Beyond the large office, she spied a few closed doors, no doubt leading to the private chambers where he seduced young maidens. She stifled a snort as she imagined cold, stone torture chambers behind those doors, with racks and whips and other such implements.
For God’s sake, you sound delirious now.
Wade showed her to one of the couches and motioned for her to sit. Eyeing the expensive Italian leather, she chose to stand. Warriors of old preferred to hold the high ground, and so would she.
“Fine,” Wade grunted. “I’ll get Mr. Doyle. Please wait here.” She watched as he escaped behind a door, shutting it behind him. He came back a moment later, threw her a look, and left in the elevator.