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She moued her counterfeit pout and opened the shower door before stepping inside in her gown. She watched me and began to tug down one strap but I stopped her.
I snorted in disbelief. “Absolutely not. Get the hell out of here right now.”
“Oh, Spencer, I don’t think you want me to do that.”
“Like hell I don’t! You’re certifiably insane, you know that?”
She sighed and leaned against the shower wall as if she wasn’t wearing a satin gown. “It’s coming back to you then,” she stated rather than asked.
I gulped. “I remember it all.”
She studied me with furrowed brows. “All of it?” she asked. I watched her. “Even the money?”
My heart quickened. “What money?”
“So...not all of it.”
She seemed to get some sort of sick thrill out of knowing this part of the night I couldn’t recall.
“What happened?” I asked her.
She began to laugh, cackle really, and escaped the shower. I jumped up and tossed a towel around my waist. I followed the wet trails of her dress all the way into the bedroom but couldn’t find her.
“Piper,” I called out, searching the room. “Piper!” I called again, scouring the closet, but she wasn’t there.
I ran from the room, sprinting down the hall to the top of the stairs and peered over the edge. “Piper!” I shouted down, but she didn’t answer.
I descended the stairs and inspected the living area as well as the kitchen. She was gone. I threw open the villa doors and scanned the balcony, but no Piper. I ran back through the living and practically tossed the front door off its hinge.
“Piper!” I yelled into the empty hall.
I stumbled back into the room and closed the door, resting my back against its flat surface. “Where in the…”
My hands began to tremble as a thought came to the forefront of my mind. Slowly, ever so slowly, I walked back through the living room, hesitating to step over the threshold of the balcony. My breaths deepened.
“Oh, please, God. Please, God,” I prayed under my breath as I reached the balustrade.
I placed both my hands on the edge and leaned over.
“Come on,” she whispered. “It’ll be fun.”
She dragged me by my tie to the gambling floor, the private floor just for whales.
“I’m too drunk to gamble, Piper. Besides, my head hurts like a mother,” I slurred.
“Shh,” she quieted into my left ear, “you’ll do fine.”
I followed her to the concierge and he stood when he saw me.
“Mister Blackwell, will we be joining a table tonight?”
“Yes, please,” I mumbled.
“Your account is up to date. Here is your card,” he said, offering me the digital readout of my winnings for the past year.
I’d won close to two million, hoping to add it to my total in Switzerland. My seed money. The money I would use to get away, to feel free...finally.
“This way to the baccarat tables,” he said, pointing me toward the left on the floor.
