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Chapter One
“We’rescrewed,”AlessandraCarosaid to Sailor Ferraro, the best casino host Alessandra had worked with on the Las Vegas Strip. “Or rather, I’m screwed. You’ll still have a job, but I’ll be gone. Give me some more wine.” They were day-drinking on the patio of Alessandra’s office at The Benson Resort and Casino, her current, and most luxurious, position as the chief executive officer of the resort.
Sailor raised her eyebrows. “What did Wyatt say?”
“He was nice about it, but he said if December’s gaming revenue doesn’t end up higher than November, then they’re selling. Just business, not a reflection on me personally, he said. But I know there is no way new owners would keep me on. Plus, his private equity investors never really wanted to own a casino, anyway.”
“Our profits this year are higher than the last. We’re doing better,” Sailor protested, indignant. “I know they’re not in the black yet, but we’ve been growing revenue each quarter. ”
“Every quarter except this quarter, you mean,” Alessandra said. She had let herself down. When she opened The Benson two and a half years ago, she had ten years’ experience leading smaller resorts, and another ten years’ experience before that in marketing, hotel operations, and casino management.
She’d had used the opportunity to prove to herself and everyone else that she was smart and strategic, a long-term success—the opposite of her dad. Opening The Benson earned her a place in Las Vegas history—the first female president to open a new luxury resort with more than 7,000 rooms.
For the past two years, she devoted all her time and energy looking for ways to attract gamblers to the new resort. Gambling drove the business, and the hotel side didn’t even come close. And among the gamblers, the highest of the high-rollers were the most valuable. With Sailor’s help, Alessandra had lured many of these coveted customers from their preferred resort and into her luxurious, spacious high-limit rooms. In that exclusive location, a $10,000 bet per hand was considered cheap, a loss of one or two million wasn’t a big deal, and free massage therapists, gourmet meals, and model-quality cocktail servers kept the guests relaxed.
“Okay, let’s think. Maybe we can do it. How much more gambling than usual would we have to do this coming week?” Sailor asked. It was already December twenty-third, and the last week of December was typically slow until New Year’s Eve night.
“We’d literally have to double what we would normally expect for this week. It’s impossible,” Alessandra said, defeated. She was normally confident in her ability to fix any problem, but not this one. She watched, surprised that Sailor pulled out a calculator and started adding up numbers. “Sailor, we can’t do it. There’s no use trying. Don’t worry, I’m sure whoever the new owners are will keep you on.”
Sailor, however, had a determined look. This was her area of expertise. “We have to try. I don’t want a new boss; I want you. All we need is one of our whales—a big one—to lose around three million by December thirtieth. We’ll make plenty of money on New Year’s Eve, that’s a given. If we can get someone in between the twenty-sixth and the thirtieth, then we have a chance.”
“Sailor, your strategy ignores one big obstacle. There is no way we will get in the type of player we need. This is the week Magnum brings in the richest gamblers in the world for their Triple Diamond Slot blackjack and poker tournament. They pay for everything—tournament buy-ins, huge prize pool, food, the works. Literally every high-end guest will be there. I don’t see us luring any of them away for the pleasure of losing three million with us.”
Sailor looked at Alessandra. There had to be one whale they could get at The Benson. “Wait. There’s one person I know who won’t be going to Magnum. I hosted him a few times when I worked at the casinos in Atlantic City, and I know for a fact he never goes to any Magnum resorts anymore.”
Alessandra was curious. She knew almost every potential customer at The Benson. She had helped Sailor tempt them into trying The Benson with free play offers, chartered jets, and her own high-dollar tournaments. “Who?”
“Beauden Brooks.”
“Beau Brooks?” Alessandra asked, her mouth opening in surprise. “Absolutely not. Not him. Anyone but him. And didn’t Magnum ban him for cheating?” That wasn’t the reason Alessandra opposed, but she wasn’t going to tell Sailor that.
Sailor shook her head. “No, that was just a rumor… I think. I don’t think they banned him, either. I do know he doesn’t gamble there anymore. I hear he’s just arrogant; you know the type—professional gambler, has an opinion on everything, thinks he’s an expert just because he gambles a lot. He probably told them what they were doing wrong. He’s well-known for his criticism of resorts that aren’t operated well. Boss, you’re an expert at charming this sort. As soon as he meets you, he’ll open his wallet. They always want to impress you by winning. They love the challenge of ‘beating’ the famous lady CEO at The Benson.”
Alessandra knew that under normal circumstances, she could play the cat-and-mouse game, issue a subtle challenge by smiling sweetly and reminding a player that the ‘house always wins.’ The strategy always ended up with her super-rich customers—the men, more specifically—losing some of their wealth to The Benson’s bottom line.
But this wasn’t a normal circumstance, because Beau Brooks wasn’t just any gambler. Early in her career, he’d gotten Alessandra fired, then broke her heart, then took a first-class ticket back home to his rich mommy. Alessandra had never heard from him again, which was just as well, because he was an ass. And he was still a professional gambler, but now with a possible shady past at Magnum.
“Can’t you get someone else? Even the hint of a controversy surrounding a big money gambler could bring the Nevada Gaming Commission to our door. You know that, Sailor.”
Sailor put up her hands. “Boss, I don’t think we have much of a choice here. And there haven’t been any other controversies about him.”
Except one, twenty years ago,Alessandra thought. But Sailor was right. If she wanted to keep the best—and most prestigious—job she ever had, she’d need to put aside her hatred of Beau Brooks.
“Okay, see what you can do to get him here. Also, find out what you can about his history at the Magnum. Send the private jet, put him up in the Presidential suite, give him front-row tickets to River Flynn’s concert. And for God’s sake, make sure he’s got a few extra million to lose.”
Sailor smiled. “No problem, boss. Let’s go save The Benson… and your job.”
Beauden Brooks arrived at The Benson the day after Christmas, ready to gamble. The thought of another day alone during the holidays at his ranch in Montana had him in a bad mood. Beau’s mother had died ten years ago, and his brother Aaron was in Europe making the rounds at private poker games. Aaron had told Beau that coming home for Christmas would be ‘a distraction.’
Beau’s father, Redman, was now eighty years old and active in his Florida retirement community. He hadn’t wanted to brave Montana’s cold to visit. Beau would normally have gone to visit Redman in Florida; however, a big storm hit right before Christmas and had done damage to the ranch, and the repairs needed Beau’s attention.
Apparently, Aaron thought a phone call would also be a distraction. Beau hadn’t heard from him since the week prior, when he said he wasn’t coming. At least Redman had called on Christmas, even though Beau suspected it was done out of obligation, not because of any real sincerity.
“How come you didn’t invite Natasha over?” Redman had asked after finding out Beau was alone.
“We’re no longer together,” Beau answered. “I broke up with her for the same reason as all the others—she was too clingy and wanted more. You know I’m not a ‘more’ type of guy.” Natasha had been number six in a series of ten very short relationships over the past eighteen months.
“Your mother and I made it work. You need to give some of those women a chance—find someone who understands your profession, someone to live your life with,” Redman countered.
