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“Well, then, if I lose, I’ll be contributing to a good cause,” he said. “So, can we move the limits to $10,000?”
It was in Alessandra’s authority to raise the limits on the table. Normally, her gaming vice president Gavin would make that decision, who was more of an expert on the gaming side. Still, it was always within her authority to make the call, and she mulled over the math in her head.
Over the course of time, even if Beau initially won more with the higher bets, the odds would eventually favor the casino—that was obvious. His losses at these higher limits would help contribute even more to ensuring The Benson wouldn’t be sold.
“You’ve twisted my arm. Okay, we’ll raise them.”
At first, it seemed to Alessandra that she’d made a good decision. Beau went further into the hole, and Alessandra assumed she was going to add to her normal casino win by over one million dollars tonight. Sitting next to him, she was relaxed and decided to have a drink as they gambled.
Beau remained in a good mood—clearly, the one million loss was not a big deal to him. He placed his hand on her leg, rubbing it under the table. The touch of his hand on her thigh, even over her pants, made her warm.
Another half-hour passed, with both of them laughing. Beau made more jokes about Alessandra’s bonus increasing with every hand he lost. Alessandra protested that she wanted him to have fun, even if that meant the casino would lose.
For a good part of her, that was the truth. She was more herself with Beau, felt more connected to him than other men she’d met. He seemed to understand her. Given that he was losing, it was easy to focus on that part, rather than the need for profits to increase.
Then Beau started to win. And with the higher limits, his chip stack began to rebuild quickly. In half the time it took him to lose at $5,000 per hand, he was able to make back the money he had lost playing blackjack. Then, because he was on a winning streak, he kept playing. Within another hour, he had also made back what he had lost at the craps table.
A half-hour after that, he was still winning. Now he was in the black again, raking in money at a much higher limit than he’d lost at. Alessandra judged he was probably ahead by nearly one million. Of course, he was now in a truly buoyant mood, while Alessandra’s mood was sinking.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t let her emotions show. She had been telling him that whether he won or lost was no big deal. But now, the fact that he was winning by so much reminded her of the situation she was in. She’d thought The Benson could book a win for the night, but the exact opposite was happening.
She was relieved when Beau started to lose a bit more and decided to stop for the night. “Let’s celebrate my win!” he said, oblivious to her true feelings while leading her to the bar area in the high-limit room.
Her face had a wan smile when she ordered, “Vodka martini, straight up, with a twist.”
“Drinking away your sorrows because you’ll be missing out on that Christmas bonus, hey?” Beau joked.
“Indeed, I am,” she replied, downing half of her martini in one swallow.
“Whoa there! You keep drinking like that, and it’s going to be very easy to take advantage of you tonight. Which I owe you, since you took advantage of me last night, and then ditched me right after,” he said, grinning. His playful tone had the effect of making her want to kiss that grin right off his lips.
“And yet, you spanked me earlier. I think that was punishment enough.” Below her waist, Alessandra tingled at the thought of his hand slapping her right as she orgasmed. The small pain had added to the intensity of her release.
It was both perplexing and maddening that she was attracted to him, happy for him, yet disappointed at the same time. Damn it! It was terrible luck for the casino that he would go on a winning streak at the exact time he was allowed to double his bet. Logically, she knew that was how gambling worked—sure, the odds worked out over time. But sometimes in the short term, the cards advantaged only one side of the table.
Tonight, it had been the casino’s turn to have bad luck. Nevertheless, the martini’s warmth started to ease her worry about her job. It also helped remove her commitment to being all-business with Beau.
“Yes, you did deserve that punishment. And it was hard work to punish you like that. Very hard. A big sacrifice, for sure, yet one I would willingly make again,” Beau said, his playful smile turning more sexual, further igniting the slow burn inside her. Her anxiety about The Benson’s future fueled her want of him in this moment. She wanted to live in the now, without being troubled by thoughts of what would come in the new year.
“Oh, you’d make that sacrifice again? You’re not too tired after the green room? And after all that winning?” Alessandra asked, finishing her martini and looking him squarely in the eye.
Beau lowered his voice and dragged one of his fingers from the base of her spine up to the nape of her neck, under her hair. He whispered, “Earlier tonight, I thought you’d already decided against another round. I was proven wrong when you let me take you from behind, bent over the couch. Now you’re acting like you might want me again. Do you want me again, Alessandra? My dick inside you, my lips kissing you in places that make you moan?”
Alessandra more than wanted him. She needed his lips on hers, needed their bodies pressed together. Having sex with Beau Brooks wouldn’t stop the storm from coming to The Benson. But, for a little while, it could stop Alessandra from thinking about the potential end of her career as its CEO.
He was the only man in a long time who had the power to do that. “Go to your room and wait for me,” she breathed. “And by the time I get there, for Gods’ sake, you’d better be naked.”
Beau felt himself harden at Alessandra’s brazen tone. She was a powerful woman who, once she decided to be with him again, was shameless in her need. Maybe the vodka was helping, maybe she was even happy for his wins. Whatever the case, she’d returned to the sexy, wanting woman he’d encountered earlier in the night.
Getting into the elevator, a woman in a tight red dress joined Beau. She asked, “Winning tonight?”
Her suggestive look made it clear she was flirting. Her dress barely covered her ass and was cut low to show deep cleavage. In another time, Beau would have appreciated her curves and long legs. He might have said something like, “Depends on what you’re doing the rest of the night.”
Instead, wanting to shut down the interaction, he said, “Actually, yes. Just heading upstairs to meet my wife and celebrate.”
The lie had its intended impact. “Congratulations, then. Enjoy your evening,” the woman said, getting off on the next floor.
In his hotel room, Beau thought about his lie to the woman in the elevator. He could have said ‘girlfriend’ or even ‘friend,’ but instead, he used the term wife. Could a wife ever be part of his future? He had always believed the answer was no. He’d consistently committed never to put a woman he loved through what his father had done to his mom.
