AllFreeNovel
Share Us
What the hell was she going to do?
How could she explain this to Ethan? She’d done exactly what he asked, but instead of playing it safe, she’d risked big. Risked big and lost big.
Now he was out his original two grand, and he was that much further from the ten thousand he needed for Julian. He was screwed, and now she was to blame.
She didn’t have any bets left to make, and Jesus sure as hell wasn’t going to come through with the cash. Apparently God didn’t grant miracles to those who gambled. Go figure.
Sam sat down on a leather stool near the door and let out a shaky sob. When she’d gotten to the hotel, she hadn’t thought anything could make this stupid messed-up vacation any worse. Then she’d met Ethan and suddenly things had seemed like they might go her way for once.
Now the universe was proving to her things could always get worse, and she was shit outta luck if she thought the scales might tip in her direction.
Depends on how high Jesus’s credit limit goes.
The older woman’s words came back, bouncing around in Sam’s mind like a bonus round in a pinball machine.
Credit.
A new knot formed in her throat as she rifled through her clutch and found her small travel wallet, her fingers trembling as she went through it to see what she’d brought with her.
Don’t do it, Sam, you don’t owe this guy anything. Her pragmatic mind scolded her for even contemplating what she was considering doing. You’ll regret it.
Probably.
She got to her feet and checked herself in the mirror, seeing how much of the makeup damage could be repaired. When she didn’t look as if she’d been stood up for the senior prom, she left the bathroom and made a beeline for the cashier counter.
“What can I do for you, baby?” People in Vegas loved the endearment baby for some reason.
Sam slapped down her Visa gold card—her emergency use only card—and shoved it towards the cashier.
“I need ten thousand dollars. Please.”
Oh you stupid, stupid woman, her inner voice sighed.
Stupid, maybe.
But she knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she had the burden of Ethan’s debt hanging over her head. She’d seen what Julian was capable of, and Ethan’s bruises had just been a warning. What would he do if Ethan didn’t come through?
Ethan had said he didn’t want her money. But he was going to get it anyway.
There were fourteen steps between the couch and the door of Sam’s hotel room. Ethan had memorized the number after he’d walked the same path over and over for an hour and a half.
He hadn’t wanted to go back to his own suite, especially not since Julian had proven how easy it was to get in. He didn’t want to be alone, and although he was by himself in the room, Sam’s presence lingered, making him feel less isolated. The sweater she’d worn on their first evening together was lying over the arm of the couch, and he’d stopped his pacing a few times to smell it.
She didn’t smell like the women he was used to, girls who preferred sickly sweet perfumes and vanilla-sugar body lotions. The smell of cookies got him half-erect some days because of the shit his costars piled on. But Sam had a more womanly smell, a blend of earthy and spicy he couldn’t get enough of. If the other girls in his life were cupcakes, Sam was tiramisu or some other bittersweet exotic dessert. Whatever she was, he loved the taste of her.
He continued to prowl the room, checking his watch again though mere minutes had passed. He’d told her to play it safe and had to remind himself it might take a little longer to bring in the kind of money he needed if she was placing small bets.
At least he knew she wasn’t going to run off with the cash like some other Samantha Harts he was acquainted with.
Ethan had just sat down when a keycard beeped in the door, sending him back to his feet. Sam came through, dumping her purse on the entry table and kicking off her shoes.
She wasn’t looking at him, but her mascara had been smeared. Ethan was a pro at spotting sullied makeup. Sometimes he had to stop mid-fuck in order for his costar to have her eyes or lips touched up, so he’d learned to see it and adjust it himself whenever possible. Saved time, and in his case a lot of unnecessary waiting to come.
But if Sam
’s makeup was in ruins, it had to be because she’d been crying.
And if she’d been crying…
