“Just over two hundred thousand,” our accounts guy tells me. “Seems she may be a lucky charm,” he states, then turns, leaving my office.
Her player lost almost all of his hands, which with what her sister owes, is a significant amount to pay back. Mr. London only loses when he’s distracted. If you take away the womanly distractions, he will always win. But put them in his way, and we will win. We learned this earlier when he first started coming into the casino.
As I start to close everything down for the evening, in walks Sydney with a clipboard in hand and glasses on.
“Lucy is screaming for attention, and her sister seems to be asking Garry for information on you,” she says, looking up over the rim of her glasses.
“Give Lucy what she wants, and who cares, let Theadora dig. He won’t say anything.”
Sydney nods then turns to leave. “Should I collect the dress tomorrow?”
“No,” I say, looking up at Sydney.
“That’s a four-thousand-dollar dress, sir. Do you plan to make her pay that back too, or let her keep it to sell?”
“Does it matter to you, Sydney, what she does with it?”
Sydney wrinkles her nose. “No. Not at all. Goodnight, sir.” She walks out, shutting the door behind her.
I didn’t intend for Theadora to keep that dress, that was until I saw it on her. What kind of woman gets ready in fifteen minutes and walks out looking like she spent many hours on herself when I know damn well she didn’t?
A vixen, that’s what she is.
I’ve seen her dress down, and now I have seen her dress up. And I know what she likes. I may not know all her qualities, but I am sure she’s not like most other women.
Theadora has a temper, she’s feisty, and her eyes look at me as if she’s trying to work out my best-kept secrets. Well, unlucky for her, no one knows my secrets. Sometimes I wonder if even I do.
But I plan to keep it that way.
A devil doesn’t show his hand. He plays his cards until the winning hand is revealed.
I think she may be my favorite playing card yet.
And I plan to play every move possible when it comes to her.
Chapter Six
Theadora
“Keep the dress.” That’s what the driver guy said before he drove off.
Surely, Atlas should know I would try to sell the dress so I can add it to the money to pay him back and have him out of my life faster. So, I put the dress up for sale today for half the price, and the minute it was online my cell phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Selling that dress will not help you. It’s not your money I will accept as payment, Theadora. It’s a waste of time.” Atlas voice rings through, then he hangs up without another word.
Fuck!
How on earth could he have possibly known I placed it online for sale? And so quickly too.
Huffing, I took the post down. There was no point in selling it if he wouldn’t take my money.
Shit. I wonder what else he will make me do.
I am back at the office today, and Michelle asks me as she walks past, “Hey, it’s Marissa’s birthday Friday night. You still planning to come?”
Anything will be better than the last weekend I had.
“Yep.”
“Awesome. Marissa is bringing her brother. She said she plans to set you up, so word of warning.” Michelle smiles before ducking off.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, that’s the last thing I need right now—a man in my life—especially with everything I have going on.
I don’t even know when Atlas will call me. I haven’t seen him since Monday night, and apart from today’s call to tell me to pull the dress down, I don’t know his plans beyond that. Honestly, he can ask whatever. He could make me be a stripper at Marissa’s birthday party and I would say yes because I need him gone and for my sister to be safe.
My head tells me he isn’t that dangerous, but then I look at the fading bruise on my forehead and know otherwise.
He kidnapped me.
He could have killed me or done worse.
Even if he looks at me as if he’s trying to work me out, Atlas is anything but kind.
He’s silent.
Deadly.
Ruthless.
And way too handsome for his own good. Which is probably the reason women overlook his evil tendencies. Well, I have seen glimpses, and I know better than to trust him or believe he won’t kill me when he has no more use for me.
I was living in a world where evil wasn’t part of my life. I believed that even bad people could be good if you looked inside them hard enough.
What am I? Snow White?
Perhaps I’m wrong.
Maybe bad is bad.
And there’s no fixing that kind of evil.
“Well, holy shit, woman,” Marissa says as she walks into my office holding an exceptionally large vase of flowers.