ALEXA LAWSON STEPPED OUT of the plate glass elevator onto her casino floor. While her uncle was out of the country on business she was the head bitch in charge at Halcyon, the newest and hottest den of decadence in Las Vegas. She was known in town for running all three of her uncle’s casinos, but this one was her baby because she’d designed it on her own.
Halcyon was the only casino in Vegas with a true woman’s touch. Twinkling fairy lights draped sensuously from the ceiling like long ropes of iridescent pearls, their reflection dancing across the lavish white marble floors. Gold finishes and furniture glittered like starbursts under brushed-brass chandeliers, and luscious greenery with exotic cream and peach blooms burst from the walls as reminders of the earthly pleasures one could find when people lost their inhibitions.
Designed after a wedding Alexa had been to in Athens, the casino was old-world romance with a touch of new-world naughtiness.
On her way out the door for the day, she snagged a chocolate-covered fig from the tray of a passing waiter. Wearing nothing but a pair of beige linen pants and a leather wristband with Halcyon embroidered in gold on it, this new waiter with his chiseled abs was a customer favorite.
His name tag read Apollo, but she doubted that was his real name.
“I see you’re taking the casino’s theme seriously,” Alexa told him. She glanced down at the tag hanging from the gold chain around his muscled neck and back up again to his sexy grin.
“Yes, ma’am,” Apollo returned, giving her a jovial wink that made her smile.
“Are you flirting with your employees?” a familiar voice said from behind her. His voice was deep with just a little grit in it, like a rich and chalky cabernet sauvignon.
Her best friend, Carter Hayes, appeared beside her looking supremely amused.
She thanked the waiter and he left to spread the wonder that was his abdominal region to the paying customers.
“Hey there, darling,” she said, biting into the fig. She met Carter’s eyes as she caught a smear of chocolate in the corner of her mouth with her tongue. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
He shook his head at her deliberate provocation. Teasing him was one of her favorite pastimes. He could be so uptight. It was one of her responsibilities as best friend to make sure he lightened up sometimes.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn chino pants, he frowned. “We should talk somewhere else.”
“Is that so?” she asked. She took another bite of the fig, letting her lips linger on it just a moment longer than required. “Sounds important.”
A corner of his full mouth quirked. “You know you’re turning me on, right? I’m not made of stone.”
She laughed. “Trust me, I know.” One of her girlfriends had bragged to her only days ago about how much of a real live man he was. She’d stopped Maggie before she shared any real details, but it had been enough.
Carter plucked the fig out of her fingers and popped the rest of it in his mouth before she could torment him with it again. His strong jaw chewed, the muscles methodically clenching and unclenching, his eyes on hers. Then he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his tanned, corded throat. He’d been her nerdy, shy neighbor who’d once asked her out with a “check YES or NO” note, but he’d all of a sudden grown up into one of the richest people in Las Vegas as well as its most eligible bachelor.
“Was it good for you?” she asked, her eyes sliding to the fig stem in his hands.
“Always,” he told her with a wink.
Shaking her head, she started walking toward the elevators. It wasn’t unusual for Carter to show up at one of her casinos. He’d created a facial recognition software that took pictures of customers and then matched them to a database to make sure dealers and customers weren’t working together to win money from casinos. It did a lot of other stuff, too, but that was the part she understood. It had been over a decade since he’d done the grunt work of programming software, but his right arm had a sleeve of binary code tattoos to remind everyone how he’d built his fortune.
Inside the elevator, she stuck in her key card to go to her private office floor.
“I see you’re wearing my favorite hoodie today.” When he was out with other girls he wore bespoke three-piece Savile Row suits that hugged his broad shoulders and cost more than a down payment on a house, but she didn’t warrant that kind of effort apparently.
He looked down at his navy blue sweatshirt. “You have a favorite?”
“Of course. That one brings out your eyes.”
He laughed. “Whatever you say, Alexa.”
“I pay attention, Carter. You give me far too little credit.”
He crossed his thick arms over his chest and raised a judgmental sandy brown eyebrow that winged up over the top of his round tortoiseshell glasses. “You haven’t returned a single text I’ve sent you in the past three weeks. The only reason I know you’re alive is because of social media. The photo montage of your current dating spree is impressive even for you.”
“Now, Carter, let’s not argue,” she appealed, giving him a jovial pat on the shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your texts, but I am running three casinos in Uncle John’s absence, you know.”
“And playing just as hard, apparently.”
Alexa shrugged again. “It’s Vegas. I have a reputation to maintain. Besides, at least I haven’t chosen any of your friends to sleep with. That’s a little close to home, don’t you think?”
He had the decency to look embarrassed. “I didn’t know you and Maggie were friends until afterward.”
“For a man so interested in my social media presence, it would have only taken a quick search to find out.” She should keep her mouth shut. It wasn’t any of her business who he slept with. It wasn’t like she was scrolling through his follower list before she slept with someone.
The elevator dinged open and they stepped out onto her floor. They suspended their conversation until they reached her office. She loved what she thought of as her sanctuary in the middle of the chaos. Sprays of cream roses, peach peonies and blue hydrangeas graced her desk and sitting area, while ivory velvet curtains framed the large window overlooking the Vegas Strip.
“Dinner?” she asked, making them both dirty martinis at her minibar.
“Mexican?” he suggested.
She recited their orders to her assistant over the phone, then handed him a drink.
She took a seat on the white velvet sofa next to him. “I see you haven’t brought me a gift, so I hope the news you’re intending to share with me isn’t too bad.”
He pulled a small package out of his sweatshirt pocket and she blew out a breath. She didn’t want bad news when she’d been having such a good day.
“There are two