The Billionaire's Gamble

The blow to the gut hits me again. I don’t have a job.

Most people don’t like their jobs, but I loved mine. My mind can’t even comprehend the fact that I lost it, let alone think about the fact that I’ll need to find another one. I pull myself out of downward dog, and start to fold my clothes, only to find something hard in the pocket of my pants. Fishing around, I find the poker chip. I had completely forgotten that I had put it in my pocket this morning. I don’t even really know why I did it, maybe because I was still so enamored of the fantasies I had—of the memories—that I didn’t want to be without it.

I’m having the strangest feeling—a combination of anger and longing. Everything that happened today happened because I met Nolan, and even though I’m pissed as hell about that, I still wish he were here. Whether I want him to just hold me or to fuck me senseless again, I’m not sure. I could talk to him. He left me his number so I could. I flip the chip and it lands with his number facing up. I flip it again to the same result. The part of me that’s longing wants to talk to him. I don’t know what good that would do, though. The damage is already done.

Tears unexpectedly flood my eyes again as the weight of everything hits me. I lost my job. I could have died. Anger comes quickly. One stupid night and I’ll be paying for it forever. How could this have happened? Furiously swiping at the unwelcome tears, I grab my phone off the nightstand and put in his number. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let him hear me cry, so I send him a text.

Does every girl you sleep with have their life ruined or is that just me?

I don’t know why I expect an immediate response, but I realize I do. I shouldn’t—it’s late and who knows what someone like him is doing right now. For all I know he could be in another Vegas hotel room having another sexy experience without the slightest consequence. I watch the screen hoping to see those little bubbles that show he’s typing, but they don’t come. Embarrassed by my own disappointment, I toss my phone across the bed. No matter how great a night it was, Dani, he’s not going to be at your beck and call. He has his own life. I rest my head against the headboard, closing my eyes and cursing my stupidity when my phone chimes. Then it chimes again.

I pounce across the bed and look at the screen. It’s him.

What happened?

Are you all right?

I don’t even have the time to type back to him because the phone is ringing in my hand, and it’s Nolan’s number. I answer, my voice soft. “Hello.”

“Dani.” His voice is flat and dark. “Are you all right?”

Am I? I don’t really know. “I guess so.”

“Tell me what happened.” A demand, and I don’t question the dark fury in his voice. I tell him what happened. I tell him about the paparazzi surrounding my house and the chase. The accident. Being fired. “Do you know which reporter it was who hit you?”

“I wish. I just know it was a guy in a black Escalade. He was gone when I got out of my car. He asked questions about us that I’d rather not repeat.”

There’s a sound that almost sounds like a growl. “I have a pretty good idea.”

“Who?”

“It sounds like Aaron Meyer,” he sighs. “He has a reputation as being of the most aggressive and vulgar paparazzi out there. Unfortunately, that makes him very popular with the gossip magazines.”

I tuck my knees into my chest. “Aggressive is one word for it.”

“But you’re okay? Nothing more than scratches?”

There’s relief in his voice and I’m angry with myself that I wondered whether he would care that something happened to me. He rescued me as a complete stranger. I know he’s a decent person, and I should have remembered that instead of letting my anger get the better of me. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Dani, I’m so sorry about this. I had no idea they would go after you like this. I’m used to being in the tabloids but they’ve never done something like this before.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it fucking isn’t,” he says, and I know that if Aaron Meyer and Nolan ever come face to face that Aaron had better run as fast as he can. “Where are you now?”

I laugh. “At my sister’s. She’s a little further outside Charleston than I am so I’m hoping it will take longer for them to find me here. I slept most of the day. Partly because I was exhausted and partly to avoid her husband. We don’t get along.”