Stripped Bare (Vegas Billionaire 1)

“Vegas?”

“Steph,” I warn. She hates that I strip, but there isn’t anything else I can do and make that kind of cash.

“Yeah, I’ll watch her, but you’re going to be safe, right? Don’t be fucking strange men and shit.”

“I promise. Thank you.”

We hang up and I know it’s a promise I’m going to break. Five thousand for having sex is a lot of money and worth it just this once if I can get us a new place and maybe do something different with my life.

2

Finn

Even in the daylight, the bright lights of Las Vegas bounce off the lush red of the Ferrari California T convertible that I’ve been wanting for the past few years, and now I’m finally taking the plunge. This is as close to a long-term commitment as I’m going to get. The salesman drones on, citing facts about the car that he thinks I don’t already know. I don’t even pretend to acknowledge that I’m listening to him when I open the driver’s side door and slide in, my body molding to the Italian leather. The seat and I fit each other like a glove. She’s perfect for me.

The salesman puts his hand on the side of the car, smearing his oily fingerprints all over the paint. I’m tempted to walk away or choose another color, but I want red. And I want this car. My eyes cast toward him, letting him know that I’m not impressed with his closeness. Glancing down quickly at the speedometer, it reads two miles. That’s enough to get it on and off the truck and into the storeroom.

“I’ll take it.” I open the door, effectively pushing him out of the way.

“Great, Mr. . . .”

“McCormick.” I hand him my business card and watch the recognition dawn on his face as he recognizes my name. He’s shocked, surprised and likely embarrassed. By all accounts he should’ve known who I was when I walked in, but he’s young and probably new and when he goes to speak to his manager, he’ll realize he should’ve been kissing my ass from the minute I walked in the door. And now, as much as he’s trying to hide it, the grin on his face speaks volumes. He’s calculating his commission on this sale.

“I’ll go start the paperwork, Mr. McCormick. It shouldn’t take too long to get approval from the bank.”

“Cash sale,” I tell him, turning away from him to focus on the car again. He stammers behind me before scampering away, the footsteps on the marble floor sounding more distant. My phone vibrates in my pocket. A quick look at the screen shows me it’s Brandy. She wants one of two things, neither of which I’m interested in providing her right now: sex and a commitment.

I’ve known her since college; we dated for about a year until I realized that I enjoyed being a bachelor far more than being a boyfriend. The shitty part is that Brandy is the twin sister of one of my best friends, Brady, and I knew better than to get involved with her. By the time I realized I had made a mistake, I was in too deep and she was head over heels in love.

“Mr. McCormick.” A large, thundering man comes barreling toward me, giving me hardly enough time to slip my phone back into my pocket before he’s thrusting his hand forward, leaving me no option but to shake it. As soon as he releases my hand, I’m pushing it into my pocket. “It’s a pleasure to do business with you. I have your contract right here.” He grips the papers as if he’s going to hold them hostage. I quickly survey the room and spot my sales guy in the corner looking at us sullenly.

I nod in his direction. “Why isn’t he handling my paperwork?” The manager looks over his shoulder and smirks.

“I’m the manager.”

I shrug, not caring. The kid did all the work and should get to close the deal. “And so that means you get the commission, I’m assuming?”

He laughs it off, hemming and hawing before finally answering me. “Of course Scott will get a portion.”

“Right.” In my line of business, I don’t cut corners and I give credit where it’s due. If one of my staff members has an idea for something that’s going to make one of our casinos run better, I listen and work to implement the change if it’s what’s best for the business. I have no respect for people who try to take what they didn’t earn.

“You know who I am, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

I lean over slightly so I can get another look at Scott. The kid looks pissed and upset. I don’t fucking blame him. Commission on a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car probably pays his tuition or rent for the year. This sale would be huge for him.