Beauty and the Billionaire

"Well, they might both have a ways to go. That doesn't mean you won't get there. Sandi thinks you'll make it," Kev said.

"Excuse me, Ms. Allen? I'm a reporter for the Desert Post and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions," a slim young man asked. He fidgeted foot to foot but looked me straight in the eye.

Kev handed him a business card. "No problem, kid, as long as you send your article to me before publishing. I'll vet the quotes, dot the Ts, that kind of thing."

The young man smiled, unsure if Kev was serious or not. He took the card, and Kev shifted over a bar stool to give him room.

"I'm sorry, I'm not doing interviews if that's what you think this is," I said.

"Sure you are," Kev said. "Just answer the kid's questions. It’s not hard and, who knows, it might be good for Fenton."

"How long have you known Fenton Morris?" he asked.

"A few days," I said. It was hard to believe because it felt like much longer.

"Have you always been attracted to 'bad boys?’? Or was it Fenton that approached you."

"Fenton approached me first." I took a long sip of my drink to cover my smile.

"And, do you feel threatened by his womanizing ways, his drinking, or his violent tendencies?" the young man asked. He was concentrating on holding his phone at the right angle to record my answer and did not notice the look on my face.

"Those are all grossly exaggerated. Fenton Morris is a gentleman, an athlete, and a professional. You've got him all wrong and if you try to pursue this sensationalized direction any further, you will be getting close to slander," I said.

"So, you're saying everything the public knows about Fenton Morris is an act?"

"It’s a natural extension of what his fans want," Aldous said. He towered over the young reporter and frowned down at him. "As his long-time coach and advisor, I can assure you that everything Ms. Allen has said is the truth."

The reporter wanted to ask more, but I turned to Aldous. "Is this your wife?"

Aldous stepped in front of the reporter, effectively shutting him out from further conversation. "Tia, I would like you to meet Kya Allen. Kya, this is my lovely wife, Tia."

"It is so nice to meet you, Kya. I've heard a lot about you," Tia said. She was older, mid-forties, though it was impossible to tell from her flawless olive skin and shining black hair.

"You've heard about me?" I looked at Aldous. "I can't imagine what you must think of me."

"I think we have a lot in common," Tia said. She shooed Aldous over to talk with Kev and sat down next to me. "Aldous and I met when I was around your age. He was on the boxing circuit. I, believe it or not, was dating an accountant who tried to save himself from being boring by going to boxing matches."

"I don't think I can see Aldous having a wild streak, but I bet he was an amazing boxer," I said.

"Yes, very clean-cut and very fair. That's why he was never a fan favorite and also why he's such a great coach," Tia said. "He's been with Fenton so many years, they are starting to feel like family. So, when he mentioned that Fenton wants to settle here in Vegas for a while, I was overjoyed."

"You wouldn't mind moving?" I asked.

"Not at all. If it means I see my husband every night instead of a few weeknights here and there throughout the month," Tia said. "I should thank you for putting the idea in Fenton's head."

"Oh, I'm not sure it was me," I said. I looked across the room to where Fenton danced with three women.

"Give yourself some credit," Tia said. She patted my hand.

Even as I watched Fenton draped with women, my heart was buoyed up by the thought that meeting me had encouraged him to find a home base and try settling down. I clung to thought and nurtured it into a small spark of hope.

I held on to it all throughout the promotion party, even though Fenton never spoke to me. He only glanced my way a few times. I waited until I saw him leave the nightclub and then I took the very long way back to my suite at the Tropicana. My stomach was in knots as I approached the door, only to discover it was worse than I had imagined.

Fenton was gone. The second bedroom was completely packed up and a maid was stripping the sheets.

"Did he say where he was going?" I asked.

She shook her head. "But the porter said his stuff was going to the MGM Grand."