Cocky Prince Page 9

  “I’m not. I’m just—The meeting didn’t go well.”

  Her eyebrows pull together in concern. “Your face is flushed.” She walks forward and sits, absently setting paperwork on my desk. “What happened? Blackwell again?”

  I rub my temples. “Among other things.”

  To say my brain is muddled would be an understatement. There’s Blackwell and my job, but somehow it’s taking a backseat to Adam’s lips.

  How much of the tension I’ve felt these last few months at work is because of Blackwell and the way he treats me, and how much of it comes from working with Adam? I thought I hated Adam because of our shared past. But maybe I never wanted to read into my feelings.

  Do I want him?

  I groan in frustration and Mira cocks her eyebrow.

  I can’t want Adam. He’s not as bad as I thought when he first started working at Blue, but he has no qualms about giving in to Blackwell and the Blue Stars. Which means I don’t really know Adam at all, because my suspicions about the Blue Stars aren’t good.

  “What am I going to do?” I mumble. In spite of my shitty boss, I actually like my job. I might not have appreciated the way he went about stopping me, but Adam was right. I’m going to get myself fired if I can’t keep my cool around Blackwell.

  Mira leans forward and crosses her arms on the desk. “We have a plan, Hayden. We’ve got dirt on Blackwell, or, at least, we will. You’re not the only person who’s suffered because of the way he runs Blue, and I’m not talking about our CEO being a prick to his employees. Gen’s near-rape, the suites we think he’s using to issue drugs and possibly conduct other illegal activities in-house—these are things that shouldn’t be going on anywhere, let alone be sanctioned by a mainstream casino. Blackwell is using the Blue as a front, and we’ll stop him.”

  Mira thinks my distress is entirely because of the CEO, when it’s more complicated than that. But she’s right about one thing. I need to remain focused on what we’re doing to clean up Blue. I’m not the only person who loves their job. Mira and Nessa have found their callings at Blue too. There’s no reason we can’t make this place safe for everyone.

  “You’re right. We’ve got our plan and we’ll push forward.” I give her a weak smile and scan the documents she brought in. “Was there something you wanted me to look at?”

  She sorts the paperwork. “These came in this afternoon. They’re the last two contracts you were expecting. They’re from All Out Burlesque and Bags o’ Fun.” She grins. “Bags o’ Fun, get it? The burlesque companies are hilarious.”

  I shake my head. “Yes, well, you can pass those along to William. Blackwell pulled me off the event.”

  She sighs. “Great. He has you do all the legwork, then hands it off to someone else? What’s his reasoning now?”

  “Apparently, he’s hiring the talent through a special account. It’s a loophole so he can bypass our department before they sign anything.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. But I have a feeling that if I figure it out, I’ll be one step closer to finding the suites.”

  Adam

  I stare at Paul and William in confusion. “I thought you wanted strippers.”

  Paul glances at William, who shrugs. “We do. And these are upscale strippers—some of the best chests in the business. Burlesque showcases sexy, high-style talent. They’re not simply performing striptease; they’re seducing. It’s classier. Blackwell believes they’ll make a nice addition to the suites. They’ll be here for the show anyway, and we want to look into recruiting a few of them.”

  William hands me a brochure of the burlesque dancers. “Make sure you’re at the meeting next week. Charm the ladies. If any of the dancers brings down the house, we want to make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

  I toss the pamphlet on my desk. “Throwing around a lot of money, aren’t you? The bonuses, paying my assistant what most low-level executives make. I want the success as much as anyone, but is it worth the expense?”

  Paul smiles devilishly. “Extremely. Based on the figures from phase one of the venture, we’ll more than make up for it in revenue earned.” He glances at William and nods toward the door.

  William stands and walks across the room. He closes the door, silencing the sound of voices and office activity on the other side.

  Paul crosses his legs. “Blackwell wouldn’t sanction the suites unless they were lucrative. And Bridget isn’t just an assistant. She’s going to be much more as soon as the Bliss suites are up and running. So stop with the pushback. It’s getting old. Or have you changed your mind about making a mint in bonuses by keeping your mouth shut? Did the ladies I sent you not treat you right? They said you showed them a good time. I assumed you were game for all that’s involved in Bliss. Was I wrong?”

  Paul and William watch me in silence. The last thing I want is to screw up the one thing capable of providing me quick financial freedom.

  “Of course not. I’ll attend the meetings with William—when I’m not interviewing the dozens of strippers and bodyguards you’ve sent my way. Because that’s my job, right? Hiring? Oh wait, I’m hospitality, not HR.”

  Paul gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Watch yourself, Cade. We need you to be a go-to man.”

  Not fifteen minutes ago I was lecturing Hayden about keeping her cool, and here I am blowing a golden opportunity. “Count me in. I’ll take care of it.”

  Paul and William leave, and I proceed to get my priorities straight. Seducing Hayden is not one of them. Though that didn’t seem to stop me in the boardroom. I don’t know what that was…too much abstinence. Jaeger is right; I’m not myself around her, which means I need to stay away from her.

  I’ve played a dangerous game where Hayden is concerned, which I’m only just beginning to realize. She’s not like other women, and neither is my reaction to her. I need to remember I’m at Blue Casino for one reason only. Originally, it was to please my father. Now, it’s to free myself from Cade Enterprises and the money I’ve depended on for too long.

  I check my calendar and the interviews Bridget scheduled for next week. There’s a conflict with the meeting Paul and William arranged with the burlesque dancers. Instead of emailing Bridget, I walk next door to talk about the conflict and see how she’s holding up in her new position.

  Only when I get there, I can’t see her through the swarm of men crowding her office.

  I knock loudly on the open door. “Is there a problem?” I ask, my patience in short supply this afternoon.

  Between losing my head and nearly kissing Hayden—at work, no less—and receiving a drilldown from my douchebag colleagues, I’m not in the mood for whatever this is.

  Bridget’s head pops up above the men leaning over her desk writing down what appear to be notes on business cards. “No, Adam. Everything’s fine.” She smiles, a touch of nervousness in her eyes.

  I enter, glaring at one of the men in my way, who gets the message and scurries out. “What’s going on?” Several others notice the look on my face, and quickly tuck their cards into Bridget’s outstretched hand.

  “Oh, this is nothing. I just wanted to make sure I have everyone’s information.”

  Bridget didn’t come from a corporate environment, but I figured she knew the basics about how an office runs. “You have their information. Contacts are located in the company directory and in your work email account.”

  She steps around her desk and the last of the men, except for one, file out of the room. “Oh, right, but these are their cell numbers. Just in case of an emergency.”

  “That’s right.” Paul hovers near her desk. He must have left my office and come straight here. “Anything comes up, particularly in regard to the special venture we have going on, we want everyone within reach. Bridget is seeing to it that she can get hold of us no matter where we are. Isn’t that right, Bridget?”

  She grins and lowers her eyes. “Yes, absolutely.”

  “Even the engineers?” I
ask skeptically.

  “Especially the engineers. The Bliss suites are high-tech.” Paul slaps me on the shoulder and saunters out of Bridget’s office.

  I watch him leave, then turn back to Bridget, who’s moved behind her computer. “Are they bothering you? Because if they are—”

  “Oh no.” Bridget looks up quickly, her expression sincere. “Everything’s fine. Really. They’ve been supportive.” She smiles and stacks the cards the men handed her, tucking them in a plastic box.

  Maybe I’m overreacting. I can’t say my actions have been the smartest this afternoon. But that’s just it. They’ve been primitive, instinctual. “Let me know if that ever changes.”

  “I’m sure it won’t. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

  Too welcoming. It’s almost as if the entire male workforce knows Bridget is a former stripper.

  What do I care if they do?

  I make my way back to my office and stop in the doorway. It’s half past four, but I turn and move down the hallway for the exit. I’m not in my right mind. Better to leave early and come back tomorrow with a clear head.

  My pace slows as I near Hayden’s office. I consider apologizing for what happened earlier.

  But I’ve never been one to look back. No need to start now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The following day, Bridget, Paul, William, and I make our way up to the infamous Bliss suites under construction.

  The hallway is filled with workers applying finishing touches, the emblems on their T-shirts unfamiliar. “We’re not using Sallee Construction?” I say. “I thought we had an agreement with them.”

  Paul pushes open a wide double door. “They were unavailable.”

  That doesn’t sound right. Lewis’s construction company has a long-standing relationship with Blue Casino. I make a mental note to give Lewis a call.

  The first thing that strikes me as we enter the suite is the sheer size of the space. Just seeing the floor plan didn’t prepare me. The main living area is at least three times the normal size of a luxury suite at Blue.

  Modern burnt-red sofas and chairs covered in thick plastic provide seating. The floors are a deep ebony hardwood with plush white area rugs that have been rolled off to the side. A ten-person oblong onyx glass dining table with a white base and acrylic chairs presides over the back of the room. The glass and chrome fixtures are also covered in plastic, the walls made of the same ebony hardwood as the flooring, creating a den-like feel.

  There was nothing like Bliss previously at Blue Casino. Only one suite at my father’s Club Tahoe resort comes close in terms of size and luxury, but the presidential room fails where Bliss succeeds in extravagance. And the presidential room at Club Tahoe runs several thousand dollars per night.

  There’s something wrong with the Bliss venture. For one, why the secrecy? The Bliss suites are nearly complete, and the casino hasn’t made a single mention of them to the public. The amount of money that went into their construction has to be astronomical. Any company footing that kind of bill would be gearing up promotion.

  “What are the suites for?” I say quietly, but Paul’s eyes dart my way, confirming he heard me.

  “Bridget,” he says. “Go see Eve. She’ll fill you in on the supplies we’ll need for the bedrooms.”

  Bridget nods and walks over to where Eve is talking to a contractor. After a brief greeting, Eve leads Bridget into one of the bedrooms.

  “Well?” I say, once the women are out of earshot.

  Paul glances at William and tilts his head to the construction manager. William walks over and takes up where Eve left off.

  “The Bliss suites are exclusive,” Paul finally says.

  I watch the workers, but my attention is on the slick manager who’s been dishing out crumbs of information on a venture I’m beginning to question. “Define exclusive. The suites are massive and well appointed. How do you expect to keep them filled?”

  “Each patron that wants in pays a premium for part ownership of the Bliss line of suites. Your family owns Club Tahoe. Think of it as a golf resort membership.”

  “Our members pay over a quarter of a million dollars for club and golf access, and then an annual fee on top of that.”

  Paul looks over, his gaze sharp. “Precisely.”

  I glance around the room. “Why would someone pay a quarter of a million for a penthouse they can rent for a few thousand a night?”

  “Bliss isn’t just a suite, it’s an experience. A seductive, top-of-the line experience for the pleasure-seeking connoisseur. There will be women, like those in the burlesque show, who will provide our members with…well, a taste of bliss, for lack of a better term. Whatever a member desires, we want to provide. At a premium cost, of course. Everyone who enters Bliss must be eighteen or over, and consenting. It’s in the contract members sign.”

  I think about this town: the gaming, the drugs, and the rich, debauched bastards I grew up around at Club Tahoe. I lost my virginity to the thirty-five-year-old wife of a billionaire. There’s a wide range of debauchery, the least of which includes drugs.

  I peer around. “What else besides access to prostitutes and gaming?”

  “That’s roughly it. Don’t worry. Everyone will be kept safe, partly because everything is in-house. That’s the beauty of Bliss. Membership is by invitation only and confidential, which was a requirement by the charter members.” He nods toward the tall windows that, at six foot two, I’d have to jump to see out of. “The celebrities don’t want paparazzi discovering their hideout. We’ll have bodyguards, which I’m assuming you have under control.”

  “I’ve spoken to two men on the list you sent me. Neither of them graduated from high school, but they have quite the background in private bodyguard service. One of the candidates is an ex-Marine.”

  Paul nods. “The bodyguards are a necessary precaution. One of many we put into place.” He points to the side of the room, past workers and covered furniture. “One of these doors leads to a password-protected elevator that will take people to a regular floor, as well as the ground level in case of an emergency. A member had a heart attack with the first luxury suites we designed. It was a challenge to get the guy to a regular room before the ambulance arrived.”

  I blink. “You’re joking. You risked some poor bastard’s life to hide his mistress?”

  Paul shrugs. “He paid for privacy. The guy survived. Barely. And in case you’re wondering, he was the first to enroll in Bliss 2.0. If we hadn’t handled the situation as well as we did, he wouldn’t have come back.”

  “Some people are masochists; that doesn’t make them the best judge of what’s good for them.”

  Paul tips his chin toward one of the bedrooms. I walk into the room and he closes the door behind us. “The casino isn’t in the business of worrying about what’s good for its patrons. I thought you were in, Cade? Which is it—bonuses and prestige, or are you looking for another job? And if you think you’re going to talk about the Bliss venture, you can think again. Blue Casino will nail your ass to the wall for slander.” My jaw tightens at the blatant threat. He thrusts his hands in the slacks of his suit, his shoulders taut. “Look, don’t try to go up against Blackwell. You don’t understand the connections he has. He’ll ruin you, and that’s if he’s feeling generous. Do you get my meaning?”

  “I don’t think I do. Are you threatening my life?” The glare I level at him has him flinching.

  He holds up a hand and the false smile returns. “Not me. And it doesn’t have to come to that, as long as you keep your mouth shut. But I need to know you’re all in.” He lets out a sigh. “Come on, Adam, we chose you because you’re smooth under pressure. No one knows who you are behind the cool façade you’ve got going. That kind of discretion is what we were looking for. You have the right temperament for the Bliss project.”

  I finally take in the bedroom. Few furnishings fill the space, but there’s a stripper pole at the foot of an oval mattress. The view into the bathroom reve
als a six-person hot tub and mirrors on every wall. “It’s a hundred percent consensual? No one gets hurt?”

  “Not unless they want to.” Paul crosses his hand over his chest. “Scout’s honor. And no one underage.”

  I heard him the first time. It doesn’t fill me with confidence that Paul felt the need to give me that reassurance.

  I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling. Another mirror up there as well, this one branded with the Bliss logo.

  Sex, gaming, drinking, and who knows what else. But what do I care? At least in this environment there’s someone monitoring to make sure people don’t get out of hand.

  Anyone who pays a quarter of a million for membership knows what he or she is getting into. I have to assume Blackwell’s found some loophole to keep everything on the up-and-up.

  I may live to regret the decision, but for now…

  “I’m in.”

  I rub my eyes under my reading glasses, the words on the computer blurring, but not because I’m tired. I can’t stop thinking about the blatant threat Paul made when he thought I might back out of the Bliss venture. I’d beat the shit out of him if he ever tried anything, and he knows that. This wasn’t about him. He was warning me about Blackwell and his connections.

  A feminine throat clears, and I look up. Hayden is standing in the doorway to my office, and just like that, my concern evaporates and a new tension builds.

  I rise and walk around my desk, leaning a hip against it and crossing my arms. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Usually, I’m the one tracking Hayden down. Purely for work purposes. And to gloat. Or goad. But hey, I’m keeping her alert. Wouldn’t want her to fall asleep on the job.

  Her eyes are fixed on my glasses. “I was just…When did you get glasses?”

  I pull off the black-rimmed reading glasses and toss them on my desk. “I’ve always had them. I don’t wear them all the time.”

  She huffs out a breath. “That’s just great,” she mumbles.