Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Working at the casino has always been a constant reminder for me that there are two worlds.
There’s one world for the rich and beautiful people and another for people like me.
An extra shift working the exclusive and, until today, elusive High Roller’s lounge should make me smile.
But it only reminds me of the gap between those two worlds and how tired I am until I see him.
A very successful-looking and clearly older man who has it all at his fingertips.
But no matter how much money he keeps winning, rather than looking pleased, he looks so…sad.
Sad inside, just like I feel.
Ethan
When my accountant’s investment pitch to sink money into another client’s casino fails to impress me, I can’t help but smell a rat.
But, with a penthouse suite for the weekend and a ton of complimentary chips, I figure I may as well stick around to enjoy myself and find out what my main money guy is really up to.
The High Rollers lounge, though…the ‘Pearl Room.’
How pretentious.
I soon realize just how quickly a ton of money can disappear in a place like this, but I’ll be damned if I can’t do anything except win tonight.
It all makes perfect sense when I see her.
And long before she says a word or helps me feel like the luckiest man alive, I just know that she’s mine.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
Krissy
An extra shift working at the casino should make me smile.
Think of the money, Kris. Rent is due, and you’re short again.
It should make me happy, getting an extra few hours of work. I could breathe easier, at least, but it doesn’t.
I’ve been on my feet for almost ten hours already, and all I want is a hot shower and my sofa bed.
“In the Pearl Room,” my supervisor, Denise, says slowly.
Using that stupid dramatic tone everyone around here does when they talk about the place where the real money gets won but usually lost.
And in amounts that make news headlines.
None of this penny and dollar slots business. Not even the crazies who gamble their life savings or house away on the craps tables are invited to the ‘Pearl’ Room.
“The Pearl Room…,” I echo back, trying to sound impressed, but my feet aren’t feeling it the same way my boss is.
She could be the boss from hell, but Denise is pretty easygoing, considering her responsibilities.
And if she’s coming to me to cover a shift in the Pearl Room, I know I’m her last hope.
I’m not exactly high roller room material, to be honest.
Short and thick-set with average looks. My chest size is the only thing I have in common with the regular girls who work upstairs.
But legs and an ass that can strut? Hair and face that matches the luxurious surroundings? No, not me, just average.
It’s like putting a plastic cup where fine china should be. And I’m the plastic cup.
“I just got off the phone with them,” Denise sighs.
“They need someone to fill in for a few hours. Just a few hours,” she clips, eyeing me up and down, creasing the side of her mouth with concern.
I feel my mouth hanging open, silent.
Fatigue after a long shift, plus no food in my belly, see me zoning out right about this time of day.
But the experienced, assertive part of me knows exactly how to deal with this.
I’m not gonna be suckered into filling in for someone else’s shift again. The last time I did it, the guy I covered for got paid for their shift, and I got nothing.
It messes with the payroll’s computerized ‘system,’ apparently. But all employees are encouraged to do their part.
For the guests. For the casino.
For someone else. And almost always for fucking free.
But not this time, no way. I’m sticking to my guns. No one can make me.
“Sure!” I hear myself chirp, forcing a smile while I scold myself internally.
“I could always use the extra hours,” I add, sounding like a diligent casino employee.
Nice one, Kris. No sleep and no shower. What happened to sticking to your guns?
My stomach says what my body’s really feeling, with a whale song groan that even my boss can hear over the digital sing-song sounds of the slots in the background.
What happened to dinner?
“I guess you’ll do,” Denise murmurs to herself. Then, checking her watch and slipping me a meal coupon for the employee’s cafeteria, she remarks that I’ll need some ‘sprucing up’ and some food in my belly if I’m going to be of any use.
“Excuse me?” I croak, already feeling the pressure to do my job and look the part as well.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes, Krissy,” Denise says impatiently, her head cocking to one side as she hears one of the dozens of buzzers and alarms that mean a machine is paying out or is out of coins. Or a hundred other things that need attention in a busy casino slots lounge.