All In Page 3

  “Vesper!”

  Sighing at the interruption, she turned toward the door of the supply cage. The voice belonged to James, one of the Valhalla hosts. They all looked as though they’d been cut from the same mold—male, gray suit, tasteful tie, slicked-back hair. His was dirty blond streaked with gray.

  “Hi, James.”

  “You’re wrapping up, right?”

  “That’s right.” He undoubtedly wanted something from her. She could always say no, of course, but she probably wouldn’t, and he knew it. Every host at Valhalla routinely exploited her ambition.

  “I need a favor. My guy Hamilton has taken it into his head to stop losing at craps and buy into the main event.”

  Everyone at the casino knew about Theodore Hamilton Sr. A partner at a private equity firm in New York City, he often came to Vegas on weekends to test his luck. Vesper glanced at her watch. The Texas hold ’em tournament was slated to begin at noon, just under an hour away. “Is he any good?”

  “Who gives a shit!” James smoothed his hair with one hand. “I hope he loses it all on the first hand and gets back to rolling the bones. But in case he doesn’t, I need you to keep an eye on his kid, Teddy.”

  Vesper was too exhausted to curb her disdain. “Who brings a minor to a casino without someone to look after him?”

  “They were supposed to golf. The heat wave got in the way, and the nanny he hired can’t be reached.”

  The nanny had probably gone AWOL because the kid was a spoiled brat. How could he not be? She had grown up among wealthy, entitled children, and with one exception, they had all been rotten eggs. The back of her neck prickled at the thought, and she firmly closed the mental door on those memories.

  “C’mon,” James said. “It won’t be so bad. He’ll probably just want to play video games all day.”

  “Then why don’t you do it?”

  “I’m due at the airport.”

  Vesper rolled her eyes. “Bull. You’re jumping ship because your guy stopped firing it up at the table.”

  James didn’t even bother trying to deny it. “Okay, look. If you do this, I’ll throw in a reservation for two at Barri.”

  She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, considering. The promise of a meal at Valhalla’s most exclusive restaurant would have been more tempting if she had any dating prospects, but James was clearly desperate, and she liked the idea of him being in her debt.

  “Fine.”

  Relief washed across his face. “Yes. Perfect. Thank you. You’re my girl!”

  Vesper favored him with her best withering glance, and James quickly turned away. As they caught an elevator, she realized she was finally about to see one of the fabled Asgard suites—Valhalla’s second most luxurious style of room. The only better accommodations were the Celestial Palaces, reserved for the highest of high rollers—the aptly named “whales.” High rollers wagered thousands on a blackjack hand or a roll of the dice. But whales put down tens or hundreds of thousands on single bets and could win or lose millions within a matter of hours.

  The Hamiltons’ suite boasted sky blue walls, white trim, and lofty ceilings that made it feel even larger than it was. The foyer ended in an alcove with a window seat and a view of the Las Vegas Strip. To the left, three bedrooms branched off a corridor illuminated by vaguely Teutonic-looking wall sconces. James led her to the right, into a spacious kitchen complete with an island, its chrome appliances gleaming in the overhead lights. Vesper caught a glimpse of the dining room—its long, dark table standing out against walls the color of a rosy sunset—before they turned again.

  This room was less formal than the others. A stone fireplace was set into one wood-paneled wall, a sheepskin rug lying before it. Two leather couches and a love seat were arranged to take advantage of both the fireplace and of the large television hanging on the perpendicular wall. Vesper paused in the doorway to observe its sole occupant. Theodore Hamilton Jr. lounged on the couch watching the Dodgers game and drinking a thick, vaguely chocolate-colored drink that she guessed was some kind of protein shake. Despite his choice in beverage, he was thin and lanky. Designer jeans rode low on his hips, and the sleeves of his polo shirt fit loosely around his arms. But when he turned to face them, she saw he had inherited his father’s strong jaw and brilliant green eyes. They narrowed in clear displeasure as he inspected them.

  “Teddy, my man!” James sauntered over to the couch and stuck out his hand. For a moment, it looked like the kid would leave him hanging. Finally, he reached out for a perfunctory shake.

  “Hi.”

  “There’s someone I want you to meet. Vesper Blake, Teddy Hamilton. Teddy, Vesper will be spending the afternoon with you.”

  “You mean she’ll be babysitting me.”

  James laughed nervously. “Did I say that?” He edged toward the door. “You guys have a great time.”

  Teddy’s gaze moved to Vesper. She watched him look her over and caught the flare of attraction in his eyes before he deliberately turned back to the television. “Make yourself at home, I guess,” he said, sounding utterly bored.

  Vesper remained standing, mind racing as she vacillated between two choices. Teddy was clearly bitter about being left behind while his father took in the poker action. He was also stubbornly faking his disinterest in her. She could either take a seat on the couch and passively watch him for the rest of the day, or she could step up and practice her hosting skills on him. He came from a wealthy gambling family. Maybe if she took the initiative to show him a good time, she would be rewarded. He might not be able to wager thousands on one spin of the wheel, but one day, that would change. And when it did, he might just remember her.

  She had nothing to lose and everything to gain—a rare event in her world. Suddenly determined, she stepped into his line of sight. “All right, TJ. What would you most like to do right now?”

  He frowned up at her in clear confusion. “TJ?”

  “Honestly, I think ‘TJ’ suits you better than ‘Teddy.’ But if you don’t like it, I apologize.”

  “Don’t.” He sat up straight and turned toward her, his expression thoughtful—as though he had never considered that he was in charge of his own name. “I do like it.”

  “Well then, TJ, you still haven’t answered my question. What would you most like to do?”

  “Watch my dad play poker.”

  Vesper wasn’t going to dignify that with a response. She arched one eyebrow and waited him out while rapidly considering and discarding possibilities. She couldn’t bring him onto the casino floor, and no live footage of the WSOP tournament was broadcast in the casino for obvious reasons. There was no way he could watch his father try to survive day one of the main event.

  After a brief staring contest, he looked away. “Yeah, I know. I can’t.”

  The seed of an idea opened in her mind. “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen.”

  She gave him a look.

  He bristled. “What? Do you want to see my ID? I turned eighteen last month!”

  She held up one hand as he reached for his wallet. “I believe you. Do you play any poker?”

  He snorted. “All the time at school.”

  Now that she had his full attention, she perched on the edge of the couch. A bit of subtle flattery seemed in order. “College?”

  He shook his head. “Boarding school. I’m entering Dartmouth this coming fall.”

  Vesper played a hunch. “Did your dad go there, too?”

  A flash of surprise crossed his face. “How’d you know?”

  “Lucky guess.” She pretended to be momentarily interested in the ball game to give herself time to think. The kid had a serious case of hero worship for his father, and she fleetingly wondered what that must feel like before forcing herself to focus. He couldn’t go into the casino, but what if she brought the casino to him?

  “Next question. What’s your favorite food?”

  “Buffalo wings. Why?”

  “Mild? Medium? Spicy?”


  “Medium. What are you—”

  “And to drink?”

  “IPA. The hoppier the better.”

  Vesper laughed. “Root beer it is.”

  “Root beer?” The words dripped scorn.

  “You’re going to have to trust me, TJ.” She stood and moved toward the door. “I need to make a few phone calls. Enjoy the game for a bit.”

  “Sure.” Clearly disappointed, he turned back to the television. He probably thought she was blowing him off.

  Vesper turned into the dining room and caught sight of her own bemused smile in the large gilt mirror hanging on one wall. Teddy craved the privileges of full adulthood, and on the one hand, she couldn’t blame him. But on the other…when she was his age, she had already been living on her own for a year. Adulthood came with far more headaches than perks.

  And then she shook her head at her own thoughts. By the looks of things, Teddy had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He probably had a trust fund already valued at more money than Vesper would ever make in her life. But if she played her cards right today, when he came of age and began to gamble with that money, he would take his chances at Valhalla.

  She pulled out a chair at the highly polished mahogany table. The first call she made was to the cashier. The second was to the concierge. And the third was to the closest thing to a friend she had at the casino—Isabella Martin, one of Valhalla’s Hospitality Managers. For this plan to work, she needed a few more people, and Isabella managed plenty.

  Once she was finished, Vesper went into the kitchen and pulled out a stack of plates and several glasses from the cabinets. The sounds must have triggered Teddy’s curiosity, because he appeared in the doorway a few moments later.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Preparing.” Vesper wanted to ramp up the suspense as much as possible.

  “For?”

  “You’ll have to wai—” She was rescued by the door chime. “Ah. Here we are.” Vesper strode toward the door, Teddy trailing behind her like a puppy. She opened it to reveal one of the cashiers holding a small lockbox.

  “Vesper,” he said as she took it off his hands. “Hello, Mr. Hamilton.”

  “Thank you, Michael.”

  “Don’t forget about these.” With a flourish, Michael produced two fresh decks of cards from the pockets of his blazer.

  “Grab those for me, TJ, will you?” Vesper let the door close behind them and returned to the dining room. This time, Teddy was practically snapping at her heels.

  “What are we playing?”

  Vesper set the box down on the table and reached up to her neck where a long gold chain held two small keys. She looped the chain over her head, selected the larger of the two, and slotted it into the box. Pausing to glance up at Teddy, she saw that he was completely riveted. Slowly, she raised the lid to reveal several pristine rows of white, red, blue, and green chips.

  An eager smile lit up his face. “Poker?”

  “This is a thousand dollars’ worth of chips. They’re on me. A few of my coworkers will arrive in a few minutes, and then we’ll play. Five-dollar, ten-dollar blinds. Fifty-dollar maximum raise.”

  “Excellent.” Teddy slid into one of the chairs and cracked his knuckles.

  “We’ll play like the final table of the main event—until one person takes it all.”

  He frowned. “But I can’t cash these out.”

  “No. But your dad can.”

  “Right.” His eyes gleamed in excitement, and he leaned forward eagerly as she began to shuffle the cards.

  By the time Vesper heard the door open six hours later, the dining table was littered with empty bottles of root beer and plates piled high with picked-clean chicken wings. She laid her cards on the table and watched Teddy’s focused expression shift into one of anticipation. He had managed to eliminate both of Vesper’s coworkers and was in the lead by about two hundred dollars.

  “Well, well.” Theodore Senior surveyed them from the threshold, the corners of his mouth twitching. “What have we here?”

  “Dad, Vesper. Vesper, Dad.” Teddy, flush with excitement over his pile of chips, spoke quickly. “We had two other players, but I knocked them out. How’d you do? And you gotta try these wings.”

  Theodore sat and proceeded to regale them with the story of how he had played well early on but managed to lose it all trying to bluff the previous year’s WSOP champion. Teddy listened avidly, and then began to share the story of one of the more exciting hands he had played. But his father cut him off.

  “How did this”―his gesture encompassed the table—“all come about? And where is James?”

  Teddy shrugged. “He left.”

  When Theodore’s face creased in a deep frown, Vesper felt a surge of satisfaction. James was in the doghouse, exactly where he belonged. “James asked me to look after TJ while he was otherwise engaged,” she said smoothly.

  “TJ?”

  “I like it, Dad.”

  “I see.” As Theodore inspected her, she forced herself to meet his intent gaze. “And this was your idea?”

  “Yes. TJ wanted to watch you at the tournament. I thought this would be the next best thing.”

  “Speaking of which,” Teddy said, “Can we get back to it? I have a few hundred more dollars to win.”

  “She doesn’t seem like the type to give up easily, son.” Theodore glanced between them before reaching for the cards. “I’ll play the role of dealer for the rest of the night. Let’s hope you don’t take after your old man.”

  The illuminated sign at the airport entrance snapped Vesper out of the memory. Her gambit that night had paid off much sooner than she had believed possible. Theodore Senior had fired James immediately and claimed Vesper as his new host, essentially forcing Valhalla to promote her. Then, he had proceeded to recommend her to all of his “Dartmouth contacts.”

  That was how he explained it. But the men who called her—and they were all men—varied widely in age, so Vesper knew he couldn’t have actually attended college with all of them. She hadn’t asked any questions, and they hadn’t volunteered any answers. After a few months, he had rewarded her discretion by explaining that he was the president of the Board of Trustees of the Sphinx, a male-only secret society at Dartmouth. She had looked up the organization online, but learned little more than what he had told her. It was all very clandestine, but one thing was clear: the brothers of the Sphinx were good at making money.

  Reflecting back on that first meeting made Vesper feel oddly nostalgic. TJ had seemed so very young. In the years since, he had grown in both stature and character, though thankfully, he hadn’t completely abandoned the enthusiasm she’d found so endearing. In just a few days, he would celebrate his twenty-first birthday at Valhalla with several of his closest friends. Vesper hadn’t been lying when she’d said she was honored that he had chosen the resort to host his celebration, but she also had a selfish motive. Many of TJ’s friends would become high rollers themselves someday—if they weren’t already. The party would serve as her calling card.

  As the terminal came into view, she leaned forward to inspect her appearance in the small mirror. Subtle makeup eliminated the shadows beneath her eyes, and her lip gloss enhanced the natural rosiness of her lips. Her pale green dress revealed the curve of her collarbone and the tan expanse of skin below her throat without exposing any cleavage. There weren’t many female hosts in Vegas, but most of them flaunted their bodies almost to the same degree as the escorts their clients often demanded. Some even crossed that line, offering themselves up as part of the casino’s comp package. The thought put a sour taste in Vesper’s mouth. Even if she were attracted to men, she would never allow that to happen. She wanted her clients to see her as a professional, not as an object. So far, her plan was working well. Over the past three years, she’d only had to fend off a few overtures.

  Jeremy pulled into the limousine parking area and was out his door fast enough to open hers. She shook her head at hi
m and smiled as she stepped onto the pavement. As they walked toward baggage claim, they chatted idly about the upcoming poker tournament and how busy Valhalla was about to become. Once inside, Jeremy took up a position near the proper carousel, the placard emblazoned with Hamilton Family hanging limply at his side. He had brought it out of habit, she suspected. This would feel more like a family reunion than a client pickup.

  She spotted Theodore Senior first, his arm linked with that of his wife, Marisa. Slim and beautiful, she was allowing her dark hair to go silver. Vesper had always felt strangely reassured that she was content not to have it artificially colored. TJ followed behind them, visibly scanning the crowd. She had seen him most recently in January, when the family had all celebrated the new year at Valhalla. Then, he had been as tall as his father, and in the intervening months he had gained another inch. His gray T-shirt clung to his toned chest and arms, and his shaggy dark hair hung low over his eyes. Vesper could appreciate his attractiveness from a purely aesthetic point of view, but all she really wanted to do was to ruffle his hair like a big sister.

  “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton,” Vesper said as they approached. “Good evening, TJ. Welcome back.”

  “Good evening?” TJ grinned at her as she shook his parents’ hands. “Why so formal, V?” He stepped around his father and drew her into an embrace. “It’s good to see you,” he murmured as he released her.

  Vesper stepped back gratefully. She didn’t want his parents to get the wrong idea. Also, he was wearing too much cologne. As they walked toward the car, she ran through the usual questions—how their flight had been, whether they had any special requests, and if any of their plans had changed.