Page 25 of Don't Bet On It
Olivia balked. “Not that I want to use that whole ‘married to the boss’ thing, but, um, I’m married to the boss.”
“Which means you could be opening Zach up to a lawsuit if you accuse Ronan of something, whether he did it or not. You heard Kyla.” I was blasé as I absorbed the endless possibilities. “There’s a policy in place that promises no retaliation for anonymous complaints.”
Maybe that was his plan, I mused. Maybe he intended to tick somebody off to the point where they did something to him and he could get a settlement. He’d said he needed money. Perhaps, because of our past, he’d decided I was the exact right employee to further his agenda. Had I been wrong about him?
“I know you and Ronan have a complicated history,” Olivia hedged. “He always seemed like a nice guy to me. Well, despite the whole ‘I’m a billionaire’s son and you will kneel before me’ thing,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
I snorted. “Isn’t that enough reason to hate him?”
“I don’t know. He was always so quiet. He wasn’t like Zach, who was always looking for attention back then. He did his own thing.”
“Just because he was shy doesn’t mean he was a good person,” I fired back. “Also, let’s not forget, he stood me up for prom.” Even saying it made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t a “pick me,” and I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me. That didn’t change the fact that I harbored a great deal of pitiful feelings regarding Ronan’s behavior.
“I could never forget that.” Olivia looked fierce. “Maybe I should tell Zach to fire him.” She was talking to herself more than me, but I responded anyway.
“Absolutely not.” I was vehement when shaking my head. “If you fire him and he made the complaint, then you’ll be playing right into his hands. You do not want to hurt Zach that way, given everything he’s going through—still—with his father.”
Olivia looked momentarily sad. “Why couldn’t they just keep Ryder in prison?”
“Because money talks.” It was the truth.
“What if Ronan tries to cause more trouble for you, though?” She couldn’t let it go. “Things could get ugly.”
“They could get ugly,” I readily agreed. “Just … leave Ronan to me, huh? I can handle him.”
Olivia didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want you getting in over your head.”
I didn’t want that either. “It will be fine,” I assured her. “Trust me.”
I could handle Ronan Hawthorne. I’d learned a lot since I was a teenager, and he’d crushed my heart. I wasn’t afraid of him—or anybody, really—now. If he wanted to play games, we would play games.
This time, I would be the winner.
8
EIGHT
Even though I’d been furious the night Max and Zach had sat me down to talk things out, in hindsight, I was glad it had happened. I no longer had to keep my head down. Sure, I wasn’t about to start wreaking havoc on the casino floor. I didn’t have a pile of worry in the pit of my stomach on a daily basis, however. In some ways, I was free. In other ways, I had something different to worry about.
Would word spread that I was working at Stone Casino? Zach ran in the same circles as my father. Not by choice, but when Zach accepted a leadership position in Stone Group, he was forced to comply with a certain lifestyle. The lifestyle I was running from.
I didn’t think that Zach would purposely out me. What if he accidentally said something in front of the wrong person, though? That possibility had me tossing and turning. Maybe I should’ve stressed that I wanted to keep this under wraps.
You did stress that, I reminded myself. That was exactly what you told him and Rex.
Would they honor my wishes? I didn’t have an answer for that question, and since I was too worried to go up and ask them—that might make things worse—I stewed and fretted. All the while, I worked my job. I was nothing if not a diligent employee.
“Ronan.”
The voice coming in from over my shoulder jolted me, and I turned swiftly. Marjory Jackson, this afternoon’s pit boss—we had five of them—cast a small but tight smile in my direction.
“Marjory.” I nodded to her in greeting. “You surprised me.”
“Sorry.” Her smile was friendly enough, but something was in her eyes that I couldn’t quite identify. “Can you stop by my office after your shift?”
Dread filled my stomach. “I, um…”
“It’s not a big deal,” she assured me, perhaps picking up on my anxiety. “There’s just something we need to discuss.”
