Page 30 of Don't Bet On It
Was he suggesting I was an angry person? He had ghosted me on prom night. If anybody had a reason to be angry, it was me. I had magnanimously risen above that situation, however. He should be grateful that I wasn’t holding a grudge.
“I just came over to offer help if you need any,” I bit out. He was officially on my last nerve. “You obviously know everything, though, so you won’t need my help.”
“No, I won’t need your help,” he agreed.
“Great.”
“It is great.”
We glared at each other, the hatred of a thousand suns burning between us.
“Is everything ready?” Kyla asked, appearing on my right. She had her tablet out and seemed to be checking for reservations. She was not interested in whatever was brewing between us.
“It’s fine,” I replied, snapping back to reality. Kyla had been cold ever since the incident with Olivia days before. If she was finally thawing, I wasn’t about to make things worse by beefing with Ronan in front of her. “Everything is great. I was just telling Ronan to ask for help if he needs anything.”
Kyla slowly lifted her chin. “I’m sure he knows that.” She turned to the man in question. “You know that, correct?”
“I do,” Ronan confirmed. “I’m looking forward to whatever comes today. It should be fun.”
“Work is not fun,” Kyla replied, not missing a beat. “Also, today is likely going to be a chore. Edward Baskins is bringing a group through in about an hour.”
I frowned, trying to place the name.
“The owner of the Las Vegas Slots?” Ronan asked, his brow furrowing.
The Las Vegas Slots? They were a group of exotic dancers who bounced from casino to casino. They had a huge following and were considered the tackiest stripper troupe on the Strip. I had nothing against strippers—everybody had to make a living—but I was surprised the owner was considered a bigwig.
Kyla nodded. “Yes. Baskins is tight with quite a few professional sports team owners.” Her distaste was obvious, her upper lip curving. “I believe he’s going to have twenty people total in his group. We’re to keep them fed, liquored up, and happy at the tables.” Her words were pointed. “Do you think you can handle that?”
“Of course,” Ronan said quickly. “I’m ready.”
Kyla’s gaze slid to me. “Are you okay with it, or do you want to bring your little friend down to handle it for you?”
I didn’t have to ask who she was referring to. As anticipated, when Olivia had intervened on my behalf, things had gone even further sideways between Kyla and me.
“I didn’t purposely bring her down here,” I protested. “Olivia took it upon herself to visit.”
“Mrs. Stone,” Kyla corrected pointedly. “She’s the wife of a majority owner. That means she’s to be referred to in a respectful manner.”
I managed to refrain from scowling, although it took effort. “Of course,” I said automatically, trying not to picture Olivia’s face if I referred to her as Mrs. Stone, even if it was in a professional capacity. “I always try to be respectful.”
Kyla snorted. “Right.” She rolled her eyes until they landed on Ronan. “My understanding is that the Baskins group wants to play Texas Hold’Em. If they would prefer to split and play multiple games, however, please let me know. I’ll get a second dealer in here for the early evening shift.”
“No problem.” Ronan’s smile was of the charming variety. “I’m sure everything will go smoothly.”
Kyla’s dark glare landed on me. “Here’s hoping there’s not a snafu we need to worry about.” She turned on her heel and walked away, her disdain lingering.
“Well, she seems to really like you,” Ronan said on a wide grin. “I think this is going to be all sorts of fun.”
He would think that.
EDWARD BASKINS WAS EXACTLY WHAT Iexpected. He was big—as in width, not height—and he liked to hear himself talk. The second he walked into the lounge, he tried to act like a big shot.
“This isn’t nearly as large as I thought it would be.” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s like an airport lounge.”
That was a ridiculous thing to say. The lounge was nothing like what you might find in an airport. The couches were lush. The tables were metal and had an industrial feel. The televisions were top-end, and the liquor was top-shelf. Everything about the lounge screamed opulence.
Baskins wanted to be seen as an important man, however. That was simply who he was at his core.
