Page 2 of Cocky Prince
I glance out of the corner of my eye. His perpetual smirk has fallen, the look that replaced it unguarded—something I’ve never seen on him before. For a moment, my mind races. Did I hurt his feelings?
And why would that bother me? I owe him nothing.
He peers over seductively, and I want to slap myself for questioning whether I hit a nerve. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Hayden. That’s what you do, isn’t it?” His gaze flickers to the textbooks, business journals, and myriad other tomes on bookshelves covering two-thirds of the wall space in my office.
The books and even my red abstract painting of a woman’s silhouette as she clutches her torso clash glaringly with the Blue décor. I bought the painting the week I graduated from the MBA program. Everything I’ve filled my office with reminds me of my education and how far I’ve come. Just because I relied on books to get me where I am, it doesn’t mean I’m incapable of seeing people for who they are.
Adam is exactly who I believe him to be—an entitled, pretty little rich boy. Very pretty, to be exact, in his taupe suit that stretches over broad shoulders. Being susceptible to the pretty things in life is my one major flaw. The Louboutins on my feet, this beautiful setting I call home—and even Adam.
Just like in high school when I trusted another handsome face, I find myself slipping down a well without a rope, scraping the sides in my designer shoes and the backbone I’ve earned. I thought Blue Casino was the fresh start I’d built for myself. I’m no longer sure of that. But I’m not wrong about Adam.
“I’m busy tonight.” Adam drives me nuts, but my unwanted attraction to him isn’t his fault. He was born beautiful; every woman is susceptible to his presence. It’s not fair to take outthatparticular frustration on him. “Congratulations, though. On the promotion. Quite a coup. Blackwell took a liking to you from the start. Next thing you know, he’ll be grooming you for his Blue Stars.”
I watch for signs of nervousness, but Adam’s chiseled jaw doesn’t flinch. Nothing shows except the light smile that replaced the flash of vulnerability I thought I’d caught.
Well, that’s that. He must expect to become one of the Blue Stars, or he would have said otherwise when I suggested our CEO wanted to make him one.
The Blue Stars are a group of men who strut around Blue Casino with sapphire signet rings they’ve obtained for outstanding performance or—according to rumor—for being complete dicks and running a prostitution and drug outfit inside the casino.
Someone needs to stand up for the victims inside this place. As far as I can tell, no one is. I’m going to find out what’s going on, despite the CEO’s determination to keep me out of anything of importance, and take the information to the police. If I can turn this place around and make Blue the dream job I hoped it would be, that’s all I could ever ask.
I turn toward my desk to get back to work, but Adam’s large hand wraps around my upper arm, sending a frisson of awareness through me. My gaze slides over his broad chest, past his beautiful mouth and straight nose, and up to his eyes that give me mixed messages.
His gaze falters and his fingers release their light hold on me. “I may not have earned it, but I am qualified, Hayden.”
There it is again, that spark of vulnerability—this time I hear it in his voice. And then it’s gone.
He turns and swaggers toward the door. “Feel free to join us at Farley’s after work. Hot wings are on me.”
I stare as he leaves because I can’t stop myself from checking him out, especially when he can’t see me doing it. “Don’t count on it.”
Why, after all these months, am I wondering if I’ve misjudged Adam? I don’t need doubt affecting my decisions. Not when calling out the casino is the right thing to do. Blackwell and the men he has lapping at his heels are guilty of a whole slew of crimes—I just need to find hard evidence; rumors aren’t enough. But Adam? I don’t want to question Adam’s guilt. This is about justice. For the women who work at Blue Casino and God knows who else the CEO and his Blue Stars have manipulated and hurt over the years.
And if Adam Cade is involved…I’ll take him down too.
* * *
Adam
“Mr. Cade, let me get that for you.” James, the valet, holds the driver’s side door for me as I exit my Jaguar XKR—an MBA graduation gift a couple of years ago from my father.
I toss James the keys and enter Club Tahoe through the back door, striding down dark hardwood floors and plush area rugs, past a vase with red flowers on a polished stone table. Even in the business offices, Club Tahoe is a thing of beauty.
Esther, my father’s sixty-five-year-old secretary, glimpses my approach from her desk near his office, and grins. She’s wearing a light gray skirt suit, the ruffle of an amethyst blouse peeking above the lapels of the jacket. The combination accentuates her silver hair and presents a sophisticated older woman. Esther is as much a fixture at Club Tahoe as the ten-foot glass-and-wrought-iron chandelier over the entrance.
“Adam.” She stands and engulfs me in a warm hug.
What few know is that along with being put together and elegant, Esther is like a second mother to my brothers and me. Or a first mother, given our own died when I was a child and my youngest brother an infant.
My mother chose to give birth to Hunter rather than fight the breast cancer doctors discovered during her second trimester. I sometimes wonder if she would have made the decision to hold off treatment until after his birth if she’d known how Hunter would turn out. Hunter is one of my favorite brothers, but he is also an unrepentant hedonist.
“How’s the old man’s temper today?”
Esther returns to the desk I’m certain still houses the first-aid kit she used to patch up my brothers and me when we were kids. We went to Esther for comfort because our nanny was a royal bitch. “Mild. His masseuse paid him a visit an hour ago. It was good timing after his investors’ meeting.”
It never matters how well Club Tahoe performs, or that it is world-renowned, Father is never satisfied, his investors equally greedy. They want more. More publicity. More wealthy patrons, though the price for a standard room exceeds the cost of a cross-country plane ticket. Whatever my father has, it is never enough. Which is why my brothers and I stopped trying to impress him long ago. School and sports accolades meant nothing compared to the resort our father built.
After our mother died, Ethan Cade checked out emotionally. Oh, he made sure we were taken care of, but he paid people to deal with those details. He provided for us financially, but even that came at a price. I am the only Cade still willing to pay it.
