Page 28 of Wild Card
After everything that happened with the Weeping Jewels, once the truth came out and the dust settled, it was pretty clear that our days in the casino world were numbered.
Not because we weren’t damn good at our jobs. We were the best. But because Las Vegas loves secrets more than it loves money. And our relationship? That was the kind of truth that would’ve gotten us fired the moment it hit the gossip circuit.
So we left before they could force our hands. Started our own firm—Crosscut Investigations. Her idea. She said it sounded “clean, sharp, and lethal.” Just like her.
Turns out the city that once tried to chew us up now can’t get enough of us. We have to turn clients away. Security consulting. Internal theft cases. Insurance fraud. Corporate espionage. If there’s a secret worth stealing, someone’s hiring us to find it.
And unlike the old days,weget to decide who we work with. And yeah, we make a hell of a lot more money now than we ever did playing defense for billion-dollar casinos. But that’s not whyI love this life. I love it because every morning starts with her beside me—hair messy, stealing all the covers, accusing me of snoring.
I love it because we built this thing together. We took all the scars, all the betrayal, all the lies—and turned them into something real. Something unbreakable.
The bell above the office door jingles, and I don’t have to look up to know it’s her.
I’d know that walk anywhere.
Sharp heels, confident stride, the faint scent of jasmine. But when Idolook up, damn. She’s somehow even more beautiful today than the day I first met her—when we were still enemies sizing each other up in a dim conference room full of power plays.
Now she walks in like she owns the place. Because she does. Aria Taylor—my partner in business, in life, and in whatever madness comes through that door next. She’s wearing a fitted navy blazer, open just enough to show the glint of a silver chain at her throat. Her hair’s curled in loose waves, and her lips are painted the kind of red that makes a man forget how to spell his own name.
She drops a manila folder on my desk and says, “I’ve got something.”
I arch a brow and lean back in my chair. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
She rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches like she’s fighting a smile. “Keep it in your pants, Casanova. We’ve got work to do.”
I flip open the file.
Photos. A handwritten letter. A grainy security cam still.
“What is this?” I ask, scanning the contents. The handwriting is tight and deliberate. Desperate.Help me before it's too late.
“A missing persons case,” she says, sliding into the chair across from me. “But it’s more than that. I think it’s connected to a larger pattern. Look at the dates.”
I do. My eyes narrow. Three people. All vanished within five days of each other. Different casinos. Different parts of the city. But the timeline? Too close to be coincidence.
“I thought we didn’t do missing persons,” I murmur, still reading.
“We don’t,” she says. “But I think this one’s about to go way deeper than that.”
I glance up at her. Her eyes are gleaming—not with fear, but with focus. That razor-sharp glint I’ve come to know like the back of my hand. The one that sayswe’re about to crack something wide open.
I smile. “Alright,” I say. “Let’s see how deep the rabbit hole goes. But first, you’re going to have to let me into your holes so I can focus.”
“Is that right, Presley?”
"Fuck, Aria," I mutter under my breath, my eyes fixated on her as she leans against the desk, her curves accentuated by the tailored suit she’s wearing. "You look fucking incredible."
Aria smirks, her eyes darkening with desire as she takes in my hungry gaze. "Well, Presley, what are you waiting for?"
Without a second thought, I close the distance between us, my hands immediately finding their way to the buttons of her blouse. I can feel her heart pounding against my palm as I slowly undo each one, revealing her lacy black bra and the soft, smooth skin beneath.
I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear as I whisper, "I'm going to make you scream my name."
Aria lets out a soft moan as I traced the curve of her neck with my tongue, my hands moving to the zipper of her skirt. I can feelthe heat radiating from her pussy as I slip my hand between her thighs, teasing her through the thin fabric of her panties.
"Presley," she gasps, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk as I continue my slow, torturous exploration. "Please."
I smirk, knowing exactly what she wants. I sink to my knees in front of her, my hands pushing her skirt up around her waist as I pull her panties down to her ankles. I can see the wetness glistening on her pussy, and I can’t resist the urge to taste her.
