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Dorian
I never tiredof the constant jingling and trilling of a casino floor. I never played slots, but I considered them to be an infinitely important part of the casino experience. Partially because of the sound, but also because there was something about hiding among a forest of metal boxes that made casinos a little more mysterious.
Not that I was one in the trees at present. The high rollers craps room didn't have any slot machines in it. All it contained were a couple tables, a ton of waitresses, and a bunch of men and women dressed to the nines. I loved this part of the casino. The exclusivity, the knowledge that all among us had two things in common: wealth and power.
Well, not all of us. The brunette at my side, though beautiful, had neither of the other two things in spades. She was a clever enough girl, but that wasn't why I had hired her. She was here for the way she looked. Period. And she was fine with it, thoroughly enjoying the attention.
My brother, however, wasn't having as nice of a time. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He glared at the dealer. “You won't let me place a higher bet?”
The pit manager, a stout man in his forties, smiled apologetically. “The table limit is fifty thousand, I'm afraid.”
“Then point me in the direction of a table with a higher limit!” Enzo demanded.
He'd spent the past couple hours winning big, and now he had over a quarter of a million, which I could see he was itching to put all in on a single bet. Enzo liked to win, and he liked to win big. And if he lost big while he was at it? Well, then he'd just treat himself to enough revelry that he'd forget he ever lost in the first place.
But it seemed the Aladdin Casino was not on board with his philosophy.
“There are no tables with higher limits,” the manager replied. “I can call the owner–”
“Why don't you do that. And while you're at it, get me another drink.”
I mentally cringed. I loved my brother, but he had a bad habit of getting obnoxious when he was on one of these power trips. He'd find a way to get what he wanted. He always did.
Dawn, his date for the evening, was a seasoned pro. She didn't so much as bat an eyelash at Enzo's abominable behavior. Instead, the cute blonde started whispering things in his ear. I watched his face change from irritated to pleased so quickly I had to wonder what the hell she said to him, and if it was something I'd be able to use in the future. Given the way he was licking his lips, I was pretty sure it was the type of comment that only worked when coming from someone with double-X chromosomes.
The brunette by my side, Gillian, tried to start a conversation with me in the dealer's absence. “How long will you boys be in Vegas?”
Her voice was smooth, like honeyed butter, and I knew she'd probably spent a lot of time perfecting it so that it dripped sex appeal. But I wasn't interested in chatting. I thought I'd made that clear before, but I was sure she'd figure it out. If she didn't, neither my brother nor I would be using that particular service again. We paid to get what we wanted, and if a service couldn't satisfy our desires, we'd take our business elsewhere.
“Not long,” I replied shortly, pulling out my phone to check if I had any important messages. I might not be as much of a workaholic as my oldest brother, Nicolas, but I took my responsibilities seriously, even if this was supposed to be a vacation.
The pit manager came back a moment later, jaw tight. “I spoke with the owner. Unfortunately, Mr. Germaine has chosen to decline your request.”
Enzo scowled at the manager, then began looking around, a familiar expression on his face.
Dammit. He was about to start his usual shit. For being a middle child, he certainly acted like a spoiled youngest sometimes.
“Where the fuck is my drink?” he asked. When no one immediately answered, he shoved off his chair. “Do I have to do everything myself?”
He took off for the bar, Dawn trailing behind him. I sighed and clasped Gillian's hand, following my angry brother. When he got like this, there was no telling what he might do. Half the time, I thought my real job in the family business was babysitting Enzo, keeping him from doing anything that reflected badly on us.
“Cristal,” Enzo barked at the bartender. “The bottle.”
The bartender grabbed a bottle of the expensive champagne and put four glasses up on the bar top. Then he made a huge mistake by telling Enzo how much he owed.
“It's not complimentary?” My brother's eyes were glinting with the sort of emotion that put me on edge. “What kind of fucking service is this? You won't let me try to make any money, but you expect me to spend all the money I have earned on champagne?”
“I have a nice Prosecco that's complimentary,” the bartender offered.
“Prosecco?” Enzo practically shouted. “What the hell do you think I want a drink for? That's a dessert wine, you hack! Did you even go to bartending school?”
I sighed. When he got his temper up like this, he'd go after anyone and everyone who even looked at him cross-eyed. He'd gain momentum, and there'd be no stopping him until he ran out of steam. Once, Nicolas and I decided to just sit back and watch. Enzo had gone on for nearly two hours before we stepped in or we’d been forced to watch him get his ass handed to him.
Ever since then, I tried to head things off before they got too far.
I put a hand on Enzo's shoulder and stepped up in front of him to speak to the bartender myself. “Two bottles of Cristal, please. You can put it on our room tab.”
I grabbed the bottles the bartender held out and handed them off to the girls. They followed as I led Enzo over to a quieter corner of the room. If I could get him to vent to us, let Dawn soothe his pride a bit, we could get back to doing what we'd come here to do. Enzo might've come as much for the escorts as the gambling, but I was more about the game.
