Page 19 of Maximum Bet

“Are you ladies ready to order?”

Our waitress saves me from further scrutiny. Sadie orders her chili rellenos with extra sauce and a side of jalapeños, which makes me roll my eyes. One of these days, her cravings are going to catch up with her, and we’ll need to buy an entire pharmacy’s worth of antacids.

Before Sadie has a chance to jump back into the subject of dance, I ask about her birthing classes, and she’s sufficiently distracted. As I half listen to her stories of Lucas and his overbearing preparations, I weigh options in my head.

Sadie may be right. A little challenge may be the answer to redirecting my career.

Sadie and I part ways after lunch, with air kisses and “talk to you soon.”

As soon as I’m back in the Escalade on my way to Il Palazzo, I whip out my phone.

Hey Whit. Sadie said you’re taking hip-hop classes?

No surprise, Whitney texts back almost instantly.

Next one is on Thursday morning at Studio Encore. You in? I’ll text the instructor to put your name on the list.

Yeah. I’m in.

Sweetness. See you there, girly pop!

Well, if I humiliate myself, at least there won’t be an auditorium full of people watching.

Chapter 9

Dominic

Across my casino, patrons waste their hard-earned cash under the delusion thattheywill be the player to win big tonight. One man in particular came to our attention. He’s about forty, with sandy blond hair and the kind of nondescript, office-drone look that makes me think he’s an accountant in Phoenix or Denver, or wherever he’s traveled from.

My cocktail waitresses have done a good job keeping him well lubricated, and from my count, he’s on drink six—scotch and soda.

He motions for the dealer to hit him.

His hand tugs through his disheveled hair, and he loosens another button on his shirt. He lost, again.

Eyes darting around the area, he’s escalating to the point of panic.

He’snotwinning big tonight.

“Should I send someone down to cut him off?” Dante stands next to me near the wall of one-way mirrors that overlook the casino from Il Palazzo’s security hub.

The gambler places another round of gaming chips down. He has only a small stack remaining. A few women in cocktail dresses, holding martinis, take the seats next to him. His shoulders tense, and he sends a glare their way as they chatter.

“Yeah, he’s on the verge of combustion.” I rub my chin as the man loses another hand. “Get him out of here. He can have a nervous breakdown at another casino, not mine.”

Dante presses a button clipped to his lapel, ordering our associates on the floor to handle the situation before the man makes a scene.

Two of my security guards appear from behind a set of slot machines and approach. They argue with Mr.drunk-and-soon-to-be disorderly for a minute before they convince him it’s time to call it quits.

Stupid bastard.

I turn from the window as they escort the man out. He’s given me enough of his money for tonight.

Dante returns to the command desk, taking his spot as acting security head while Marco tans his ass on a tropical beach.

I stroll through the room, scanning the security monitors, stopping briefly at one with a view of the theater to try to spot Cassandra on stage. She’s not in the number performing at the moment, but they’re close to the finale. I’ll head down to accompany her upstairs in a few minutes.

On another monitor, I notice a few high rollers I need to say hello to before they leave, Silas Chen and Ezra Kaplan in particular. While I’ve done business with Silas in the past, my current dealings with real estate developer Ezra deserve my attention.