Page 25 of Jackpot Joker

I toss my keys to the valet who has become very fond of my visits, then stroll into the lobby. Bypassing the lovely… Luna? Lacy? Whatever her name is, I head straight to the bank of elevators. They’re a fancy set with technical details to keep out anyone without clearance. Fortunately, I have a friend in the tech business who provided me with a simple override. I pull out a key card we typically provide guests when they stay at Angelo. It’s gold, of course, with a pair of angel wings in the middle. I tap it to the reader and smile as the elevators open. Thank you, Lincoln Fisher.

When the elevator doors open, I step out to the sounds of keyboards clacking, people murmuring, and copy machines whirring. My eyes scan the busy floor in search of the woman I’m here to see, but to no avail. Remembering my attorney’s love for a cup of coffee, I go in search of the break room to see if she’s hiding behind a cup.

“You think she’s fucking him?” I overhear a man gossiping and stay outside the break room door in earshot, but out of sight.

“He could do a lot better than her,” a man says in a nasally tone. “I mean, she’s got a nice set of tits, but you’d probably have to lift her rolls up to find the hidden temple.”

The two of them laugh at their joke while I ball my fists. No woman should be spoken about this way, and I’m about to let them know, but they continue their conversation and it has me stopping in my tracks.

“You think the boss is pissed she went with Caruso because he wants her for himself?”

Jasmine. They’re spewing vitriol about the woman I haven’t been able to get out of my mind. The beautiful woman whose curves only enhance her body.

“I don’t know, man. Delaney typically has standards. I can’t imagine he wants a piece of that fat ass.”

Unable to stand here another moment and listen to them shame her body, I step into the room and make my presence known.

“Gentlemen,” I greet them, unbuttoning the sleeve of my shirt and rolling it up to my elbows. I repeat the action with the other side as they realize who I am. “You haven’t seen Miss Baker around, by chance, have you?”

“No, Mr. Caruso,” the one with the nasally voice says. “Is there something we can help you with?”

I walk over to the coffee pot and point at it. “Is this fresh?”

The men nod.

Picking up the carafe, I press my hand up to the glass, pleased the liquid inside is piping hot.

“The cups?” I ask, and they both point to the cabinet behind me. I pull down two paper cups, foregoing the lids, and fill them to the brim. Holding one in each hand, I walk over to where the men stand.

“You see, gentlemen, I swung by to have a meeting with my attorney. Instead, I find two gossiping cocks in here spitting out vile, disgusting comments about her. Would you two know anything about that?”

“We were joking around,” the one with the perfectly acceptable voice says.

The other one speaks, and I cringe at his tone. “Yeah, we didn’t mean anything by it. We were just having a bit of fun.”

I chuckle. “Oh, I understand, boys.”

“You… you do?” Mr.-Speaks-Through-His-Nose asks.

“Of course. I like to have fun, too.”

I jerk my wrists, emptying the contents of the coffee cups into their faces and finding pleasure in their screams. “See? Now we’re all having fun.”

I rap my knuckles on the glass window, and my lips can’t help but tilt up at the low groan I hear. As I head into Jasmine’s office, she fixes her features, ever the professional.

“Jasmine, you’re not an easy woman to track down,” I remark as I place a cup of freshly made coffee on her desk.

She looks at the cup, then up at me with furrowed eyebrows. “Did we have an appointment today, Mr. Caruso?”

I smile widely, though I’m highly annoyed by the formal use of my name. “Must I have an appointment to visit my favorite attorney?”

Jasmine clears her throat. “Yes, actually. While you are a beloved client and we at Jorgensen & Munson proudly represent you, you aren’t the only client we have. Calendars exist for this reason, and since I don’t see you anywhere on mine, I’m afraid I will have to ask you to leave.”

My jaw ticks, but I don’t allow my smile to falter. I press both hands to my chest. “Miss Baker, we’ve only been on one date, and here you’re saying you love me.”

She grits her teeth and, for a moment, I fear she’s going to crack a molar. “It was not a date. And I don’t believe those were my exact words, Mr. Caruso. Now, since you don’t have an appointment, I am going to have to ask you to make one if there’s something we need to discuss. You can do so downstairs with Lindsay.”

Before his hand can grip my shoulder, I see the man who helped me out last week through my peripheral vision. I turn and smile at Jim Jorgensen, hopeful he’ll help me out with the bullheaded attorney I find myself intrigued by.