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That’s the difference between guys and most women; we tend to be far more hormone driven and maybe a little irrational. I say most women, because I have met quite a few who would fuck anything for a handful of Ben Franklins. I really don’t want to go back to dating. If things go south with Mandy, I think I’m just going to declare celibacy. I push my face into the steam of cool water in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Whew, I think Mandy is right. I must be drunk.
Why anyone would actually choose celibacy is beyond me. Maybe I’ll spend a couple weeks at the Playboy Mansion, instead. That would be the polar opposite of celibacy. I like it. I chuckle and rinse the conditioner from my hair. Maybe I should take Tyler with me too. He needs to loosen up before he has a psychotic break.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I walk back into the master suite. “You can’t parade around like that in front of me right now,” Mandy scolds.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I being a tease or something?” I release the towel, letting it drop to the floor. “I promise, I won’t let it happen again.”
“Okay, I’ll finish getting dressed in the other bedroom.” She gives me a glare before gathering up her makeup and hair products.
We have already seen everything there is to see of each other. What’s the big deal? I pull out a black Giorgio Armani suit, a crisp white shirt, black tie and a pair of gold cufflinks. I’ve never had much luck gambling, but at least I’ll look good. I slip on my shiniest pair of black dress shoes to complete the look. I glance in the mirror to comb my hair and spray on a little Sure Fuck, even though it’s probably not going to work it’s magic tonight.
“Is this better?” I ask Mandy, cracking open the door to the other bedroom.
“Wow, you look amazing.” She beams. “If I was sure you weren’t my brother, I might just rip those clothes right off of you.”
“Have another glass of champagne and think about it.” I walk over to her, slipping my arms around her waist. “You know what it does to me when you wear high heels and a little black dress.”
“I know.” She smirks. “Two can play the teasing game,” she says as she breaks away and heads toward the door.
Mandy
After a two-minute limo ride past the Hotel de Paris, we arrive at the Casino de Monte Carlo. I definitely think we could’ve walked, as it would’ve sobered us up a bit more. Judging by the number of exotic sports cars parked in front of Casino de Monte Carlo; it definitely looks like the place to be tonight. Trey shifts in his seat obviously wondering which business magnates and socialites will be among the crowd inside. There are times when he is very cool and confident, but other times he seems a bit uncomfortable with the expectations that accompany extreme wealth. Even though I still harbor a sickening feeling inside, I’m determined to have some fun.
“It’s really busy tonight.” He scans the crowded floor upon entering the casino. “Hopefully we don’t have to wait around for a table.”
“We’ve got all night,” I assure him. “If we don’t get on right away, it’s no big deal.”
“I’m not one who likes waiting,” he says, leading me to the cashier.
“We are here to play some baccarat,” he tells the man who returns a blank stare. “I’m Trey Addison, Victor’s oldest.” He turns and gives me a confident wink.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Right away, Sir,” he replies after just a few keystrokes on his computer. “Would you like his standard line?”
“No. I only need one million, thanks,” he replies. “Dad always started with five million euros, but I’m not much of a gambler,” he explains while the cashier hands him a block of one hundred, ten thousand dollar chips. “I guess our minimum bet is ten thousand,” he says with a smirk as we make our way to one of the high roller rooms.
“I have no idea how to play, so I’ll just watch you.” I stay back while he takes his spot at the main table.
“Do you want me to lose?” He reaches back and pulls me up to his side. “I told you I’m a terrible gambler. I want to see if we are any good together.”
“But what am I going to do?” I ask, completely at a loss.
“It’s your job to pick whether we bet on the player or the banker and I’ll place the bet,” he replies, making it sound like a simple task.
“How do I choose which one is going to win, when I don’t even know how to play?” I’m still a little flabbergasted by the notion. “Are you still drunk?”
