Billionaire In Vegas Page 2

  Later that week, I made my way to the temp office to meet with my recruiter. I did mostly contract work, going from one client to another. I enjoyed it. I didn’t like routine or staying in one place, so temp work was great for someone like me. My recruiter, Kadija, had called me last weekend, telling me to report in because she had an opportunity that I’d love. I was a little apprehensive. Kadija had a habit of assigning me the most difficult of clients. I normally didn’t complain because it meant the pay was even more, but I wanted to take it easy. I wasn’t feeling as motivated to deal with difficult people lately. I figured it was because I was getting older and crankier... even though I was just turning 30 not 70.

  I tugged at my earrings nervously as I got into the elevator. I was terribly claustrophobic, but my therapist had suggested I face my fears straight on in order to get better. Emmaline was my therapist and she was currently in graduate school online earning her master’s degree in psychology. I didn’t know if her advice was any good or not, but it was free.

  I sighed in relief when the elevator dinged, signaling we’d arrived at my floor and I practically jumped out of it, heading in the direction of the temp agency. I found the frosted glass door, pushed it open, and before I could even approach the window to sign in, the receptionist smiled widely at me and said, “Don’t sit. Go straight in.”

  I raised my eyebrows and did as I was told. Normally, I read all the outdated magazines in the lobby before Kadija made an appearance.

  Speak of the devil, she met me immediately as I entered.

  “Lacey Cabot. Now if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.” She gave me a big hug as if we hadn’t seen each other in years, when actually it couldn’t have been more than three months.

  I hugged her back, no matter how uncomfortable it made me. I hated hugs from strangers and yes, I’d known Kadija for a couple of years now, but I didn’t even hug my aunt who’d practically raised me. Actually, my aunt didn’t hug anyone. She was a stoic woman. I tried my best to take after her, but I wore my emotions on my sleeves, no matter how hard I tried to hide them.

  As expected, Kadija could see that I was surprised. She smiled at me, showing off her deep dimples in her flawless caramel-colored face. Her hair was in dreadlocks and artfully arranged in a bun on top of her head. She smiled at me as if she had the best secret she could barely contain.

  “I know, I know. I practically tackled you when you walked in, but Lacey, I got a call from a friend of a friend who is looking for a personal assistant. It’s a great opportunity for you!”

  I frowned. “A personal assistant gig? That’s not my thing.” I had an issue with the idea of being at someone’s beck and call.

  “You don’t have any office work or something along those lines?”

  “He’ll pay you seventy-five dollars an hour.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Kadija smiled like the Cheshire Cat. “Uh huh. Now you change your tune. Come on, step into my office.”

  I followed her silently in a state of shock. What person in their right mind would pay some stranger seventy-five dollars an hour to just do menial tasks like fetching the dry-cleaning and paying their utility bill? I narrowed my eyes.

  “Who’s the client? Isn’t that a lot, even for a personal assistant? It must be someone crazy difficult.”

  “Not at all. I promise you that.” Kadija smiled in an assuring manner from the opposite side of the desk.

  I didn’t believe her and I said as much. “Come on, Kadija. Seventy-five bucks an hour? For how long?”

  “Oh...well…indefinitely,” she said, pulling at the sleeve of her blouse.

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “So let me get this right, someone indefinitely needs a personal assistant and is willing to pay me seventy-five dollars an hour for my services?”

  She nodded, “I know it sounds crazy—”

  “Yep.”

  She continued, “But it’s a legitimate job.”

  “Tell me about the client.”

  She smiled in relief, probably thinking my curiosity would get the best of me. “His name is Oliver Foster. His personal assistant just recently retired so they’re looking for a replacement. Have you heard of the Foster family?”

  I shook my head. “Should I have?”

  Kadija shrugged, “They’re one of the oldest families in the area. They keep a pretty low-profile.”

  I made a noncommittal sound and Kadija continued, “My source tells me he’s a harmless old man who just needs a little companionship.”

  “Sounds a little like an escort service—”

  Kadija tossed her hands up. “At least try to work with me here, Lacey. I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime and didn’t your car just die?”

  She was referring to my early 90s Honda. I loved that car and I had been too cheap to replace it. I didn’t like the idea of taking out an auto loan, so when my car had died, I started taking the bus everywhere instead. I wasn’t enjoying it. Public transportation drove me crazy. I didn’t like all the people sitting so close to me, randomly talking to me or having to reach over people to signal for my stop. I hated it, but I hated the idea of debt more. I watched my aunt struggle with debt while she raised me and I didn’t want to repeat that experience in my own life. For the most part, I was a practical person and I didn’t like complications.

  “Yes, my car died,” I admitted with a sigh.

  “And for the amount of money you’ll make working as Mr. Foster’s assistant you’ll be able to buy a car with cash or at least put down a nice down payment pretty soon...”

  She had a point but I wasn’t going to tell her, and then she sweetened the deal. “I heard he gives bonuses.”

  I kept my expression as impassive as I could before saying, “Oh really? Cash bonuses?”

  “His previous personal assistant made an extra five thousand a month on top of their salary.”

  “Five thousand dollars?”

  Kadija nodded, now looking smug. “So are you in? If so, I can arrange a meeting later today.”

  “That would be great,” I said, relenting. Beggars can’t be choosy, as my aunt would say, and hey, I needed the money.

  Kadija clapped her hands together like a gleeful toddler and thanked me. She then slid a card over to me. I took it curiously and realized that it was a hand-written card with an address and a code on it.

  “What’s this?”

  “Mr. Foster’s address and security code. He’s expecting you.”

  I still felt a little hesitant, but then I thought back to my bus ride to the temp office. There’d been a guy on there who kept insisting on singing to me. And when I’d blatantly ignored him, he had tried to spit shine my shoe. Or at least, I was giving him the benefit of the doubt that he was trying to shine my shoes and not necessarily trying to spit on me. Yeah, I needed a new car. I needed Mr. Foster’s money.

  Kadija was nice enough to call me a taxi and less than thirty minutes later, we pulled up in front of Mr. Foster’s estate. There was a security guard out front who beckoned for us to pull up.

  He lowered himself to our line of vision and said through the window, “Are you Miss Cabbage?”

  “Cabot,” I corrected tightly, blushing ever so slightly. I didn’t think my last name was that difficult to pronounce.

  He gave a self-deprecating laugh and shook his head. He scratched at his long beard and said with a little smile, “Sorry about that Miss Cabot. I’m terrible with names. I have two daughters and I mix them up all the time! And their names sound nothing alike.”

  I smiled slightly at his attempt to be friendly and told myself to stop being so uptight. “It’s okay. It happens.”

  He then surprised me saying, “Miss Cabot, ummm cars aren’t allowed on the property. You’ll need to walk to the entrance.”

  “Walk?” I said looking down dubiously at my feet. I wasn’t exactly wearing walking shoes.

  The security guard looked apologetic as he opened the door for
me and I slid out. I paid the driver who watched the entire exchange wordlessly before driving off.

  “How far away is the actual estate?” I said unable to tell since the large gate was covered in ivy and I couldn’t see through the bars to the house on the opposite side.

  “About half a mile,” the guard said, and my mouth fell open.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I mumbled. I wasn’t the athletic type. My idea of working out was lifting a spoon full of ice cream to my face to shove into my mouth. I was lucky I had skinny genes, because I was a lazy glutton to be completely honest.

  “Maybe it’s only a quarter mile—”

  “That doesn’t sound much better.”

  “Okay. Well, it’s definitely less than ten minutes.”

  “I can’t believe this.”

  “Could be worse,” the guard said with a smile. He then walked to his little office and hit a button, the gate opened and suddenly I felt nervous. What was I getting myself into?

  “Just follow the path straight up... you can’t miss it.”

  “Sure. Great. Thanks, ummm—” I realized then that I hadn’t asked his name.

  “It’s Peter. Peter Nguyen. You can call me Pete. Everyone does.”

  “Nice to meet you, Pete. And please, call me Lacey.”

  He smiled and shook my hand. “You better head on up. He’s going to wonder what’s taking so long.”

  “Oh yeah, you’re right. Well, wish me luck. Hopefully, I won’t be too much of a sweaty mess when I get there.”

  He shrugged. “Trust me, Mr. Foster either won’t notice or won’t care.”

  “He’s a pretty laissez-faire type of boss?” I asked hopefully.

  “Mr. Foster’s a character.”

  I wanted to ask more, but I needed to get a move on so I waved my goodbye to Pete and started up the path to the estate. And it was then that I saw that the ground wasn’t flat at all. It was hilly.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I said out loud as I made my way up the first hill, huffing and puffing as I went. I knew I should have been impressed by the beauty around me; the immaculately kept lawn, the overhanging trees along the path that must have been hundreds of years old, the gardens that begged to be on the cover of a gardening magazine.

  But I was miserable. The flowers aggravated my allergies and made my nose run. My eyes were watering and I couldn’t stop sneezing. My calves were on fire and I felt sweat running down my thighs. My granny panties were uncomfortably tugging in weird places and I hazarded a look behind me just to be sure no one was watching as I reached under my skirt and attempted to tug them back into place. And it was then that I heard the laugh.

  Startled, I looked to where it had come from and saw a man standing there with a smug smile on his face.

  I could feel myself blushing as I opened my mouth to explain myself, but then I promptly closed it as the man grew nearer. I immediately took a step back. I recognized him and if the stupid smile on his face was any indication, he clearly recognized me.

  “Please tell me you’re not Mr. Foster.”

  He smiled widely at me. “Hate to disappoint you, but I am.”

  Chapter Two

  I didn’t say a word—I just turned around and marched away, determined to put this whole day behind me.

  “Woah, whoa, whoa, where are you going?” said the man who I recognized as the sexy stranger from the ice cream shop. He attempted to keep up with me, so I willed myself to walk faster. It didn’t work. I was already spent from walking up the first two hills and my muscles were screaming in protest.

  “Home.” I struggled to get just that one word since I was almost panting in exhaustion.

  “So you’re just going to leave?”

  “Yep,” I said, trying to maintain my dignity as I stumbled over a rock and barely stayed upright.

  “Is walking new for you?”

  I shot him a glare. “Is being a decent human being new for you?”

  “Ouch,” he said, attempting to look injured, but failing miserably.

  I ignored him and continued marching away. He tried to keep up with me and I walked faster. I knew I was huffing and puffing, and I felt even more humiliated because I was apparently really out of shape.

  “Hmmm.... maybe you should slow down,” he said easily, not at all winded.

  “You—can’t tell—me—what—to—do,” I said between breaths. Apparently, I couldn’t walk quickly and talk at the same time. My heart was beating fast and I could feel sweat collecting across my forehead. With frustration, I wiped at it.

  “You need a handkerchief?”

  “No—I—need—you—to—just—leave—me—alone!” I managed to yell, again having to pause between words, which served to make my plea to be left alone even weaker.

  “You look like you’re going to pass out. Do you have some sort of health condition?”

  “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, stopping and turning in his direction. I planted my hands on my hips and tilted my head to glare up at him. Being just five feet tall wasn’t helping me feel in control of the situation, especially since I struggled to control my own breathing. Honestly, I hadn’t stopped to confront him because I was offended by his words, I just thought I was going to pass out if I didn’t stop walking.

  “Jude, I gave you one task and you managed to completely make a mess of things,” came a voice from in front of us.

  I turned in the direction of the voice and couldn’t help but smile. In front of me was an older man with a big bushy white mustache and a bald head. He was wearing brief shorts and pumping his legs back and forth. I guess he had just got back from exercising. He was shirtless and his chest sort of caved inwards. He looked like a baby bird. And when he smiled, I saw that he had a large gap in between his two front teeth.

  “Dad, I said I would take care of it and I was,” the guy from the ice cream shop said with annoyance.

  “Well, apparently you aren’t taking care of it, because she’s obviously walking in the opposite direction of the house.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I’m leaving,” I said turning away from them both and continuing my way to the entrance. Pete saw me and gave a hesitant wave in greeting, before seeing who accompanied me.

  “Uh oh,” I saw him mouth.

  The shirtless older man stepped in front of me, blocking me from leaving. He gave me an apologetic smile, saying, “You must be Ms. Cabot. I’m sorry for my son’s behavior. He doesn’t know how to talk to women, that’s why he’s currently single.”

  Ice cream shop guy responded, “Excuse my father. He, unfortunately, has no excuse for himself. I wish I could call him senile, but that would be giving him too much credit.”

  There was no humor in his voice and the tension between the two of them instantly made me wish I had never stepped out of the taxi.

  “Well, umm... I hope you guys figure everything out...” I said, gesturing for Pete to open the gate.

  The older Mr. Foster immediately looked contrite, “I’m sorry, Ms. Cabot. I’m Oliver. Oliver Foster. And you’ve already met my son, Jude. I hope not by reputation—”

  “Nice, Dad. Contrary to popular belief I’ve only slept with a quarter of the women in this state, not all of them,” Jude said sarcastically, folding his arms across his body.

  I got the feeling their argument was less about me and more about something I had no involvement in.

  I looked from father to son and said to Oliver, “So you’re my prospective client? Not Jude?”

  Oliver nodded, “Jude was supposed to meet up with you and escort you to the house. Apparently, that task was much too hard.”

  “If you cared so much about what I could do right, you could have met up with Ms. Cabot on your own.”

  “Apparently...”

  Now I was feeling like a third wheel and I saw that Pete had the gate open. “Well, gentleman, it’s been a blast. I hope you guys settle whatever this all is,” I
said, gesturing between the two of them.

  Oliver stopped me, saying, “We’re sorry, Ms. Cabot. I’m afraid our manners are lacking. Please stay.”

  I looked at Jude who seemed to want to be anywhere else but in the presence of his father. Then what was he doing here?

  “Not to be too personal, but do both of you live here? Would I be working as a personal assistant for the both of you?”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m not the old, senile one,” Jude said with a dry laugh.

  Oliver’s expression became tight. “Trust me, my dear, I wouldn’t subject you to that type of torture. You were hired as my assistant. Jude can fend for himself.”

  Jude gave a harsh laugh. “You got that right.”

  I glanced again at Oliver. Despite his obvious contempt towards his son, I didn’t think he seemed too bad. I figured if I were related to Jude, I would hate him too. My mind made up, I said, “Well if that’s the case, I guess we can give this a shot.”

  Oliver grinned and folded his hands in as if praying and bowed to me. “You won’t regret it, Ms. Cabot.”

  “Please, just call me Lacey.”

  He took my hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. “A pleasure to meet you, Lacey.”

  Half an hour later, I found myself seated across from Jude. I tried to avoid looking directly at him even though it was nearly impossible. The stupid look on his face made me want to roll my eyes in annoyance. The look was a cross between a smirk and gloating. And more bothersome was that I still found him just as sexy now as when I first encountered him in the ice cream shop. I was so annoyed with myself.

  “I hope you’re not a vegetarian, Ms. Cabot,” Oliver said, as a butler appeared from nowhere and began to serve lunch. We were sitting in the expansive dining room and I was still trying to get over how much I was surrounded by wealth. The house was easily 10,000 square feet and the most endearing room in my mind was the library. He had taken me on a tour of the main house while lunch was prepared and it had been overwhelming.

  “I definitely enjoy meat. I’m a huge carnivore.”