Wild Luck (Vegas Billionaire Obsession #2) (7 page)

Leslie wouldn’t look directly at me. And time moved so slowly. I could barely wait to conclude the segment. When it finally finished and we said our closing lines, I quickly got up and headed her way. There was no better time than the present. She left the room when she saw me, but I followed her to her desk.

By the time I made it to her cubicle, she was busily typing on her computer. She knew I was there, but never looked up until I cleared my throat. When she did look up, she said nothing, and her face held no emotion.

“Can we talk?”

“Leave me alone, Drew,” she mumbled, looking back at the computer screen.

“Will you give me a minute to explain?”

“There’s nothing you could say to explain what you did, Drew.”

“Nothing at all? I would have been there like I said, Leslie, if it wasn’t for—”

“I said I don’t want to hear it, okay? Save your lies and lame excuses for toga girl or Sam.”

“You really don’t think much of me, do you?”

“
Me
? Not think much of
you
? You left and never came back, Drew.”

“I tried to call.”

“Four hours later.”

Our voices were low enough but there were people around and I didn’t want to make a scene. “Can we just go to the diner next door or to my dressing room to speak? Give me a chance to explain, Leslie.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. If you have something to tell me, tell me right here, right now.”

“Your ex-boyfriend Brad beat the shit out of me on my way through the parking lot after I left to change and get the wine. I passed out, and we live in such a shitty neighborhood that no one stopped to see if I was okay. I laid there for probably tree hours before I came to. And when I called you, you didn’t take my calls. There. Satisfied?”

I didn’t wait to see her reaction. It was embarrassing enough. If she couldn’t give me the time of day, it was best I left it there. I turned and walked down the hall to get a coffee in the break room.

“Drew, wait!” she shouted as she followed me.

Four of the staff sitting in cubicles stood up to watch us now. I kept my head up and kept moving. She caught up to me as I poured coffee from the pot into my mug.

“Talk to me, Drew. I’m listening now,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder to get me to turn around. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.”

“What happened? I didn’t know he’d stick around like that.”

“He did.”

“So what happened?”

“I don’t want to get into the gory details, but to sum it up, he put me in an MMA sleeper hold and I woke up three hours later.”

“Oh...I’m sorry.”

“And you didn’t take my calls afterward,” I added. It had to be worth some points now that she was listening.

“I just thought—”

“What
did
you think, Leslie? That I could go from wanting to spend time with you, to forgetting all about you, just like that?”

“Well I—um, I thought you changed your mind.”

“I’m going to say something to you now, and you’ll probably think I’m a jerk for saying it, but you need to hear it. I don’t know if it was Brad, or some other asshole who treated you like a doormat, but I never have and never will treat you that way. I don’t deserve to be lumped in with those pricks. I don’t deserve what you’ve been dishing out to me. Maybe it feels good to you, to treat me the way those men treated you. But deep down, you know I don’t deserve it. So if you don’t want to give me a chance, just tell me now, and I’ll leave you alone.”

I didn’t mean that last part, but I was angry. I stood my ground, holding my mug of coffee as she looked at me, seeming to struggle with what she was about to say. She didn’t say anything, and then I saw that look. It was the look every woman has before she starts crying.
Fuck.
I didn’t want to make her cry. I wasn’t even that harsh. Her eyes welled up and her bottom lip trembled as she tried to hold back the tears. I couldn’t help myself. I put the coffee mug down and pulled her into my arms to hold her.

“Please don’t cry, Leslie. I didn’t mean to upset you like this. God. Look, I’m sorry, okay? Please just don’t cry right now.”

I led her to the table so she could sit, hoping it would help. I grabbed a stack of paper towels and a cup of water from the dispenser in the corner, and handed it to her. A few tears rolled down her face, but thankfully, she hadn’t completely broken down into full-on sobbing.

“Just have a sip of this water okay? “You’ll feel better.”

I sat in the chair beside her and kept my am on her shoulder for support. She took a drink and I could tell it helped. She picked up a couple of the paper towels and dabbed her face. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath, and regained her composure.

“I—you’re right, Drew. I can’t say much more now. We’re at work. But you’re right. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“It’s okay,” I answered. “It’s fine, Leslie. I just wanted to explain. Can I make it up to you after work today? I’d love to take you to lunch or dinner. Anything you want. And I’ll make sure I show up this time. I’ll bring a baseball bat just in case I bump into Brad.”

“No, don’t do that,” she said, almost laughing through the remnants of her tears. “He’ll still kick your ass. Let’s do lunch. That way I can see you again tomorrow for dinner.”

“Sounds great. So are you okay? I’ve got to be back on set in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, yes,” she answered, sniffing.

“Actually can I ask you one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“I heard about your vacation.” I tried not to appear too obsessed over it. “Did you book the trip already?”

“Yep,” she said. “I just wanted to do something different, you know? I’ve always wanted to go to Vegas.”

“You must be excited.” Again, I tried to appear thrilled for her.

“Can’t wait,” she agreed, giving her face a final dab.

I decided to not push the issue any further. She was already emotional and we were still at work. We could talk about it over lunch. And maybe I could convince her to wait.

“Okay, I’d better get back there. The makeup artist will need some extra time on the bruises on my neck.”

“Sorry again, Drew. I can’t believe he did that to you. Actually, I do believe it. He’s a real prick. I just didn’t know that that was the reason you didn’t come back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll bounce back. See you after work.”

Leslie

I
sat across from Drew at the Italian restaurant about a mile from the office. I was glad he picked this place for lunch. They had the best meatball sandwiches. Everything he had said to me earlier stuck in my head. I hadn’t given him a fair chance. I was still living in my past, holding on to the fear of being dumped again. It made sense to have sex with him and expect nothing in return. It was easier. I didn’t have to get my hopes up and be let down later.

The truth was, I was hurting myself and keeping him on the outside. Even as I looked across the table at him, I felt the fear building up again. This man was gorgeous, had only been kind to me since we met, and had a smoking hot body.
How could he ever be interested in me?
That was my problem. My problem wasn’t him; it was my desperately low self-esteem. I didn’t feel like I deserved him.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked, checking the wine and beer menu.

“Yes, I could really use a glass of wine. Probably white. You pick.”

He called over the server and ordered two glasses while I perused the food menu.

“Hey, are you that lady who won the lottery?” the server asked way too loudly.

The restaurant was quiet at our lunch sitting, but the few people sitting around all looked my way. I nodded and smiled to be polite, but didn’t answer.

“Congratulations! You must be so happy,” he said in an even louder voice. “If I were you, I’d be quitting this job right about now. I mean, that’s a ton of money! I could move to Milan, where they serve real Italian food. I could probably own my own restaurant, and finally be—”

Drew spoke up and cut him off. “Thanks for the good wishes. Can you get us our wine now?”

The server straightened up, realizing how unprofessional he was acting. He nodded and left quickly.

“I’m sorry about that,” Drew said. “I should have stopped him sooner.”

“It’s not your fault.”

But then, a couple from a few tables away came up to ours.

“I know you two!” the woman said. “You’re Drew Masterson, right? And you’re that lady who won the Texas lottery.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Drew answered politely.

“Can I get a picture with you?” the man with her said, pulling out his smartphone and turning it horizontally before we answered.

“Any other time would be great, sir,” Drew said, “but we’re about to have some lunch. Do you mind?”

The man didn’t listen. He turned the phone and held his wife’s shoulder as they leaned in and took a selfie with us in the background. He was about to take another when Drew stood up.

“Sir. We said not now. Please excuse us.”

“Alright man,” he answered. As they left, we could hear him telling his wife, “We
never
meet famous people, Betty. Two in one day is darned good.”

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” Drew said, sitting back in his chair.

“It’s okay. It’s kind of nice being recognized.”

“Enjoy it while it’s tame and still a novelty. Eventually the spotlight gets to be a nuisance. More so for you—you’re now rich
and
famous.”

The rest of our lunch date was uneventful. The chef served a tasty meatball sandwich, the wine was lovely, and Drew was actually fun to be around. And he was so attentive. As we wrapped up the heavenly Tiramisu and Drew asked for the bill, I could tell he was apprehensive about something.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Me? I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” I asked as he gave his credit card to the waiter.

“I don’t want to spoil the good time we’re having.”

“Come on, just tell me.”

He shifted in his chair before he said anything. The waiter returned with the card and slip for Drew to sign. When he was done, he stood up and moved behind my chair to help me up. “It’s fine. Come on, let’s go.”

He held his hand out and we walked hand in hand as we left.

“Hey,” I stopped him as he opened the car door for me. “Just tell me.”

I placed my hands on his chest and tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. “You won’t upset me. I promise.”

He let out a breath. “Let me take you home. We can talk there.”

“Okay, but are you planning to drop me to work tomorrow? My car’s still there.”

“Sure. No problem. It gives me more time with you before you and Monica go to Vegas.”

I heard his tone when he said Vegas. That
had
to be it.

“Is it about this trip?” I asked when we were both sitting in his car.

“Maybe a little. I worry about you.”

I chuckled. “Aww... it’s just a girls’ weekend. I really need a break. And a weekend in Vegas is the best way to celebrate.”

I saw his face redden as he started the car. “It’s not that... it’s good that you’re celebrating. I just don’t want anything happening to you while you’re out there.”

“We’ll be fine. We’re going to cut loose and have a good time. We won’t get into too much mischief while we’re there.”

He didn’t seem to like that. “What kind of mischief?”

“Not the kind you think.”

He slowly shook head and drove off. “Just be careful.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

He was quiet for the rest of the drive, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. His country music played in the background, and I think I was starting to like it. I hated to admit it, but I was enjoying being with Drew, and didn’t want the afternoon to end.

“Was that all you wanted to talk about at my place?”

“Yeah. That was it. I can still come by if you’d like some company. Unless Brad’s barricading your front door.”

“Never mind Brad,” I said with a slight grin. “How about your place? I can spare a few hours. And that way, I can avoid the constant phone calls and unexpected visits.”

“It’s started already, huh?”

“Yeah. You were right about that too. It doesn’t help that my number is in the public phone listings.”

“That must be a pain. So how about this? You pick up a few things now, and stay with me until you leave on your trip.”

“Um—I don’t know...” It wasn’t a bad idea, but the thought of not sleeping in my own bed didn’t sound too appealing.

“It’s only two nights. And I’ll sleep on the couch. You can take my bed.”

I thought about it for a minute.

“I’ll be a gentleman, I promise,” he added playfully.

Like I could ever sleep within twenty feet of him and not want to jump his bones. Still, it was better than the constant phone calls from salespeople, two visits from old high school friends who were still local, and even some guy who left a message saying he was my dad. I would have believed it, if it didn’t sound like a twelve-year-old girl.

“You know what? You’ve got a deal. But let me pack a bag for the weekend too, so I don’t have to go back until Sunday night.”

“Sure,” he said as we got closer to my place. “I’ll come up and help.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m kind of uncomfortable telling you this.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“It’s a little embarrassing.”

“Really. I won’t judge you, no matter what it is.”

“Alright...well, I have a bit of an addiction—nothing like drugs or anything. It’s—I, um—”

I parked at her building and she continued to hesitate. It had to be big, at least that’s what I thought. I placed my hand on her shoulder and used my other hand to tilt her face gently, so I could look her in the eye, and hopefully set her at ease.

“You can tell me, Leslie. Whatever it is, I won’t judge. Trust me.”

“Okay, okay. I have a TV addiction.”

“That’s
it
? Leslie, we’re in TV, I think we all have a TV addiction.”

“No, I mean a specific show—well, a series, that is. And a recap is coming on tonight so I can’t miss it.”