Page 1 of King of Desire (Kings of Las Vegas #2)

CHAPTER ONE

Honeyeh

My new boss Mr. Stanley stops in front of me, giving me that critical eye like he’s trying to figure out what I’m about. Is he worried I’m lazy? Awkward? I swallow down a lump and attempt to give him a reassuring smile.

I don’t tell him, but I’d do backflips provided he keeps me on the payroll.

He takes his eyes off me to frown down at his clipboard. “How do you pronounce your name?”

“Ummm… Honey, just like what bees make, and then at the end you add an ahh, like in a-ha,” my smile grows bigger, almost manic.

One of my college friends Charlotte married some real estate mogul, Mason Kincaid.

She convinced her husband to have his company hire me at one of his restaurants as a favor.

The pay is great, so much better than my last job, and I will do nearly anything to make certain this position sticks.

“Honeyeh, do you have prior waitressing experience?”

“I was a barista,” I clasp my hands leaning forward. “And I was picked for employee of the month multiple times for my hard work and friendliness.”

He looks up at the ceiling like he’s trying not to roll his eyes. “A barista. Great.” Sarcasm drips off the words. Then he adds, in a whisper, “I’ve been stuck with the flavor of the month.”

My brows draw together. What does that mean?

But I don’t ask as he checks a box next to my name. “You can do chair set up for the ceremony. Once it’s done, all the guests will make their way outside for cocktails in the garden. We’ll have to very quickly turn the room over for the reception portion.”

“Right. No problem.”

“I’m sure you know already, but the man getting married is a business partner and family friend of the Kincaids, so everything needs to be perfect today.”

I don’t know why I should know that, but I nod enthusiastically. “Hustle. Perfect. Got it.”

He looks me up and down again, frowning, “You won’t be given special treatment here because you’re a friend of the Kincaids,” he says with a sneer. And then he walks away. I don’t need special treatment, but I have a feeling that he might like me less for being Charlotte’s friend.

Two groups are forming among the staff, and I have no idea which one I should be joining. The first is all women, but the second has three guys and one girl.

“Over here,” a blonde calls to me, the only female with the male group. She gives me a friendly wave. “You’re in the set up and take down crew with us.”

I let out a breath of air, glad someone reached out and made my first day a bit easier. “Thank you.”

“I’m Brittany.”

“Hi. I’m Honeyeh.”

“What a cool name,” Brittany’s brown eyes take in all my details. “You’re gorgeous.”

My mouth opens and closes because I’m not quite sure how to respond. Women can be like that, sometimes, really open and friendly. Then again, they can also have an agenda, and the friendliness is a mask for the cut they’re about to deliver. “Thank you. So are you.”

Brittany preens under my compliment, and the truth is obvious. She did have an agenda, it was to illicit a compliment from me in return. But a girl who just needs her ego fed a bit is totally fine with me, especially since she can help me learn the ropes.

I could use a friend right about now.

“Thanks,” she gives me this exaggerated glam-girl smile. “I moved to Vegas to be a showgirl. I’m still working on it, but I think I’ve got my look almost dialed in.”

I nod, because there isn’t really much else to do. I have no idea what she looked like before. But in her uniform, she looks just like the rest of us. White Oxford, black pants, neatly tied-back hair.

One of the guys standing in the group claps his hands to get our attention. “I’m coordinator tonight. The guest list is small, less than twenty. We’ll set up ten chairs on either side of the arch.”

We start out of the small back room and move into the function space.

I nearly gasp out loud at the arch that’s been erected. It’s covered in bright, exotic flowers that infuse the muted room with bright color and beauty. It’s gorgeous.

Along the walls are giant arrangements of the same flowers.

“I know,” Brittany whispers. “If I don’t make it as a showgirl, I’m marrying the kind of guy who can pay for flowers like these.”

I give Brittany the side eye. Clearly, she’s a woman with a lot of plans. Mine currently aren’t that grand.

My mother, brother, and I moved to the United States ten years ago, after my father disappeared. When she died a few years ago, I became my brother’s caregiver. And when he developed a rare liver disease…

I’m just trying to get him the medical care he needs. “I don’t need flowers. I’d settle for health insurance.”

Brittany laughs. “Girl, with a face and body like yours, you ought to dream big.”

I look down at my fitted Oxford, smoothing the pleats that show off my small waist. I wish she was right. But I mostly I feel like I attract a lot of Mr. Right Now kind of guys.

I date sometimes, but the moment I mention being my brother’s guardian, or heaven forbid, his illness, whatever heat had filled my date’s eyes just disappears.

I get it. I’m a lot.

We set up the chairs, and then ready the tablecloths, plates, and silverware, knowing we’ll only have a few short minutes to change the room over when the ceremony is done.

Waiting discreetly in a small room off the function room, I watch the guests file in. Each man wears a suit that costs more than what I make in a month, all of them handsome.

Some come with a beautiful woman on their arms while others file in alone.

Mason walks in with Charlotte at his side, his arm wrapped around her waist. She catches my eyes and gives me an enthusiastic wave and a thumbs up.

Mr. Stanley tosses me a glare, muttering under his breath.

But his words are drowned out by Brittany as she cranes her neck. “Now see. That’s what I’m talking about. I need a husband like that.”

Behind us, one of the guys working set up scoffs. “Oh please. We all know you’d end up on your back before the appetizers on the first date were even served.”

“Fuck off, Brian,” Brittany snaps back. “We both know you’re a slutty bottom. Besides, what I do for work and how I date are two totally different things. Mostly.” Then she leans closer to me. “Stay away from Brian. He’s a snarky bitch.”

I don’t know if Brian hears her or not as he quips back, “Good luck explaining your career as a prostitute to your super-rich future husband.”

I look at her in confusion. We work at a restaurant…

Brittany lets out a huff. “To make extra money, I work as an escort on the side.”

My eyes go wide, but I press my lips together to keep them shut. Brittany has been a big help, I don’t want to irritate her.

“The pay is really good, and it helps me learn polish,” she says, her nose lifting in the air. “And I don’t always sleep with the guys. Only when they offer me a really big tip.”

“Oh. Right.” I nod like this is a totally normal thing. I don’t mean to judge, but it’s a career I hope never to explore.

The ceremony begins, and I let out a sigh of relief, glad to have an excuse to end this conversation.

The groom steps up to the arch, his perfect suit in complete contrast to his sharp looks and his tattooed hands. He looks bad ass, despite wearing Armani.

That is until his bride appears. Gorgeous in a mermaid wedding dress, her honey hair done up in a simple but beautiful twist, I look back at him to see his eyes light up, a smile making his entire appearance soften.

Brittany must see it too because we both sigh at the same time.

“The estrogen in here has reached an all-time high,” Brian grouses from behind us. “Is this why women put out at weddings?”

“Pig,” Brittany lobs back, leaning out a little further as the ceremony begins. “The groom. That’s Killian Smith. His oldest brother is a real-life duke in England.”

“A duke?” I gasp.

Brittany nods. “Yeah. You’d think the rest of the family wouldn’t work. But they own this major real estate company with some organized-crime ties. The groom is their enforcer. That’s what I hear.”

Is this common Vegas knowledge? I’m good friends with Charlotte Kincaid and I had no idea.

“And the Smiths are close with the Kincaids?” Charlotte has really moved up in the world. Maybe she could set me up on a date…. I don’t need someone rich, but I’d love a guy who was dependable. Stable. And who had medical benefits. Can I put that on a dating app?

“They do real estate business with Mason Kincaid. And one of them, Gris Smith, is marrying Arabella Kincaid.”

Royalty marrying royalty. That I understand.

Brittany scans the small gathering. “But the biggest fish in the Smith family is Triston Smith, Vegas’s billionaire playboy.” And she points at one of the men sitting on the end of one of the aisles.

I can only see the back of him, but his suit is cut to show off his broad shoulders and tapered waist. His hair is perfectly groomed, the back of his neck holding that slightest bit of tan that makes him look even more attractive. “If he’s a playboy, how come he doesn’t have a date?”

“I don’t know, but I know that Veronica Clairmont has been seen on his arm a lot lately. They’ve been on all the gossip blogs.”

Of course he dates a woman with a name like Veronica. It’s sophisticated and sexy. She’s probably blonde too, tall, model-thin, with the most amazing wardrobe.

I let out a long slow breath, refusing to sigh again. I can’t afford to live in a fantasy about scoring a date with a man like that. I’ll have to leave that to Brittany.

I’ve got to keep my head down and my focus on getting my brother healthy. Maybe after that…

“You may kiss the bride,” the justice of the peace calls across the assembled guests. I snap my head back up, setting my thoughts aside. The bride and groom kiss and I have to hold back another sigh, it’s so romantic.

They make their way down the aisle, the guests following them toward the patio doors.

As soon as the guests step outside, we’ll have to turn over the room.