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

Most say their hellos to the bride and groom stationed by the door and then move outside where bartenders wait to begin serving them.

I see Charlotte standing next to Mason, his arm possessively placed around her waist, his hand splayed out on the small of her back.

A stab of jealousy makes my chest tight.

It’s not that I wish Mason was mine, I’d just like that kind of support.

To be wrapped in a cocoon of strength like that.

A few guests remain in the room as we stand at the ready.

Finally, when there are only two people left, Triston Smith and an older woman, our coordinator takes a step forward. “We’ve only got fifteen minutes. I think we should start.”

We all rush out, folding up the chairs and setting them to the side. I’m careful not to look at Triston Smith or the older woman he’s talking to in quiet tones. I’m not sure if we should have waited, but we can at least give them the illusion of privacy.

But as Brian and I set up one of the tables and I toss the tablecloth over the top, the woman Triston was speaking with flags me by snapping her fingers.

They’re covered in gaudy rings that click together as she waves her hand.

“You,” she calls over to me, giving me a glare.

“Is there anything to drink besides champagne? I’d prefer a Chardonnay. ”

Triston looks at me too, our gazes colliding. I feel the color rise in my cheeks. If the back of him is attractive, his face is…just wow. Gorgeous dark brown eyes, strong cheeks and jaw, just enough softness in his lips to make him completely kissable. My whole body responds before I drop my gaze.

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll find that for you right away.” Brian huffs out a breath and I’m not sure if he’s irritated with me or her. Was I not supposed to serve her?

I’m in it now so I turn and practically run to the bar. Which is probably for the best.

I have never responded to a man like that, and I don’t welcome the reaction now. All that matters tonight is getting Mr. Stanley to bring me back for another function tomorrow.

I step out to the bar. “A guest inside wants Chardonnay.”

The bartender pours it for me. “This better not be for you.”

My lips part in surprise. “No. I…”

“Just kidding,” he gives me a wink.

First days suck. I rush back inside, looking for the woman who requested it. Instead, Triston Smith stands alone.

I stop dead, my eyes going wide as my tongue swells in my mouth. What do I do now?

“Allow me,” he steps up in front of me. But instead of taking the glass from my hand, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a card. As he takes the glass, he pushes the card into my hand.

“Sir?” I ask, staring down at the card.

He leans close and I get a whiff of his cologne, a light musk that has hints of cedarwood and pine. His voice is low and deep as it reverberates over my skin. “Call me.”

My mouth drops open. He is not asking me out. He can’t be. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t…. Mr. Kincaid has strict policies.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Mason Kincaid step back into the room. I wince. Am I about to be in trouble? I cannot catch a break. “Triston? What’s taking you so long?” he calls across the room.

Then Mason catches sight of me. My shoulders curl. This is all wrong. I’m supposed to be setting up tables. I don’t know Mason very well, but he’s so intimidating and I can feel Mr. Stanley’s glare burning into my back. “Honeyeh, is my business partner giving you trouble?”

“Honeyeh,” Triston repeats. “Interesting name.”

I put his card in my pocket, taking a step back. I need to get back to work before I get in trouble. “It’s Persian. My mother…” My hand flutters as I see Mr. Stanley’s arms cross. Crap. Crap. Crap. “My apologies for dallying, Mr. Kincaid. I will make certain the tables are set very quickly.”

“It isn’t your fault, Honeyeh, I can see Tris was distracting you.” He comes to stand next to me, and my hands clasp together. I’m caught in a trap. I can’t leave this conversation without irritating my benefactor, but I have to get back to work before my direct boss gets really upset.

“Actually, I was about to offer her a job, because I can see she is an excellent employee,” Triston replies before I am able.

My head snaps up, as our gazes collide again. A job? That’s why he wants me to call him?

“She is wonderful. Which is why I can’t allow you to steal her.”

I swallow. Did I think I was caught before? Now I’m stuck between two titans. “Mr. Kincaid has been most accommodating, giving me off-hour shifts,” I murmur. “And thank you for the offer, but I should get back. Mr. Stanley…” I wave my hand back toward the irritated floor manager.

Mason doesn’t notice my hint. “I wish I could do more. I know how difficult the weekend hours are for childcare.”

Mr. Stanley is forgotten. Because the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, Triston Smith, is learning all the intimate details of my life. “My brother is old enough…”

Triston Smith looks at me with an unwavering stare that makes me want to dip my eyes to the floor. It’s filled with something I don’t understand, but it makes me want to squirm. “If flexibility is what you need, I have a position within my house that is very flexible.”

I take another step back, wringing my hands. “There are a great many doctor’s appointments. I?—”

I can’t work for Triston Smith. I’d never get any work done. I’d end up making a complete fool of myself. I’d…

“Call me,” he says and then both men are striding off, leaving me standing alone, my hands still clasped together.

I look up to find Brian and Mr. Stanley wearing matching looks of annoyance. My stomach drops.

Mr. Stanley waves me over, his brows drawn together. “What was that?”

“Mr. Smith asked for a glass of wine.” Not true but close enough.

“So you direct him to one of the servers. You don’t stand there chatting while the rest of the crew fills in for you.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stanley. It won’t happen again.”

“No. It won’t. I don’t need your help tomorrow night, Honeyeh. And you can take the rest of the night off.”

I feel the tears prick at my eyes. “Are you firing me?”

“No. I can’t fire a Mr. Kincaid hire.” So he’s just not going to give me hours. Inside, frustration kicks at the walls of my stomach.

But there is no point in arguing. With a quick nod, I turn to leave, trying not to cry. His “not firing” me is as bad as just letting me go. I can’t pay medical bills without shifts.

I start for the back room swiping at my eyes. Brittany falls in step next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Don’t listen to them. They’re both just pissed you’re too hot for them. And the boss-boss paid attention to you. What’s Mason Kincaid like?”

“He’s fine, I guess,” I say, my voice wavering. “I’m more worried about Mr. Stanley. I really need this job.”

Brittany stops. “Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone.”

I hand it to her, and she types in her name and number. “If you need money, you call me. You could make a killing at my other job.”

I seriously doubt I’d ever take her up on the offer. But I guess if I got desperate enough…

I take the phone back, say goodbye, and collect my stuff.

I just got fired-not-fired. And while I got two other job offers tonight, for entirely different reasons, they are both awful. Rock meet hard place. Which one is worse?

The answer is simple. Call Triston Smith.

My stomach clenches. It’s like jumping from the pan into the fire…