Page 3 of King of Desire (Kings of Las Vegas #2)

CHAPTER TWO

Honeyeh

Darius stares at me as I smooth down the floral sundress I’ve put on for my interview. “You’re wearing that?”

He’s fifteen and he thinks he knows everything. “Yes. I’m wearing this. What should I be wearing to an interview, smarty pants?”

“Not that.” He wrinkles his nose. “You look like you’re dressed for a date.”

That comment actually makes me bite my lip. Shoot. I definitely don’t want to give off that vibe.

I can’t believe I’m even contemplating working for Triston Smith, my reaction to him was just so…

Then again, I don’t I have a choice. I look at the dress again, turning in the mirror.

I’m guessing the women Triston dates would never wear a floral sundress. They’d have on something posh and sophisticated like silk or crepe, paired with designer shoes.

I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. I’m a college student whose last job was as a barista.

I’m also an RA in the upper- classmen dorms at the University of Nevada, but I don’t get paid for that.

It’s more of an exchange. Free rent for helping drunk people get in their rooms when they lock themselves out.

I wore this dress to that interview too. I really ought to pick up something more professional, but I have no idea where I’d come up with the money. “I don’t have anything else,” I say with a sigh. “It’ll have to do.”

Darius glares at me in the mirror. “You should buy something.” I think his guilt at all the bills I have to pay for us, for him, frequently comes off as anger, so I leave it be.

Instead, I collect up my purse and adjust the strap of my sandal. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” I snap back. “But since you’re so grown up, how about helping me calm my pre-interview jitters instead of biting my head off?”

He winces. “Sorry, Honeyeh. I’m just…” He hangs his head, and I get it. He hates that I’m always scrambling for money. But this is what people do for the people they love. They help, even when it’s hard.

Walking over to him, I push up on tiptoe. He’s thin as a rail but taller than me. Gently, I kiss his cheek, my hand on his skin, making his jaundice even more noticeable. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” he says, hesitating. “And Honeyeh, don’t take the job if the guy is a real asshole.”

“All right,” I say, but I already know I’ll take any position Triston Smith offers. It’s not that I want to work for him. I can’t think of a more complicated relationship to have with my boss. But I can’t afford to say no.

Heading outside, I walk the three blocks to Clark County Road and hop on a bus.

Once I get off at the stop closest to the address Triston gave me, I think it’s going to be a fifteen-minute walk to his house.

His staff manager gave me his address and I mapped it all in advance just to be sure I’m not late.

I’ve left myself plenty of time, in case the bus is running off schedule, or it has more stops than I think, but my foot still bounces with nerves as the bus moves through the heart of Vegas.

My hands clasp and unclasp in my lap as the bus stops several times, picking up mostly tourists.

I look down at my dress, frowning. Darius is right. I should have worn my white Oxford and black pants. Even though Triston has already seen me in that outfit and knows it’s my waitressing attire, it still looks more professional than this.

I finally make it to the stop on the west side of the city limits and get off the bus.

Pulling out the map I printed out from my bag, I try to get my bearings.

I’m no good at following walking GPS directions.

Figuring out my direction, I take a quick look at my watch.

I’ve still got a half an hour before my appointment.

I try to keep my steps slow, to keep from sweating in the mid-afternoon sun, but I feel perspiration break out on my back. Lifting my hair off my neck, I duck into the shade which is only a small help.

Summers here are brutal, but at least they’re dry.

I do remember the humidity back in Iran, when we lived along the sea.

I miss the water. But Vegas has become our home, and with all of Darius’s health issues, I’m grateful to live here in the States.

We lost our mom to a heart attack two and a half years ago.

Darius is all I have left, and I’d do almost anything to keep him healthy.

I reach Triston Smith’s house, the large iron gate blocking my entrance but not my view.

The house is massive, a pristine white structure with beautiful sloping roof lines, sitting amidst sweeping grounds. It looks like a fairy tale.

A voice sounds through a speaker. “Can I help you?”

“Honeyeh Karimi here for an appointment with Mr. Smith.”

A buzzing sounds and I push at the metal door within the gate. It opens to allow me to enter, clanging behind me as it closes.

Walking up the driveway, I can’t help but ogle the beautiful landscaping that is so lush and green despite the Vegas heat. When I reach the steps, the door swings open, an older woman in a knee-length black dress standing in the opening. “Honeyeh?”

“Yes,” I say, wondering if I should shake her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“And you. The staff calls me Mrs. Raith. Please come in.”

I do, the cool air delicious on my skin as I enter the massive entry with marble floors. “This way.” She points down a hall at the other end of the grand entrance and then begins walking so that I fall in step behind her.

I press my hands to my sides, keeping my steps light, as we enter the hall and move to the back of the house. She opens a door, revealing a small office, and gestures for me to step inside and take a seat.

I do as she requests, smoothing the back of my skirt as I sit.

Is Mrs. Raith conducting the interview? Will I work for her? Relief makes me wilt in the chair as she circles the desk and takes a seat.

I have no idea how Mrs. Raith will be, but not working directly for Triston will make this so much easier. I feel the tiniest twinge of disappointment, but I shut it down. This arrangement will be much healthier. In fact, if I could not see Triston at all, it would probably be best.

“So, Honeyeh. Mr. Smith has recommended you to join our house staff. Do you have any experience in the service industry?”

“Yes,” I nod my head. Smiling. “I was a barista and a waitress.”

She gives me a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I meant more of the maid variety.”

“Oh.” My cheeks heat. Of course that is what she meant. Trying to swallow down my embarrassment, I keep going. “I did have to clean as a barista, including complicated espresso machines.”

She nods. “Good. That’s good. Perhaps we can place you in the kitchen as support staff.”

My brow furrows. “Is that the open position. On the kitchen staff?”

Mrs. Raith’s eyes widen like my question has caught her off guard. “Not precisely. It’s just a good place to start here at the house and then we can promote someone else into the open position.”

That makes sense and I nod as I let out a long breath. Mrs. Raith seems kind and considerate. “I’m a quick learner, Mrs. Raith, and a hard worker. If you choose to hire me, I won’t let you down.”

Her smile softens. “I’m sure you won’t. Mr. Smith did mention that you might need some flexibility for doctor’s appointments?”

I nibble at the inside of my cheek. “I’m afraid so, I hope that’s all right. My brother is on the list for a liver transplant, but until the surgery happens…” And even after, should he be blessed with the opportunity, our situation is liable to be intense for a while.

She waves her hand. “It’s no problem. We frequently keep a few more staff members than essential so that we’re never lacking.”

I sigh with relief. “Thank you, Mrs. Raith. I’m very excited about the possibility of working here.”

She stands, holding out her hand, and I stand too, surprise surely making my eyes wide. Is that it? Is the interview done already?

“Congratulations, Honeyeh, and welcome to the staff.”

“Thank you so much!” I can hardly contain my excitement.

“If it’s all right, I’m going to have you start today.”

“Of course. That’s fantastic.” I draw in a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I was so nervous to come here but starting right away helps me so much.

We shake hands and then she reaches for a folder and hands it to me. “This is all the paperwork I’ll need. If you wouldn’t mind completing it today, I’d be grateful. Please take your time, you’re welcome to use my office for as long as you need.”

“Of course. Mrs. Raith, I’m very excited to join the staff, thank you again.”

With a final tilt of her chin, she walks around the desk and out of the room, leaving the door open.

I watch her go, and then turn back to the desk, a pen sitting neatly on top of the folder. That was the shortest interview I’ve ever had.

What’s more, Mrs. Raith could not have been nicer. My shoulders slump with relief as I take a moment to flop back into the chair, my eyes closing.

But I quickly sit back up, drawing in a deep breath of cleansing air before I slide the folder across the desk, grab the pen, ready to begin.

I’m not even off the first page when I see my perspective salary listed under my name. A small cry falls from my lips. Its nearly triple the hourly rate I made at Starbucks.

My eyes actually mist with tears. With that kind of money, I can catch up on the medical bills and start saving for the surgery.

The debts are deep enough that I can’t find a surgeon who’ll perform the operation without a hefty down payment.

But with money like this…

I stiffen my spine, moving on in the paperwork. This is my first chance to prove to Mrs. Raith that I can be efficient and hard working.

This job could make all the difference, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep it.