The Kincaids: Private Mergers: One Dance with the Sheikh. Tessa RadleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
I’ll go with the restaurant’s recommendation. And then I want to gamble.”
Rakin couldn’t help grinning at her reckless, single-minded determination.
“I haven’t forgotten—we’ll gamble all night long.”
The hush that hung over the casino was broken from time to time by the clatter of chips and the muted exchange of voices as bets were placed. Silent waitresses glided past with trays of complimentary drinks. By invitation only, this was the domain of the rich, the famous … and the dedicated gamblers. And Laurel was growing to dread the sound of the chips being raked across the green baize.
Around the roulette table where she and Rakin had settled, several stacks of chips were growing to skyscraper heights. But, along with the thin man sitting opposite them and nursing a whisky with increasingly desperate eyes as his pile dwindled, Laurel was losing.
And her stomach had started to churn with disquiet. She’d lost at least five thousand dollars of Rakin’s money in the first ten minutes, and a fair bit of her own after she’d absolutely refused to accept more chips from him. What damage would a whole night’s gambling do to Rakin’s fortune—and her own? “I’m starting to think Grandfather was right,” she told Rakin in a low aside.
“Your Winthrop grandfather?”
Laurel nodded. “He considered gambling a curse.”
“One you hoped to break tonight?”
“Hmm.” She considered that. Had she believed that by winning on the tables she’d be proving that she could break the old taboo? Had she wanted to overturn—even by a small win—the curse of impoverishment that gambling, along with bad investments, had caused the Winthrops to suffer in the past? She wasn’t sure. “I don’t think my reasons were quite so inspired. I was probably more determined to try something that my family disapproved of—totally the wrong reason to do anything.”
Rakin chuckled, attracting a glare from the gambler losing across the table.
Leaning closer to him, she whispered, “But I’ve already lost far more than I intended of the chips you gave me—and what I added.” Laurel gestured to what remained of the stack beside her. “I’m seeing no evidence of any return.”
“Spoken like a cool-headed businesswoman.”
She slid him a searching glance. “I appear to share that trait with you, too—you haven’t even placed one bet yet.”
“I don’t gamble.”
“For religious reasons?”
“It’s bad business. I don’t like the odds—I prefer to put down money when I am confident of a healthy return.”
“Now who’s the cool-headed businessman?”
They exchanged smiles.
The croupier called for bets. Laurel hesitated, then shook her head.
Rakin touched her arm. “We’re disturbing the players. Time for us to move on, I think.”
At Rakin’s whisper, Laurel slid off the stool she’d been perched on, and picked up her purse with some relief. “So much for my grand plan to gamble all night.”
“You may discover your second wind after you’ve had a breather.”
“I doubt it.” She flicked him a wan smile. “What I have discovered is how fast one can lose money on the tables. I never understood how easy it is.” And it had given her some sympathy for the black-sheep Winthrop.
Once out of the stilted silence of the exclusive casino, the bustling, busy vibe of Vegas was back with vengeance. Slot machines chimed all around them, their colorful displays flashing brightly. The sick sensation in Laurel’s stomach started to subside.
They found an alcove in the lounge, and Laurel sank onto a plush seat. Rakin gave an order to a cocktail waitress, then joined her on the wide cushion.
“I think my grandfather would’ve approved of you.”
“The same grandfather who brokered your mother’s marriage to your father?”
Laurel nodded. “The very same.”
“And why do you think he would have approved of me?”
“According to my mother, he did his very best to repair the Winthrop family fortune in any way he could before he hit on the idea of the marriage to a Kincaid. It was an absolute rule in my grandfather’s house that none of his children were allowed to gamble. Mom said that he was furious when his eldest brother lost Captain’s Watch after betting on the horses.”
“Captain’s Watch?”
“The Winthrop family beach house.” It had been in the family since the eighteen hundreds. “Grandfather Winthrop paid Dad a visit shortly after Mom and Dad were married—and Dad agreed to do his best to buy it back. I believe it wasn’t easy, and it cost him a small fortune. But it was worth every cent.” Laurel could visualize the view from the wide windows of the beach house out to the sea. When her father’s will was read, Laurel discovered that her father had known exactly how much she loved the beach house: he’d left it to her in his will. “We spent endless summer vacations there. It’s one of my favorite places.”
“Then you must share it with me one day.”
Before Laurel could respond, the waitress returned with a glass of champagne and a frosted cola on a silver tray.
Laurel eyed the glass, then slid Rakin an amused glance. “You’re not intending to get me tipsy, are you?”
Rakin looked a little uncomfortable, and she instantly regretted teasing him.
“No, no,” he denied as he signed for the drinks. “I wanted to remind you that despite your losses on the roulette table, today is all about fun—it’s meant to be a time for new experiences. I wouldn’t deliberately set out to get you drunk.”
Laurel touched his arm.
“Sorry, that was a joke. It was in very bad taste. Of course I don’t believe you’re trying to get me tipsy. Why would you?”
Laurel’s perception was chillingly acute, Rakin decided. He’d hoped a couple of glasses of champagne would make her more malleable.
She leaned forward, and the movement caused light to shimmer across the bare skin above the strapless black gown. It took willpower not to let his eyes linger on the smooth flesh, the kind of willpower he’d been practicing all night.
“Thank you so much for taking the time to come with me to Vegas,” she was saying, and he was conscious of the feather-light caress of her fingers against his jacket. “I am having fun.”
Ignoring the urge to stroke that pearlescent skin, Rakin reminded himself fiercely that this wasn’t a date—it was a business meeting. And it was past time he put his proposal to her. “Las Vegas has met your expectations?”
She lifted her hand, and took a small sip of the bubbling wine, then set the glass down. She smiled warmly at him. “It’s been much better! And that makes me appreciate your company all the more. I do realize you’re a busy man—and you’re getting nothing out of this.”
He hesitated.
The pause stretched too long, and her smile froze.
“Actually there is something I want to ask of you,” he murmured.
Wariness dulled the sparkle in her emerald eyes. “You want something from me.”
Rakin hesitated, searching for the right words.
“Is it sex?”
He blinked. Sex? Had he betrayed himself moments ago?
“Is that why you invited me to Vegas? Was that all that today was about?” she accused scooting away along the seat. “Softening me up to