Home > One Exquisite Touch (The Extravagant #2)(4)

One Exquisite Touch (The Extravagant #2)(4)
Author: Lauren Blakely

Five minutes later, I’m dried off and in a fresh pair of black boxer-briefs. I walk past the balcony, stopping briefly to peer outside. Cars, cabs, limos, and buses trundle by on the Strip below, and the lights from the hotel across the way flicker on.

The Extravagant. A gorgeous property with a nighttime display of lights that make it look like its lush lawn is dripping with jewels.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

But this place? I survey the scene below me. Fountains better than the Bellagio’s, a classy, elegant entrance that feels exactly as the name implies—inviting—is better.

This is the crown jewel in my portfolio of hotels, and being second best simply isn’t an option.

I turn away from the view, making my way to the closet.

The dress code for tonight is black-and-white and masquerade.

Easy enough.

Tuxedos are not in short supply in my life. I choose one with tails, because that’s what the occasion calls for. I dress quickly, knot the bow tie, and slide a book inside my inner jacket pocket before grabbing my necessary ticket for admission.

A black Venetian mask.

Hardly anyone knows me yet in this city, which makes the dress code all the better. I like it that way. Keeps everyone on their toes.

Where nearly everyone should be.

With the mask in my hand, I head back down the elevator to the fifth floor. Braxton waits for me, pacing.

I bet he never left.

I hand him my phone. “Call yourself, then you can conference in the producers, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Thank you,” he says, doing as I say, then handing me back my phone and listening on his as we make our way down the grand staircase that leads into the casino.

As we go, I chat with Kelly, one of the producers, bending on a revenue term that was always flexible but standing firm on the length of the residency. With a sigh, but the kind that tells me I’m getting my yes, she says, “That will work.”

“Excellent. We couldn’t be more thrilled to have The Exquisite Show here. I’ll hand you off to Braxton, who’ll wrap up everything. By the way, how’s your father? Is he doing better after that horseback riding fall?”

“So much better. He should be back on Cinnamon in no time. Thanks for asking.”

“Glad to hear,” I say.

“And, Cole?”

“Yes, Kelly?”

“Your offer was very competitive. You were up against a number of other properties, but we’re confident The Invitation is the right hotel for this show.”

I smile. “I’m glad you feel that way, and you’re correct—it’s the best venue, and we can’t wait for you to see what we do with it.” I hand her off to Braxton, telling him quietly to “Finish it off.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, then spins on his heel, and I head past the high-roller tables, taking in the smell of money, the clink of glasses, the slide of chips—chips that’ll land in the house’s favor.

Well, most of them.

I sigh contentedly, like I’m sniffing a good cognac. Better yet, a delicious perfume on a gorgeous woman. This hotel reeks of opportunity, of possibilities that can’t be denied, of corners you want to peek behind, places you want to enter.

When I reach the revolving door, my longtime business partner, Daniel, is waiting for me, leaning against the marble column, a curious look in his light eyes. Like me, he’s also dressed in black tie.

“Did you get The Exquisite Show after I buttered them up?”

“You?” I snort. “I’m sorry, did you offer high then flex on a term, or present them a fantastic offer that benefits all involved?”

“No, but I took the producers out to a delectable dinner on the Rue de Rivoli last month. Or had you forgotten?” he asks as we head to the waiting limo. He is the charming one. No doubt the English accent helps. But I have my own store of charm too. Of the gruffer, more direct variety. We started this company more than fifteen years ago, and have grown it to worldwide acclaim and success. We complement each other—not quite good cop, bad cop, but more like opener and closer. It works, the way we hand off deals, and the way I run the American properties and he handles the European ones, after launching the Asian hotels.

I scoff. “Do I look like a fucking amateur?”

Daniel laughs. “You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Of course I made it happen. That’s what we do.”

“That’s absolutely what we do,” he echoes as we slide into the back seat of our sleek, air-conditioned stretch limo. “And tonight, we should celebrate our wildly successful first week here in Sin City. Especially since I’ll be returning soon to London.”

“Such a rough life.”

“And for you as well, sharing all the riches we make,” he says.

That sparks an idea. A passion, if you will. Something we haven’t indulged in since the last hotel we opened in Bali more than a year ago. “Speaking of sharing,” I begin, stroking my jaw, lifting a brow. “It has been a while since we played our favorite game.”

His eyes gleam. “I was thinking the same thing too. And really, who are we to let Camus down?”

I laugh. Daniel and his erudite quotes. “Camus? Are you really still quoting Camus?”

“It was my degree subject, philosophy.” He lifts his chin and speaks like an orator. “You are forgiven for your happiness and your successes only if you generously consent to share them.”

“I suppose, then, it’s the only way to forgive our great success. But I prefer Twain.” I clear my throat, leaning on the wisdom of the American writer, who sure knew how to tell it like it is. “To get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with.”

Daniel sets his hand on his heart. “Aww. So sweet that you want to share it with me. As they say here on your side of the pond, sharing is caring. But you know what I say?”

“Oh, are you going to quote yourself now?” I toss back, adjusting my cuff links as the car swings onto the main drag.

“Indeed I am. And I say the best way to share is to make a wager of it,” he says, reaching for a bottle from the console and pouring a glass of bourbon. “Fancy a wager, mate?”

I pour a glass too, liking the sound of wagers with the guy who’s been my closest friend since we were roommates in college, building our first business together, an underground card game at school, luring the wannabe card sharks. That business paid for most of my tuition, something I desperately needed it to do back then. Now, in some ways, I need these bets desperately too. Need them for other reasons—reasons Daniel understands all too well. “It’s easy to bet with you, since I clean up,” I say.

Daniel scoffs, leaning back against the leather seat, shaking his head. “I think not.”

“I think so. If memory serves, I’m ahead of you.” I lift the glass and take a swallow, savoring the burn, as I taunt him.

“You say that, Cole. But you seem to forget I have the advantage here.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” I ask, curious, but not letting on how curious.

His eyes glint, and he adopts the cockiest expression. “My accent makes me quite irresistible.”

“Ah, there you go again. Always leaning on the accent. Too bad it’s the only tool you have to use.”

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