Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes #3)(131)

I wonder what she will make of it. She once told me a shocking thing about the gorgeous black torch performer Lena Horne, who was allowed to stay at The Flamingo as long as she was not seen at the casino, restaurants or public areas. When she checked out, her bed sheets and towels were burned.

Over the massive, gold guitar door handles are the words: When this house is rocking, don’t bother knocking. Come on in. And it really is rocking in there for Jake. There is no check-in for Jake and me. He is greeted by name by a smiling host and we are quickly and efficiently whisked past the awesome, fifty-five feet digital screen stretched behind the reception desk, straight to the elevator bank and up to the Provocateur penthouse suite.

The Provocateur suite is like no other hotel room I’ve been to.

We are greeted by walls covered in black vinyl embossed to look like crocodile skin in the foyer. In that deliberately darkened hallway there is a birdcage, large enough and strong enough to hold a grown man and a whipping cross! With handcuffs!

On our left, silhouettes of naked women start swaying provocatively in the shower as motion sensors pick up our movements. There can be no doubt that the design is fetish orientated and I turn to look at Jake.

Beyond the foyer are claret walls and sophisticated shiny black furniture and more dominatrix accessories. We are shown the heated plunge pool in the balcony and taken to the bedroom with three beds pushed together, presumably perfect for orgies. The other master bedroom has an enormous four-poster bed and a mirrored, trellised ceiling. The man shows us how to work the 3D projector system behind the bed to make it throw patterns and themes onto the walls.

At the flick of a button the shades come down, the lights dim and two women wantonly writhing are projected onto the bed. It is so over the top and creepy-crazy I start giggling. My laughter doesn’t deter our host. We are taken to a secret vault full of toys, equipment and costumes for sex play.

When he is gone I go to stand by the ceiling-to-floor windows. The view is fabulous. Down below, the swimming pool is heaving with beautiful bodies on purple floats. I turn around to look at Jake.

‘Like it?’ he asks.

‘Are you trying to tell me something Fifty Shades-ish?’

He laughs. ‘No f*cking way. I don’t need to beat a woman to get my kicks. I just thought you’d enjoy this more than the Venetian. It’s all Liberace style opulence, chocolate-covered strawberries and beluga caviar served by butlers with white gloves over there.’

‘And you don’t have to pay for any of this?’

He grins, at once boyish and delicious. ‘Nope.’

‘How come they treat you so good?’


He shrugs. ‘My claim to fame is that I once lost a whole million at their baccarat table and they’re hoping I’ll repeat that lack of judgment,’ he says dryly.

My eyes widen. ‘One million? Dollars?’

‘Yup. I used to be what they call a whale.’

‘What’s a whale?’

‘At the lower end a high roller is someone who bets between a thousand to five thousand dollars a hand. A serious high roller would play upwards of five grand to about twenty, twenty-five thousand. A big high roller would spend between twenty-five and fifty thousand.’ He stops and smiles. ‘And then you have the whales. Whales start at seventy-five thousand dollars a hand.’

‘And you were one of them?’

‘I was. But now I only come two, maybe three times a year.’

‘God!’ It’s hard for me to even think of anyone blowing that kind of money on the roll of a die.

‘But I still get the eight o’clock reservation, the cabana, tickets for the best concerts in town, and… I get to be imaginative with my requests. So far the management has always said yes to everything I’ve asked for.’

‘Wow! What kind of things are available?’

‘Lunch on a yacht, a helicopter ride somewhere, a game of golf with Tiger Woods…’

‘What have you asked for this time?’

He smiles slow and full of meaning. ‘Lingerie. I have asked for the most expensive, most beautiful lingerie they can find.’

I can’t help it, I flush hard. I can feel my cheeks flaming. ‘You didn’t.’

‘I did. Go and have a look.’

For a few seconds I don’t move. We just stare at each other. Then I turn around and go to the bedroom. At the door I stop and look around. He is watching me, his eyes unfathomable.

By the bedside I see the white box with a black design on it. I open it and it is full of whispers of baby blue lace: a half-cup bra, a thong, suspenders with white bows, and nude stockings. There is a card with a message to open the cupboard. I open the cupboard and gasp. A real cheongsam. Not the cheap thing that looks more like a Hong Kong waitress’s uniform and with a dirty slit that runs all the way up to the crotch like I wore at the club, but the softest, most beautiful, pure white Chinese silk brocade. I run my fingers over the pretty little blue flowers. My grandmother would love this. I turn around and Jake is standing in the doorway.

‘It is so very, very beautiful,’ I whisper. I am so touched my voice shakes.

‘Good. You can wear them all tonight.’

‘Thank you.’

His eyes darken. ‘Thank me later.’



‘You look beautiful,’ he tells me that night.