Claimed for the Master's Pleasure (Guilty Pleasures #5)(7)
He found it unsettling that he could go for years without a thought for himself, or anybody else, for that matter. Yet it had taken one slender girl with an uncanny resemblance to his dead wife to alter that. He looked across at the young woman who’d reached him in just the matter of a few minutes. She was now sitting upright, and sipping from a glass of water. She’d invaded his comfort zone, wrecking his status quo. Jake grimaced. Yeah, he’d take her home and then get on with the rest of his f*cking miserable life.
“Let me take you home,” he offered softly, when the last of the color had returned to her beautiful face.
“No it’s okay, I’d rather—”
“Please. It’s the least I can do for causing all this distress.” He knew she’d resist.
She opened her mouth as if to protest again, but Madeline cut in. “I’d accept, darlin’. He used to be so generous, but just lately he’s like a bear with a sore head.”
“You could have fooled me,” Lia readily agreed. Her green eyes held his. “Very well. I shall inconvenience you. Just like you’ve inconvenienced me.”
Madeline laughed. “That’s the spirit, darlin’. Don’t let the bastards grind you down. That’s my motto.”
Jake shook his head and walked across to his desk. He knew better than to protest. Madeline had a viper’s tongue on her. That was for sure. Another good reason for keeping her employed as his secretary. She could fend off the most determined of crazy gamblers. Just the other day, she’d stopped a high roller Arab sheik from entering his office with a badly charred steak, determined to make him eat it. Apparently, he’d wanted it well done, and a disgruntled chef had served up a burnt offering instead. Just the slightest thing could set off a highly strung gambling man. This particular guy regularly spent seven-figure amounts of money at the tables, but Madeline knew exactly how to sweet-talk him. Needless to say, the chef was sacked. As compensation the high roller was given the best suite of rooms in the casino hotel free of charge for a week. They also paid for a private jet to take him back to Dubai. All this came to hundreds of thousands of dollars. A drop in the ocean compared to what the guy lost at the tables. Jake had been so impressed with Madeline’s ability to smooth the situation, he’d given her a raise.
Jake picked up the telephone. “Frank, bring the car around. I’m on my way down.”
Chapter Five
Lia reluctantly followed Jake from his private office and stepped into the waiting elevator. Still a little unsteady on her feet, she leaned against the interior wall. She hadn’t fainted in years, but then the knowledge that she would lose her inheritance was hardly an everyday occurrence.
“I hope you’re not feeling too bad, Ms. Constantine.”
“No need for the small talk, Mr. Benetti,” she curtly advised him as the elevator doors closed. “As soon as I’m home, I can forget all about you and your seedy club.”
“Very well,” he answered, his face hardening into granite. He kept his gaze firmly from hers. If she didn’t know any better, he seemed reluctant to look at her. Well, good, the feeling was mutual.
His expensive aftershave reached her nostrils in the close confines of the elevator. It annoyed her that she actually enjoyed savoring the intoxicating scent. It seemed to surround her. Out the corner of her eye she covertly studied him. She guessed by his surname and dark looks he came from Italian stock. He was much taller than she’d originally thought. At least six three and broad, too. Jake Benetti looked like a man who took care of himself, and as a personal trainer, she should know. He wore a white, short-sleeved shirt, and had his suit jacket folded across one arm. Covered in masculine hair, his forearms showed the prominent veins of a man who indulged in hard physical exercise. His upper arm development pressed provocatively against the linen sleeves. A gold Breitling watch circled his wrist. No doubt he could afford anything he wanted.
His face remained passive and unmoved. Yet she could just glimpse the faint traces of laughter lines etched around his eyes and mouth. Perhaps he’d been happy once? According to his secretary, Madeline, he hadn’t always been the selfish prick he was now. What had caused him to become so unhappy?
When the elevator reached the ground floor and the doors parted, the noise from the casino hit her. Jake Benetti slipped on his suit jacket. “Allow me,” he said, cupping her elbow in his palm as he began guiding her from the elevator. A jolt of electricity flowed through her arm at his surprisingly gentle touch.
For the first time in her life, Leah stepped into a casino. It wasn’t the opulent, air-conditioned interior that first grabbed her attention, but the sheer noise. Hundreds of slot machines were busily working away. The sound of their infernal bleeping echoed around the large hall. People were transfixed. Their eyes glued to the spinning reels and messages that flashed before them, as the machines ravenously swallowed their hard-earned money. “Dumb idiots,” she whispered to herself.
Someone must have won, because an overweight, middle-aged woman shrieked with delight as her slot machine vomited up huge quantities of coins. There was so many, they spilled out onto the lush casino carpet.
As they crossed the floor, Jake was stopped several times by people eager to shake his hand. She figured he was well liked and respected.
“Mr. Benetti, let me touch you for luck.” An elderly lady with purple hair approached him. She looked genuinely pleased when he shook her hand.