Bet On It: An Age Gap Billionaire Office Romance
Ajme Williams
PROLOGUE
Analyn
Men are scum. Especially Chase Tolliver, the man I was sure was going to propose to me. I was right. Oh, did he ever propose to me. Except it wasn't marriage. It was an open relationship.
As it turned out, we'd been in an open relationship practically since we started dating. I just hadn’t known it.
When he’d suggested the new arrangement, we were at a fancy restaurant in Chicago, my heart beating a million miles a minute, at first in joy and then in shock. Did he really mean that he wanted an open relationship? Did it go both ways?
I pointed toward a handsome man sitting at another table and asked, “So if I wanted to sleep with him, you'd be all right with that?"
He gave me an affable smile. "Sure. That's the point, isn't it?"
I wasn't sure what hurt more—that he didn't feel sex should be monogamous or that there was no sign of jealousy at the idea of my sleeping with another man. Both were bad. Both indicated that I wasn't in the type of relationship I wanted.
"And what if I didn't want that?" I'd asked him.
He didn't say anything at first, but that pause told me everything I needed to know. He hadn't been faithful while we dated. He wouldn’t be faithful in a marriage. A marriage he hadn't even proposed. Chase wasn’t the man for me, after all.
I put my napkin on the table. "Let me save you the trouble. You’re welcome to screw around with all the women you want, but when you need a plus-one or a girlfriend, don't call me."
I stood and walked away from the table to leave the restaurant. When he didn't call after me, I began to wonder if my reaction was exactly what he wanted. He’d set me up to break up with him so he wouldn’t have to break up with me. Coward.
Men are scum and cowards.
The best way to get over a breakup is to spend time with your best friend. Unfortunately for me, my best friend lived in Las Vegas while I was in Chicago. No worries. I simply packed a bag and hopped a plane and was now spending a week with my best friend, Betts. In the few days I'd been there, we had done all the things required to get over a man, which involved copious amounts of ice cream and wine. We were having such a great time, she invited me to be her roommate if I wanted to move to Las Vegas. I was seriously considering that idea.
Unfortunately, tonight Betts was on a date with her boyfriend, Paul. They had an on-again-off-again relationship that had been off when I arrived, but then he called earlier tonight, and it appeared that they were on again.
She felt bad leaving me at her place alone while she made up with Paul, but I assured her that it was okay. I wanted her to be happy, and if Paul was the guy who was going to make her happy, then she needed to see him.
After she got all dressed up and headed out to meet Paul, I putzed around her condo for a little bit, but I didn’t like being alone. I started to think about Chase, and instead of thinking what an asshole he was, I got down on myself.
What was wrong with me that I wasn’t enough? I determined the best way to combat self-pity was to go out and live it up. I was in Las Vegas, Sin City, after all.
There had to be a reason the motto of Las Vegas was, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Surely, that meant I could let go of my inhibitions in an effort to forget Chase and not worry about any ramifications. That sure sounded better than hanging around Betts’s condo feeling sorry for myself.
I did a quick Google search looking for the best places to go that weren't about gambling, or at least only about gambling. In Las Vegas, I swear there were slot machines in the bathrooms. But I didn’t have any money to lose, so I just wanted a nice club where I could drink and let my hair down.
I decided on the Golden Oasis. According to Yelp, it was the coolest club because it included tech features like holograms with famous celebrities of Hollywood’s golden era. I dressed for a night at a club, which included a red dress that clung to my ample curves, styling my long, dark hair into thick waves, and putting on enough makeup to suggest I was interested without being trampy.
I studied the result in the full-length mirror in the guest room of Betts's condo. "Eat your heart out, Chase."
I ordered a rideshare that dropped me off in front of the club. I walked in and was pleased to see that it was as cool as the Yelp reviewers and images had made it seem. On one wall, a hologram of Marilyn Monroe in her iconic stand over a vent moved until air blew her dress out. A few drunk men joked around like they were trying to look up her dress. Women took selfies of themselves modeling the same stance as Marilyn.
The drunk men notwithstanding, the place had a young, hip, yet sophisticated vibe. I patted myself on the shoulder for making a good choice.
I made my way to the bar, taking a seat on the stool. I should have ordered something exotic, but I couldn’t think of anything offhand so I started with a plain white wine.
As I drank, I watched the activities in the club. A crowd filled the dance floor, where new arrangements of old standards played. More holograms of Hollywood’s shining stars shimmered among the dancers.
I finished my wine and ordered a cocktail that included cranberry juice and vodka and continued to watch the crowd. I could tell the people who were single, looking for a good time, apart from those who were couples.