Socialite's Gamble. Michelle Conder

      Aidan stared at the section of road the large car had long disappeared down and knew his mouth was hanging open.

      He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his emails to get to the one that would hold the information about which car company his HR manager had used. Unfortunately he already had over one hundred new emails and he didn’t have the patience to find it.

      Gritting his teeth and silently imagining every way he could slowly dismember the lanky pink-haired waif he would hunt down as soon as he’d completed his business in Vegas, he raised his eyes to the darkening sky.

      There were too many grey clouds for him to locate the moon but he was sure if he could it would be full. Usually, he wasn’t a superstitious person but how else to explain a day that had started out great and gone downhill at a rate of knots. First his PA had quit, claiming he was too hard a taskmaster. Then his trip to Sydney airport had been plagued by an impromptu demonstration against the live export of animals—a worthy cause he might have contributed coin to had they not held him up for so long—only to arrive at the airport to find his plane had mechanical issues and had been grounded. The only available flight out of Sydney for Vegas had one seat available.

      And it hadn’t been first class.

      Not that he was a snob. Far from it. He’d grown up in a low- to middle-class home and didn’t start travelling first class until he had turned his father’s business around in his early twenties.

      No, it wasn’t coach per se that had bothered him but being squashed into a seat his tall frame didn’t easily accommodate and trying to work during what should have been a sixteen-hour flight while others slept or watched movies. Then there had been the small child who kept poking its fingers through the back of the seat and dislodging his paperwork on the tiny tray they called a table.

      He sighed wearily. His currently dishevelled state wasn’t exactly the way he had planned to greet his nemesis, Martin Ellery, but okay, he’d make it work. A part of him had been considering some sort of revenge against this man for fourteen years and it had become all-consuming twelve months ago when his father had passed away.

      Tonight it would happen, and no matter how many obstacles got in his way Aidan wouldn’t countenance failure. Had, in fact, never failed at anything in his life. And he couldn’t fail at this because he had promised his father on his deathbed that he would get back at the man who had ruined his life. And a promise was a promise. Something meant to be honoured.

      Unfortunately the Chatsfield casino house rules were very specific on this night that would pit some of the best and wealthiest gamblers against one another. If you missed the start of play you couldn’t join the game.

      He checked his watch and his agitation grew.

      Just when he was contemplating the possibility of hiring a helicopter a cavalcade of taxis came into view and the line of weary commuters cheered.

      A crumpled but chic businesswoman paused before getting into the first cab. She looked at him.

      Aidan had seen that look on women’s faces plenty of times before and he’d already noticed this one eyeing him off for the past five minutes.

      ‘Would you like to share?’ she asked.

      The offer was for more than a taxicab and they both knew it. But he could allay her of that expectation on the way into town.

      ‘Sure.’

      Thirty-nine minutes later Aidan was clean-shaven, dressed in a black suit and black dress shirt—no tie because he hated them—and paused in the doorway to the Chatsfield Hotel’s prestigious Mahogany Room.

      It was opulent, but he already knew that. Large crystal chandeliers sparkled off polished mahogany wood panelling and a curved bar with fancy velvet stools lined the far wall. The room was already half full and scented with the faint traces of Cuban cigar smoke and the sweet scent of too many perfumes mixed together. It wasn’t his usual world, but looking at him now—carelessly poised for action—no one would guess he was about to destroy another man’s livelihood.

      Ice clinked in a glass and Aidan surveyed the elegant crowd. A few of the men he would play against were already seated at the main table. Martin Ellery wasn’t one of them. Aidan glanced around the room. Where was the slimy bastard anyway?

      And then he saw him and his heart skipped a beat.

      Because he wasn’t alone. He was standing to the side of the bar with none other than the pink-haired waif who had stolen his limousine!

      Aidan’s eyes swept over her. She looked surprisingly classy in a fitted black dress that skimmed her light curves to midthigh. She had on stockings—or would they be those high-topped ones that clung to her thighs and didn’t require a garter belt—what were they called? Stay-ups?—and another pair of skyscraper heels. It took his brain about point four seconds to jump to him seated on a king-size bed with her standing before him in just those stockings and heels.

      Damn.

      To his mind there was only one reason a woman was in the high-rollers’ room of a casino. She was either looking to pick up a rich man, or she already had. That might be a gross generalisation he was sure the women’s libbers would want to slice him in half for but he didn’t care.

      He had been a wealthy man for long enough to know the score. And this woman—this car thief—was on the make, any moron could see that.

      He recalled the uppity curse she had delivered at the airport as sweetly as if she had been blessing his firstborn child. He nearly smiled. Then Ellery leaned closer to her.

      Had Ellery already laid claim to her?

      It wouldn’t surprise him. His last wife hadn’t been dead eighteen months but even before she’d died it had been rumoured he’d moved on. Loyalty was not a word Martin Ellery knew the meaning of, or cared about.

      His and Ellery’s paths hadn’t crossed for about that long and Aidan doubted they’d have much to say to each other tonight. Ellery would know better than to try. He knew Aidan loathed him.

      And for some reason he loathed the way the older man kept stroking the back of his car thief’s hand in a brief caress that told any other male watching that she was unavailable.

      A sick feeling rose up in his stomach. No doubt if she was with Ellery he’d brought her to the game for good luck. Unfortunately it would take more than a statuesque model type to bring him luck tonight.

      His car thief stepped back and gave Ellery a flirtatious smile and Aidan was once again caught off guard by a powerful bolt of sexual awareness so hot it burned through his bloodstream. Watching her closely, he couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about her that drew him so intensely and he was mildly irritated by his reaction. Yes, she had a certain feline grace about her. A certain leggy beauty, but the girl had run off with his hire car and only a woman with no morals, or an over-exaggerated sense of entitlement, would do something like that.

      Neither type appealed to him.

      ‘Can I get you a drink, sir?’

      Aidan turned his head as a waitress stopped beside him.

      ‘No. I’m here to play poker.’ He noticed that Ellery had moved to the main table and the pink-haired car thief with the kissable mouth was now alone.

      He wondered what she’d do when she spotted him.

      Fortunately he didn’t have to wait long to find out. As if sensing his perusal she glanced up and around. He counted to six before her gaze collided with his. Keeping his expression intentionally bland he watched her eyes widen like Bambi facing down a pack of hungry mountain lions.

       Oh, God!

      He’d followed her.

      Cara couldn’t believe it. And he’d gotten into the Mahogany Room which was invitation-only. Her heart raced at the sight of him. Did he know what she had done? That she had borrowed his car? But of course