Page 10 of Gambler's Conceit
Shit. Everyone who’s seen Don Alfonso’s favorite mistress since he’d caught wind of her cheating on him knows just how bad she looked. The idea that Seven looks worse…
“You didn’t know that he’d been badly abused when you picked him up,” I say slowly. Had he seen them before or after he’d fucked the kid?
Well. Notkid. I’m willing to bet he’s legal, at least, though he’d probably get carded trying to walk into the doors of Roi de Pique by himself.
“A guy hitchhiking out in the desert, by himself?” Caleb scoffs. “That’s either somebody stupid, or desperate. And those eyes… yeah, he was desperate.”
I hum, then shove a bite of food in my mouth. Chewing slowly, I watch the door to the bedroom, waiting to get a chance to see the boy again for myself. “What’re you gonna do with him?” I ask.
“Give him a job,” Caleb says.
I stare at him, trying to figure out if he means a job at the casino or sex work, when the bedroom door quietly opens.
Seven comes out, wearing just a bathrobe and looking pissed off. “Where are my clothes?”
“In the laundry.” Caleb looks at me. “Did you have somebody send up clothes in his size like I asked?”
“Yep, they’re in the living room,” I report. “All touristy crap, but it’ll fit.” I realize what I’ve said to my fucking boss—who owns the hotel and casino that profits onthat touristy crap—and wince. Friendly or not, respect is due, especially when someone else is in the room. “I, ah…” I run a hand through my short hair before I think about it, mussing up where I’d carefully styled it earlier today.
Gotta be sharp at work, after all. When I’m not sticking my foot in my mouth.
Seven finds the bag with the clothes and pulls out a t-shirt. It has the Roi de Pique logo and a triple-seven design on it.
“Funny,” Seven mutters.
“I thought it was,” I say, grinning even though I know the amusement doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I’m not some softhearted loser, but even I have a heart, and it’s clear the boy is shaky.
I wonder what actually happened in that bedroom.
Seven makes a face at me and leaves the room.
Once he’s gone, I glance at Caleb.
“I forgot we sold that design,” Caleb says, smirking lightly. “Anyway. I wasn’t kidding about keeping him here. He’s not to leave the premises of the hotel or casino. Assign somebody to watch him, warn all the security staff.” He reaches out to pet Miss K, who has decided to sit quietly on the chair next to him. “We’ll probably need to get a GPS tracker inside him at some point.”
I sure picked a shitty day to fill in for Caleb’s usual driver.
“With all due respect, boss… Why?” His eyes narrow, and I hurry to add, “I mean, it’s great of you and all, but that’s a lot for some kid.”
“I like him,” Caleb says, his tone unreadable. “I want to keep him. That should be enough.”
My gut says there’s more to it, but I know Caleb well enough to know he’s said all he intends to say. If Seven wasn’t there, I might have pushed, but it’s not really my place.
Seven reappears, wearing the clothes from the gift shop. He looks like one of the many tourists who have forgotten to bring enough clothes or whose luggage got lost during transit—except he’s a lot prettier than most of them. His hair has been pulled back into a ponytail, showing off the slender nape of his neck, and his lips are turned down in an adorable pout.
I can understand why Caleb wants him, even if I’m not sure about his methods.
“Thanks for the shower and the sex,” Seven says. “I’ll grab Nacho and the rest of my stuff and be going.”
“Without eating first?” Caleb asks, pointing to the food.
Seven’s gaze flits to the table, and while his stomach doesn’t audibly growl, I can imagine it’s a near thing. There’s no telling how long he’d been hiking along the highway, and he’s on the too-thin side as it is.
“I don’t want to impose,” Seven hedges, but he’s already halfway to the table.
Since Miss K is sitting on the chair next to Caleb, the only one available for Seven is the one next to me. Seven narrows his eyes at me before sitting down and serving himself.
“I had Vortex bathe Nacho,” Caleb says.