Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 145803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
After the visit from Daniel Wallin, his security crew and his doctor, she had to laugh over the invitation to play poker in the hotel’s big tournament. Mitzi had been right. There was always an ulterior motive. And why not? Wallin was in the business to make money. He’d come to her room, appearing to be nice, but making certain her injuries weren’t severe enough that she could claim to a jury later that she had been incapacitated enough to be awarded millions. His lawyers probably wanted to know the alcohol level in her blood. She hadn’t taken a drink, so that wouldn’t help them. She didn’t really blame Wallin for that either. He probably got those kinds of claims all the time.
She had given her share of interviews and posed for cameras with the other finalists, but as fast as possible, she had always made her way to her suite. She didn’t like the spotlight, and she never would. This tournament only went to show her that, as wonderful as the accommodations were, online was the way to play for her. She could win big money without the glare of the spotlight.
Park, on the other hand, just like the celebrity gamblers, thrived on the attention. That continued attention from fans allowed them to be popular with the hotels—that and the fact that they were excellent poker players. Each of them had managed to create a persona that appealed to the public and knew how to use social media to their advantage.
“Good for his career,” Leo pointed out. “Park probably added another hundred thousand screaming fans to his platforms.”
Vienna found it hilarious that Leo knew anything at all about social platforms, but of course, he would have to.
“Good for him,” Art said. “His companies most likely put up the money for him so he’s not out a penny.”
“I’m heading up to my room,” Vienna announced. Deliberately, she touched the bruise on her head to remind them before they could protest. “I know I should go in and talk to the media, but I’m really exhausted.”
“Do you want me to escort you up?” Leo asked.
She liked the man. How could she not? “I’ll be fine. Charles was a one-time thing, and the hotel put enough security guards on me that I think the rest of the hotel is at risk.”
Leo laughed. “At least they’re taking your safety seriously.”
“That they are. See you later.” Vienna gave a little wave of her hand and made her escape.
The moment she was off the floor and heading toward the elevator, she was surrounded by security. She recognized the two guards who had come to her rescue the evening before. They rode up in the elevator with her.
“I didn’t have a chance to thank you yesterday, and I didn’t get your names, so I couldn’t send you a note.” She looked pointedly at their uniforms. The taller of the two had a nametag proclaiming his name to be Simon. His partner was Harold.
“No need for that, ma’am,” Simon said.
“I know you don’t think so, but you got there so quickly. I was scared. The man in the suite next to mine is older, and I was afraid if Charles was able to get up, he’d really hurt Mr. Forsyne too.”
The elevator glided to a stop, the doors opening. Harold held the doors and Simon stepped out first, looking up and down the hallway before gesturing for her to come out. The two security guards walked her to her door.
“We’re glad you both are all right,” Simon said.
Harold murmured his agreement as she inserted her key into the lock and pushed open the door. The moment she was inside and the door had closed, she kicked off her shoes and stripped fast, not willing to be caught helpless in the aftermath of her card-playing fatigue. Pulling on comfortable clothes, she used the restroom, grabbed a bottle of water and the phone to set beside the bed, and caught up her cell phone to call one of her friends. She put the call on speaker so she wouldn’t have to hold the phone. She could feel lethargy overtaking her, but she simply let it this time, lying back on the duvet and pillows.
“Hey, Shabina,” she greeted one of the five women she counted as her family in Knightly.
Shabina Foster owned the Sunrise Café in Knightly, a popular place the locals knew to go to for the best food. Shabina made cooking an art. She didn’t offer a huge menu, and it changed weekly, sometimes daily, depending on Shabina’s mood, but it was always amazing. Her mother was from Saudi Arabia and her father was American. Her father owned one of the largest and most respected companies in the world for putting out oil well fires, which was how he’d met Shabina’s mother.