Gambling For The Virgin:A Dark Billionaire Romance(3)

By: Dark Angel & Alexis Angel

I have power, and I'm going to use it. I'm not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

I can do this.

It doesn’t feel so bad to be not as in control. There’s a thrill in me now. Somehow I’m taking the biggest gamble I've ever made in my life, and instead of being sick to my stomach, I’m exhilarated.

But when I'm close enough to smell the fresh, masculine scent of him, I’m downright terrified.

Oh, God, can I actually do this?



The lights and sounds of the Wicked Paradise Casino are the sort of dull roar that doesn’t even penetrate my senses. I shove my fingertips against the green velvet of the game board. Finger the ridges of a chip. Clench my fists so hard. Hold my cold glass, my skin drinking in the condensation. The voices of the people around the table fade away, everything does.

Then one voice cuts through everything and it's like I’m feeling things for the first time.

"I'm Lucy, and I want to make a deal." A feminine voice cuts through the crowd inside my casino and directly into my ears.

I hear the sound of another person wanting something from me.

Another person propositioning me. I get women all the time who think they can get money from me, get something shiny from me, all because I have this reputation. One that I don’t do anything to discredit, but that doesn’t serve me shit because I haven’t been with a woman in a very long time. I choose not to be. I have absolutely zero fucking interest in anything that flits in my direction.

So why does something tug at me in this Lucy’s voice? Why does her request make me interested, when it should do the exact opposite?

The air is thicker with the tension rolling off her, the shake in her voice so minor that a lesser man wouldn’t notice.

But I’m no lesser man. I’m as skilled as they come in the arts of reading people, manipulating people, and getting what I want. My skills help me hear the conflict permeating her voice. The air seems thick with it.

Lucy’s hate toward me emanates like dark curls of smoke…and I'm not interested in that. I don’t need more people around me who want something from me and openly despise me.

“If you have just a moment for me,” Lucy says in a voice that is firm, but has the faintest tremble. Why does that bring life to my dead senses?

I also hear the desperation in her voice and wonder what more there is to her story. That’s the part that interests me, and I don’t know why.

The only needs I serve are my own. I learned a long time ago that the only way to keep myself strong and safe is to ruthlessly look out for only me. That’s served me pretty damn well — I own this casino, the Wicked Paradise, and near countless other holdings in my empire that I let my accountant worry about. I spend most of my days in this casino because it's the perfect coffin for me while I drink through every rotten day and everything seems to pass me by.

It's been a long time since I cared about anything more than my empire, which I only treat as my distraction. It satisfies my urge to own things, control them, and build more power.

So why the hell do I care about some honey-voiced girl who walks up to me and tells me she wants something?

Desperation is everywhere, and normally I pay no attention to it unless I’m actively seeking to take advantage of it. But now? Now I find myself wanting to know why she’s desperate, and I have this creeping suspicion that I actually care beyond my own purposes.



I thought those parts of me died when I decided to care about nothing but my businesses. The last thing I cared about tried to destroy me. A wife, a woman, something so far in the past for me that I can’t be bothered to even think about them now. But I can’t help but see how I built everything I have by losing something I never had … and now this girl makes me start to want things that the last woman made me give up on.

I turn to look at her. I have to see what face, what body the enchantress’s voice belongs to. Thoughts I may have had about ignoring her are deleted from my mind. She's fucking gorgeous. The most beautiful legs, luxurious dark hair, and the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Her hazel eyes want to be happy, but her body is tired. The soul behind her skin is aching. I go from not giving a fuck about her plight to feeling an intense ache to touch her. I haven't had a woman in years. I told myself that after my wife, that was a gamble I'd rather not make again. Women throw their pussies at me all the time, but I have no interest in some random fuck.

Now I wonder what the hell long-legged Lucy wants. I can't breathe for a second when she steps closer to me, and then I catch the scent of her like winter and cherries. Fuck, I want to taste her.

"My brother owes your casino a lot of money. I'm offering you me in exchange for you erasing his debts. One night, and you cross out everything he owes, and I'll be keeping him from coming back." Her voice—she's trying so hard to be strong. But there's a pain that brings a waver. She's not asking for enough, and she's afraid I'll say no.

But this woman is offering me the very thing I have to have from her the instant I laid eyes on her. Lucy doesn’t have to know that she turned my normally rational thoughts to cinders, and all I want is to fuck her. I mean, after all, she came here to offer me the one thing she thinks I care about more than anything. She’s telling me what matters to her more than anything.

Of course I’m going to give it to her. She doesn’t have to know what an easy mark I was though … I want to play with her. Knowing I'm going to help her, I want to see her struggle just a little bit more. It'll make it taste even sweeter when I erase everything that troubles her.

"What makes you think I'll just want to fuck you? I can fuck any woman I want, and I want my money." I don't know who her brother is, but if he owes me enough that Lucy is offering me her pussy, I doubt it's a small amount.

"I'm a virgin," Lucy says with passion in her voice. Clearly a cover for the insecurity she faces at being a virgin — and because of that, I know she isn’t lying. That and the fear coming off her in waves. Fear that she's going to get turned down for what I know has to be her last resort offer.

She's wearing what she probably thinks is the outfit to catch the kind of man whore she thinks I am. But there's far too much class in her simple outfit to just be slutty. A pencil skirt that hugs her so tightly it makes me want to tear it off. But if she's going for slut, it should be so much shorter. I find it delicious that she doesn’t know any better. Same with that little peek of flesh at the top of her silky blouse. This is how an attractive woman dresses, but the kind of trashy outfit you wear to get a man to forgive a huge debt is supposed to be much more sinful. It sells me even further on her purity. Either she’s the world’s best actress, or she’s desperate and unsure of what to do. My money’s on what I read, because I haven’t read someone wrong since the last woman I cared about.

So Lucy put on this outfit and drug herself to me, to beg. She's trying to get my interest, and she's managed to succeed because if I don't get Lucy out of those clothes and into my bed, I'm going to fucking lose my mind.

I take a deep breath and feign consideration, lifting my glass to my mouth and drinking down the rum. It should burn going down. It's one of many I've had tonight. But maybe it can be my last when I close this deal. I can't come off like the eager hound I am right now. I'll maintain my own affected smoothness and accept this deal without letting her know just how much I’m on her hook already.

Fuck, what in the hell did I do to deserve such a goddamn angel on long porcelain legs?

Of course. Her brother. He clearly has a problem. So it's Lucy’s pain for her brother that 'earned' me her offer.

I make plenty of money on pain. It's the driver, the currency, and the blood in the veins of my empire.

Lucy steps closer and I see the tops of her thigh-high stockings peeking from under her skirt. It's a tight pencil skirt—sexy as hell on her and the thigh highs are a very nice choice, but it already shows she has far more taste than any of the countless women who throw themselves at me all the time.

The sight of her sexy, wrapped legs is when I know she's walked into my lion’s den and I'm going to devour her. Lucy knows she came to be my prey, but I know she has no idea what's in store for her.

Her hand closes over mine as I let go of my glass. Her eyes capture mine; her head following me down and then up. She's got me, sure, but she has no idea how trapped she is. Her skin on mine makes electricity surge through every part of me that died when I gave up on love. Gave up on sex. But fuck if Lucy doesn't revive me and revive every urge that I’ve had dead for so long. My cock is steel in my suit trousers, but erections were never the problem.

She's the first woman to make me give a single goddamn fuck about anything other than money. The sadness and pain in her calls me to her; her sorrow mirrors my own. I know that I’m only going to bring her more sorrow. She doesn’t want this. I’ve accepted the monster that I am, and I accept it again now. If the price for having Lucy is destroying her, I’ll accept myself for the monster I am again. I get what I want at any cost.

"Sure, I'll erase his debt,” I tell Lucy, letting my eyes cascade over her face again.

Her hands squeeze mine, and there's a grateful look in her eyes. And fear. So much fear. Her eyelashes flutter for a second. She inhales sharply.