Page 40 of Conning the Billionaire
Kylie said, “Five.”
“Deal,” he said.
Five hundred thousand frickin’ dollars.
And him, for a month.
The loose fabric of her dress brushed over her nipples, and the folds between her legs plumped. “But you can’t whore me out or anything, and I won’t seduce guys for you as part of the con.”
He moved forward just a little, a move that reminded Kylie of a tiger stalking prey. “I wouldn’t allow anyone else to touch you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know I won’t just run off with the money?”
“You won’t. Not when it would be worth so much more for you to stay.”
This was business. Kylie needed to settle down and think. “Really, what are we talking about here? I want to know what my share would be.”
He settled back a little in his seat. “I can guarantee you at least five million dollars, and the job might be worth a hundred times that amount.”
Bullshit.
It was all too good to be true.
He was too good to be true.
And look what had happened last time she hadn’t listened to her warning bells.
She’d better get that five hundred large up front.
Kylie asked, “And what happens if the job goes south? I don’t want to end up in jail.”
He shook his head. “You won’t. As I assume you know, it’s not illegal to convince someone to give you something of their own free will.” He smiled and glanced down at her body before meeting her eyes again. “Even if it’s something you want very, very much.”
“Any decent prosecutor could show a pattern of grift with me, and I assume he could do the same for you. That’s how they make conning illegal, even though conning is just part of the Atlantic City experience. The casinos tell people that they could win a bunch of money, but statistically, they can’t. I mean, look around. Most of these casinos are making profits, except that one chain of casinos that was run so badly that its dumbass owner went bankrupt laundering money for the Russian Mafia. But anyway, the casinos have to pay all their employees and pay rent and pay for the electricity to keep all these lights flashing and pay dividends on their stock, but people think they’re going to be the special one who doesn’t pay for all that. People come here wanting to be conned. Scam artists are part of Atlantic City’s entertainment. We’re just part of the show. But I’m not going to jail for it.”
“I know people. You won’t go to jail.”
“That’s what all the capos say.”
He blinked but said, “This is the offer of a lifetime. With the money I’m offering you, you could invest. You could go to college if that’s what you want, or set up a little store somewhere and sell Atlantic City knickknacks and tee shirts. You might be able to just retire and live your life in Tahiti if that’s what you want. You’d have security. You’d have a life. Any life you want.”
With that kind of cash, Kylie could hire private investigators to find her sister and her mother. She could travel anywhere she needed to look for them.
And yet, she would be a fool to trust the con artist who had scammed her once.
But she’d be an idiot to turn down that kind of money.
Kylie was as hooked as an addicted gambler in front of a broken slot machine, feeding it her retirement savings and yet convinced that the next time she pulled the lever, it would pay out.
“Okay, but I want to see you put the money in the account, and I want it up front, now.”
Micah showed her his phone, which Kylie recognized as the newest version that had just been released a few months before and thus four generations beyond the phone she used. He opened an account in her Kylie Miller name at what appeared to be a European bank, Banque Ammann, Jaggi, & Zug.
He knew everything about her and had a picture of her real but fake Kylie Miller driver’s license, too.
He finished setting up the account. “There. It’s under your name.”
“But I don’t know how to access it,” she said.
