Page 3 of Conning the Billionaire
“But I can’t go back to my Fifth Avenue penthouse in New York City without you. It would be too quiet. Ever since my grandfather died and left me the family fortune, you’ve been there with me. Who will I spend my trust fund on if you leave me?”
“Thank you for a wonderful three years, Gloria, but it’s over between us.”
Rita dropped her napkin on her plate and stalked out, her lush butt wiggling under the red beaded fabric of her dress as she swept out of the five-star restaurant.
Kylie covered her face with her napkin while crying quietly, but she left room around the edges to watch what was happening.
One of the guys who’d been watching them from the next table over jumped out of his seat and sprinted after Rita. “Hey! I say, there. Miss, wait up!”
Another of the men stood and approached Kylie, who was still weeping into her napkin.
A man’s voice asked, “Are you all right, darlin’?”
“I’m fine,” Kylie said, crying piteously into her napkin and not looking up.
A man’s suit trousers and shiny saddle-brown shoes stood beside her chair.
He asked, “You sure you’re all right?”
At the edge of her vision, the man wrenched off his wedding ring and shoved it into his pocket.
Cheater.
And that meant he was fair game.
Kylie choked out, “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern, but it’s not your problem.”
“Breakups are rough,” the guy said. “I know when I got divorced, it just broke my heart.”
Kylie nodded, still holding the napkin over her face and letting the tears roll down her cheeks. “It hurts so much, and I don’t know what to do. I just feel so lost. I shouldn’t have had so much to drink.”
“Well, that’s awful,” he said with a Texas drawl.
“I don’t even know what to do tonight,” she said. “I’ve never been to Atlantic City. I just turned twenty-one, and I’ve never gambled before. I don’t know how to play poker or anything.”
The guy crouched down beside her, looking in her face. He looked like he was in his early forties with a calculating stare in his green eyes. “You don’t need her. I’ll show you around Atlantic City tonight.”
The waiter encroached, offering the bill on a silver tray.
Kylie looked up at the man, horror rounding her eyes and mouth. “Teresa always held onto the credit cards. I don’t have one.”
“You can put it on your room number,” the man said.
Kylie stared wildly around the room and clutched the table’s edge like she was on the verge of a panic attack. “We’re not staying at the Borgata. Teresa said we had to stay at the Ocean Resort because it was more elegant.”
The waiter suggested, “You could pay with your phone? Apple Pay or Android?”
Kylie fluttered her hands as if she were panicking. “I’m hopelessly technophobic. Teresa always took care of that. I should have known she was just using me for my money, but I’m so naive sometimes.”
“It’s not a problem,” the man said, smiling at her. “I’ll take care of this.”
He gave the waiter his credit card for the thousand-dollar supper without a flinch.
Perfect.
“Oh, thank you,” Kylie said, dabbing her tears and letting her eyes glisten at her knight in shining armor, and she pressed her hand to his arm. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
The guy hesitated and then asked her, “So, you think you’re a lesbian, huh?”
