Page 2 of Conning the Billionaire
Kylie knew all about con artists.
Their reservation was at the B Prime Steakhouse for eight o’clock. They passed the bouncer where the amber marble floor turned to carpet, and he winked one fleshy eye at them and went back to scanning the milling crowd for college freshmen who didn’t believe they had to be twenty-one to gamble in New Jersey and were trying to crash the blackjack tables.
Slot machines bearing the brand names of TV shows and movie franchises whirred and clanged, setting off flickering lights as they scuffled for the attention of gamblers. Senior citizens in cargo shorts trudged between the slots while rowdy upper-classmen frat boys who’d passed the ID check gamboled toward Texas Hold’em tables. Executives in business suits held comped drinks and strolled between the games, sometimes alighting at high roller tables, sometimes heading toward the sports betting room or one of the five-star restaurants.
A stockbrokers convention was in town.
Perfect.
The maître d’ seated them at a stand-alone table near the middle of the room just as they requested, and Kylie kissed Rita gently on the lips before they sat down. They’d coordinated their scarlet lipsticks.
They each ordered eight ounces of the A5 Kobe beef steak, plus side dishes, which meant their bill was going to be about six hundred dollars. The bottle of wine would bring it to over a thousand.
The steak was truly amazing, the beef practically melting on her tongue before she could even chew it.
When they’d eaten their fill, they toasted each other with their wine glasses.
Kylie said, “To us. Happy anniversary, darling. It’s been an amazing three years.”
Rita looked uncomfortable. “Yes, Gloria. About that.”
Kylie drained her wine and exaggerated how tipsy she was, leaning with her chin on one elbow and unfocusing her eyes. “What is it, Teresa?”
Rita’s shoulders, bare in her strapless gown, slumped. “I’ve got a flight to Los Angeles leaving in forty minutes. I have a new job as a high-power entertainment lawyer lined up there.”
“We’re moving to Los Angeles?” Kylie asked breathlessly, lifting her eyebrows and smiling. “Are you going to be a vice president like you’ve always dreamed?”
“Yes, but not us, Gloria. Just me,” Rita told her.
Kylie looked confused and blinked rapidly. “I—I don’t understand.”
Rita folded her napkin but held onto it. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t working out for me. It’s been an amazing three years, Gloria, but I think it’s time we went our separate ways.”
Kylie gasped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought we were so happy together.”
Rita leaned over the table and shushed her. “Don’t make a scene. People are staring.”
Other people in the restaurant had turned to watch them, especially the table of five men wearing business suits just a few feet away.
Kylie’s eyes burned. Hot tears wavered on her lower lids, turning the chandeliers into wavy streaks of light. “Did you bring me here to this expensive restaurant just so I wouldn’t argue about you breaking up with me?”
“Gloria, don’t make a fuss. I thought we deserved one last great night together, that’s all.”
Tears dripped out of Kylie’s eyes, splashing on her cheeks and then forming mascara-tinged drops on the napkin in her hands. “I don’t want one last great night with you. I want the lifetime you promised me. I thought we were going to be together forever, but it didn’t last even a few days past my twenty-first birthday.”
That got the stockbrokers’ attention. One man elbowed the guy next to him.
Rita hissed, “That’s the problem with us. You’re so young, so naive. I can’t believe you’d come to a five-star restaurant like this and get drunk.”
“I knew that I wouldn’t be enough for you. When we first started dating, I knew that a hot, kinky bisexual like you wouldn’t be satisfied with an unsophisticated waif like me. I should have known.”
Kylie sobbed into her white linen napkin, but she glanced up when Rita stood up from the table. She’d worn waterproof mascara with just a bit of regular on the tips, so her eyes should be slightly smudged like a damsel in distress but not like an evil clown.
Rita said, “I’ve already made my decision.”
“No, please don’t leave me,” Kylie beseeched her. “You’re the love of my life.”
Rita shook her head, her glossy black curls swaying around her slim face. “I had my things moved out of our apartment while we were here in Atlantic City.”
