Page 31 of Conning the Billionaire
Kylie ran back to the bedroom, and they followed her in. The blond Italian’s black roller bag still sat on the luggage stand by the door to the bathroom, and she flipped open the lid.
Empty.
Not even a scrap of paper or dust.
“No way,” she whispered.
“That’s enough,” the manager said. “No more stalling. You’re coming with us.”
The security office was a tiny gray room with a desk and two hard chairs, obviously meant to resemble a police interrogation room.
Kylie flung her purse on the desk and waited there, still wearing the previous night’s dark blue gown and no underwear.
She sat there for two hours, stewing in yesterday’s sweat, until she finally got pissed enough that she plucked her phone out of her purse and made a phone call.
She said, “I’m in the holding pen at the Borgata, sir. No, it was nothing I did. I’m being framed. I swear to God.”
A deep male chuckle emanated from her phone. With a Philly accent, the guy said, “That’s what they all say. I’ll take care of it. But this is going to cost you.”
“Yeah, I know. Whatever. Just fix this, please. And my name is Kylie Miller, sir.”
“I know what you say your name is.”
A chill swept over her. She’d counted on being able to run with the name Kylie Miller if she’d ever needed to.
Ten minutes later, a different security guy came in and locked the door behind himself.
He sat down on the other side of the desk, bracing his bulk on his hands as he lowered himself to the chair. “What proof do you have that you didn’t give your QR entry code to that guy after you checked in?”
No niceties, and she wasn’t being released. Dammit.
However, they’d obviously seen the guy from the previous night on the footage of the past week because they were asking about him.
That was a relief. She’d worried that the guy hadn’t gone to the room until she was with him. “You can’t transfer those between phones. Even a screenshotted image won’t work.”
“You can if you forward the email before you download it.”
“Fine.” And good to know. “I can show you my MGM Rewards mobile app that shows I was playing blackjack and slot machines last night. It’ll show that I don’t have a room rented on it.”
The guy scowled. “Maybe you have two different accounts.”
Kylie rolled her eyes at him. “I’m a local. I’m not going to split my rewards between two different accounts.” She glanced at his security badge. “Besides, Kelvin, I think we can agree that I’m just not that smart. That guy is trying to frame me.”
“What’s his name then?”
“John Miranda,” she said, hoping she’d snapped that out quick enough. Because that asshole had never told her his goddamn name. “At least, that’s what he told me his name was. But evidently, he scammed us both.”
The security guy squinted at her. “Miranda isn’t a last name.”
“Sure, it is. Like, Miranda warnings. The cops have to advise you on your rights to remain silent or have a lawyer present, and it’s called a Miranda warning after the guy who took it to the Supreme Court. What, you’ve never watched Law and Order?”
Kelvin’s weak jaw moved back and forth as he ground his teeth. “You did this. You did this, and we’re going to prove it.”
“Sir, I really didn’t. I don’t know how that guy I met last night managed to do all this and frame me so thoroughly, but he did. What you’ve got is that I was in a suite that I didn’t reserve or check into and a fake ID with my picture. I know that isn’t a real driver’s license because, as I told the other guy, the biometrics are all wrong and that’s not my name.”
And it wasn’t her real fake ID, either.
Kelvin the security manager scowled harder at her. “If that’s not your legal name, then what is?”
