Page 7 of Conning the Billionaire
Rita texted back in a few seconds. I’m at Harrah’s. Real estate convention. Lots of fish in the sea here if pickings are slim at the Borgata.
A few more minutes, a few more texts, and Kylie’s eyes began to burn. The flickering lights on the ceiling and slot machines smeared through the air as tears wobbled on her lower lids, and Kylie slapped one drop away before it could fall on the lines of text on her phone screen.
A man’s velvety voice said, “I beg your pardon, miss. Are you all right?”
The man’s dress shoes beside her leg were brand new and shined, and the fronts of his suit trousers were pressed with a sharp crease.
Attention to detail. Kylie might have to throw this one back.
She didn’t look up as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
He said, “I think you might need this.”
A folded handkerchief intruded into her field of view, nearing her phone. It was his right hand, so she needed to look at the other one before she pounced.
Tears traced hot lines down her cheeks and dropped onto her hand and phone. “I’m not crying.”
The handkerchief encroached farther. “I hate to mention it, but you might be. It’s no trouble.”
Well, if the fish was going to jump onto her hook, she might as well see if he was worth reeling in. The guy had been standing there too long, anyway. Other guys would be put off if she shooed this one away after too long.
Kylie accepted his handkerchief but didn’t look up. “Thank you.”
When she took the handkerchief, his arm rolled over as his hand withdrew, and his watch’s blue face and titanium rim caught her attention.
Even though she only saw a third of the watch face, she recognized it. The timepiece was a Patek Phillippe Complications with a subtle ring of diamonds around the edge. The previous weekend when her mark had been picking out her diamond tennis bracelet, he’d also looked at watches for himself, asking her opinion on which overpriced wristband he should pretend that he might buy. There was no way he could have afforded one of those.
That elegant watch was worth sixty thousand dollars minimum, right there on his arm.
The pawnshops would probably give her twenty large for it.
But she wasn’t a thief.
But he might give it to her as a gift.
That ostentatious watch was a flashing signal to Kylie that this man could afford her little swindle and that he had money to give her.
The man turned away from her and leaned against the wall.
Most guys crowded her at this point or blocked her off to stake their claim.
And then he did it, the bastard. While standing there and thinking she wasn’t watching him, he grabbed his left hand with his right, went for the ring finger, and tugged at his finger for a second before shoving his hand in his pocket.
Cheater.
So he was fair game as far as Kylie was concerned.
Although she hadn’t looked up yet, she got the impression that the guy was tall because his deep bass voice rumbled from far above her head. “Relationship troubles?”
Aha! An opening. “I can’t believe he stood me up again.”
“I apologize for my entire gender.”
His accent, or lack of one, was different. He spoke slowly, but the effect was that every word was purposeful and edited, almost like he was giving a speech in front of a crowd.
Methodical.
Deliberate.
