Page 4 of The Bluffing Game

“Well, that’s a pity,” I say demurely as I step past him. “I guess you’ll have to keep looking.”

I continue making my way to the back of the bar, but I can hear him laughing behind me. Like our exchange amused him. I would bet a hundred dollars that he’s some Goody Two-shoes accountant or something, getting off on playing a big man with strangers. I try to dismiss him from my thoughts. Sure, he is handsome and slightly witty, and he smells amazing, but I don’t need to waste my time and energy on some random man. I need to focus and find my billionaire.

Chapter 2

DALTON

Beep, beep.

Dalton, Molly quit.

Beep, beep.

Izzy says she can’t come in tomorrow.

Beep, beep.

Can I get a raise?

Beep, beep.

If we run out of straws, what do I do?

Beep, beep.

Can I leave early? A hot guy just …

I power my phone off and slip it back into my pocket. I should not be reading my text messages while getting a massage. It’s not good for my stress levels. Running a restaurant is hard enough without getting stupid messages from incompetent people. Granted, the person running Mama’s Kitchen for me tonight is my totally annoying younger sister, Lucia. Who, from the sound of it, is doing a shit job. I really need to hire some additional help. My sister, though I love her, is not a businesswoman in any sense of the word. I’m about to pull my phone out to message her back when I realize that the masseuse is getting on top of me and whispering something in my ear.

“Just the tip doesn’t count,” the blonde from the bar that I’d met earlier whispers in my ear as she continues to massage my shoulders. “No one gets pregnant from just the tip.”

I don’t even bother to open my eyes as she tries to convince me to take her to bed. How long has she been talking? I totally missed the fact that she was coming on to me. Shit! This is the last thing I need right now.

“Plus, I’m on the pill.” She’s practically begging me now, which is kinda pitiful. It’s so pitiful that I would have left already, if not for the fact that her hands are like magic, lightening the tense knots in my shoulder muscles as she continues to knead her fingers into my skin. “I thought we came back to my place to have some fun.” Her voice is breathy as it changes to a whine, and I immediately stiffen up—and not in the good way.

I knew this was a mistake.

“What are you thinking, Dalton?” She stops the massage and rests her head next to mine, like we’re some sort of couple, about to snuggle. Which the hell we are not.

“Not much, He …” My voice trails off. Fuck. I can’t remember if her name is Helen, Heather, or Helga.

We only flirted for about twenty minutes before she convinced me to come back to her place for a massage. She said she’d trained in Sweden, and like a fool, I believed she really wanted to relieve my stress that night. I should have known the accent was false when it went from Scandinavian to British to Southern in the space of one minute.

“I’m so horny. Why won’t you fuck me?” She pushes against my shoulder, and I roll onto my back. I open my eyes and look over at her. Her baby blues are eager.

She’s a beautiful woman. Too beautiful for her to be begging me to screw her.

“It’s not you.” I run my fingers through my hair and attempt to sit up, but she quickly slides her fingers to my chest. I grab her hands and move them off me. “I really thought you were only asking me here for a massage.” I sit up and pull out my wallet. “I have cash for the massage. I think we had a misunderstanding tonight.”

I try to ignore the fact that she took off her top at some point and is standing there in a silky, see-through bra. A different man would cave, but I’ve been around beautiful women my entire life. I have zero interest in becoming physical with her. Not just because she seems desperate and unstable.

“But I just want to feel you inside of⁠—”

“I’m sorry, Heather, but I’m just not interested.”

I really hope I used the right name, but I can tell from the way her expression changes that I’m wrong. She jumps up off the bed, grabs her shirt from the ground, and pulls it on.

“It’s Ellen.”