Sins & Needles(79)
And, even though Camden had bought it with stolen money, even though we were only dressing up so we could clean what he stole, this cemented my Cinderella comment. I felt like a princess.
“They’re beautiful,” I told him, taking the box from his hands, our fingers brushing against each other. “Thank you. I guess I better go make myself look pretty. I think I’ll put my hair up.”
He beamed and stepped away. “I hoped you might.”
I gave him a quick smile and ushered myself into the bathroom with my makeup kit. The minute I shut the door in the spacious, tiled room I exhaled loudly. My heart had been hammering a mile a minute back there, the tension building until I almost couldn’t take it. It was like the moment I decided to trust Camden was the moment I wanted to hand my body over to him again. I supposed the tattoo was the first step.
I pinned my hair up in sections then applied some classic makeup. Black winged liquid liner and red lipstick sealed the deal. The earrings were the world’s most beautiful accents, sparkling from the bathroom lights and reflecting on my shoulders like dancing pixie dust.
When I came out, I saw Camden by the bar, pouring a bottle of champagne into two flutes. I thought I’d heard the pop of the cork while I was in there.
He looked…well there was no point describing how he looked. It would never do him justice. It was Camden in an extremely well-tailored, suave and sexy tuxedo. The sheen of the black lapels, his bowtie coupled with his spiked-up black hair, his nose ring and the glasses—he was one bad-ass spy. I had to keep my teeth pressed together to prevent my jaw from dropping to the floor.
“Well, well, well, Mr. Bond,” I said as I slinked toward him.
“Well, well, well, Ms. Watt,” he said, handing me my champagne flute. The bubbles sparked and fizzed between us. “I think this town is about to get its hands dirty.”
We clinked our glasses.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dressed to the nines, Camden and I turned heads in every casino we entered. The cashiers and dealers regarded us with some sort of respect instead of the usual cageyness that would put us on their Suspicious Activities Report. We looked the part and acted the part, and that, combined with never cashing in amounts more than $7000 and actually playing more than a few games, let us slide under their radar. Of course, we didn’t stay in one casino. We went to the Cosmopolitan next door to start, then the Monte Carlo, then down the other side of the strip to the Venetian, the Palazzo, and the Wynn before ending at the Bellagio. We saved the best for last.
Though my leg ached and itched something fierce from the tattoo, and my feet hurt from the rhinestone straps, we made it through by cashing in $25,000 in total and cashing out $24,000 in cashier’s checks. We lost only $1000 during our gambling exploits which took us from casino to casino so that no one would be the wiser.
By the time we shuffled into the elegant Bellagio, it was one a.m. and we were tired out of our minds. Red Bull and coffee only went so far, even with our drinking kept at a minimum. We had spent most of the night on edge, and with midnight flying past us—my Cinderella hour—we were letting our guard down a bit.
I was done with gambling for now. We had cashed out, but Camden wanted to play a few rounds of blackjack with some of his own money. Not a lot, just enough to have some fun. It was nice to just sit beside him, perched like the perfect femme fatale, and yell at him to say “hit me” or not. Plus the blackjack players at the Bellagio were the perfect subjects for people watching. When I wasn’t lurking over Camden’s shoulder or making sure my nipple ring wasn’t poking through the lace inserts, I was watching everyone else, wondering if they too had a story to tell.
“Are you thirsty I?” I asked him, crooning into his ear as he raked his chips toward him. Oh, I also had a lot of fun with the whole pretending we were a high-rolling couple thing. It meant I got to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, breathe in the skin at the back of his neck, and shoot him suggestive glances from across the room. It was all an act and it wasn’t an act.
“Last one, I promise,” he said, slipping me a twenty. “Something that’ll kick my ass for the next hour.”
I took it with a sly smile and slinked off through the maze of tables and machines toward the circle bar. I say slink because it was impossible to dress like I had and not feel like Jessica Rabbit.
Almost every casino has a circle bar in it, usually smack dab in the middle of the main floor. It’s a great place to meet people without paying a cover, especially with the high turnover rate. I had picked Bellagio’s circle bar because the bartender took a liking to me and was giving me strong drinks for the cheap—I’d even scored some Red Bull off him for free. It was a little out of the way from Camden’s table, which was hidden in the back behind rows of slot machines, but if we were ever out of each other’s sight for too long we’d text each other. Yes, I gave him back his phone privileges.