The Lady is a Vamp

Excerpt from: The Lady is a Vamp

“Checking in today, sir?” asked the front desk clerk.

Royce took a deep breath and wondered if he was making the mistake of a lifetime. The clerk waited with an expectant look on his face. In the background, Royce heard the clinking of coins and ringing chimes in the adjoining casino. If he listened closely, he was sure he could even pick out the thud of dice being thrown and the swish of cards being dealt. Last year, he’d thought Lady Luck had forsaken him, but he’d fought his way back to the top. To walk away now would be cowardly. Right?

“Yes. The name’s Royce Whittier. I’m here for the poker tournament.” Royce pulled out his wallet. He slid his credit card free and tapped it on the varnished wood while the clerk checked his reservation.

“Whittier, old man!”

Royce felt the muscles in his back tense. He recognised that voice. Richard Hopkins, otherwise known as Dick the Prick, head of casino security.

Royce conjured up a false smile. “Good to see you again, Richard.”

“So, are you here for the tournament?”

Duh! Royce opened his mouth to answer, but the desk clerk interrupted him before he could say something insulting.

“Mr. Whittier. I’m sorry for the delay. There was a slight problem with your reservation.”

Royce felt a momentary flicker of panic but kept his face neutral. Shit. He didn’t want to stay in another hotel, although there were a million reasons why he should and only one reason he didn’t.

The desk clerk pushed a hotel folder across to him. “Welcome to Hedonism, we hope you enjoy your stay.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch—”

“I wasn’t sure we’d be able to fulfil your request for the same room as last year, but luckily it was available. Can I assist you with anything else?”

“No, thank you.” Royce gathered up the folder and picked up his bags.

“The same room as last year?” Richard’s voice sounded sharp, suspicious. “Don’t tell me it’s because you think she might come back. If so, you are more pitiful than you look.”

Royce gripped the handle of his bag and resisted the urge to pop Dick the Prick right in the mouth. He took a deep breath. The man was a weasel, but hitting him would only fuel the gossip humming about his return to the circuit. Face burning, he decided the better part of valour was simply not to answer the question.

It wasn’t until he stood staring at himself in the gleaming elevator doors that he realised how haunted he looked. There were large, dark circles under his blue eyes, and his hair— Oh, God, had he really forgotten to get it cut? He reached up to smooth it down and caught the edge of the casino packet with his sleeve. It dropped to the ground and opened, scattering the contents. He scrambled to pick up the electronic key and the coupons for free amenities. He was really going to need that free drink. To his surprise, there was also something else.

A plain white envelope.

The elevator doors opened, and he slipped inside, turning the envelope over in his hand. In bold calligraphy, it was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Royce Whittier.

His heart clenched, and he couldn’t take a breath. Damn it all, it had to be a joke. Before the doors could close, he pushed back through them and looked around. He expected to see Dick’s leering face looking back at him. Instead, he saw men and women with intense expressions, staring at the spinning wheels on the slot machines. Royce looked over towards the lobby. Perhaps there he would see the security manager bent over double, laughing at him. But no one gave him a second look.

It still didn’t mean this wasn’t a joke.

Royce looked down at the envelope in his hand. He slid his thumb under the flap. His hands shook when he pulled out the enclosure. Whatever he’d expected, this was not it. A tarot card. His heart stuttered. The face on the front of it was Kylie’s.

He wasn’t even sure how he got to his room.