Hard Luck

Hard Luck
By Vivien Vale
Copyright 2017 by Crimson Vixens
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is
entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.
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Sienna
I take a handful of my thick, long golden hair and twist it tight, securing it in place with
pins.
Then I ease on the wig and adjust the glossy black bangs so they sit at the top of my brow.
I make sure the part is straight, as if it were made by a knife. I smooth down the hair around my
face, moving my head from one side to the other.
I’m assessing myself, critiquing my reflection.
My new hair shines under the overhead light of the hotel’s dressing room. The cut hits
under my chin, a dramatic frame for my face.
My gaze moves down, taking in how the soft gold silk dress I’m wearing hugs my hips and
falls around my legs, rippling when I move. I look as if I’ve been dipped in honeyed ambrosia.
The dress has turned my hazel eyes to gold.
I planned my look this evening especially carefully. I want to walk out of this room onto
the casino floor and into my new life as part of Roger’s Inner Sanctum, the elite escort service
I’ll be working with from now on, and to exude power and mystery.
Of course, it’s my bad luck that my debut has to take place in the back rooms of the
Alchema, the sleek and elegant hotel and casino owned by none other than Leo fucking Asher.
Leo’s come a long way from the boy who raced around the grounds of my father’s estate.
His father worked for us; his mother lost a battle to cancer when he was a toddler. Growing
up, Leo and my brother, Jax, would spend their days teasing me and racing around the grounds
of our California ranch.
We grew older.
Jax went east to boarding school; Leo won a scholarship and followed.
I stayed behind.
When the boys came home on holidays, Jax’s teasing turned into sharp jabs at my expense.
His friendship with Leo had cooled significantly.
Maybe it was simply a case of growing older and growing apart, but I don’t know what
happened. Jax would get annoyed when I’d ask and Leo would ignore the question completely.

By the time they went to college, neither one was speaking to the other, so Leo turned his
attention to me. He would call me Golden, because of my hair and eyes. We would talk or sit
together quietly for hours.
Then, ten years ago, he left California and transferred to Harvard. He only came home to
visit once. It was the summer I turned eighteen.
Three months before my father had to shutter the mines that made the Reids the prominent
family we were.
Five months before the beginning of the legal wrangling that left my family broke.
We lost everything.
Meanwhile, Leo made a name for himself in New York. Opening bars and then clubs, he
had the golden touch because every establishment he worked on was a wild success.
Now, at 30, Leo Asher is a hotel and casino magnate. He not only owns the 55-story
Alchema Hotel in Vegas, but the Nocturne in Monaco.
If I see Leo, I want to be the opposite of the girl he must remember: she was young, gentle,
eager, shameless, and curious.
I try to assure myself that I won’t see him because otherwise I won’t maintain my calm.
Ten years ago, when I was eighteen and hungry to explore the things he made me feel, Leo
ran his finger across my jaw one afternoon.
I let him see me shudder.
He called me Golden, and I opened myself to him.
Gave myself to him.
Gave him everything.
The memory quickens my pulse. I can see the flush on my cheeks reflected back to me in
the mirror, feel the heat on my skin as it reddens before me.
My nipples harden under my dress, the fabric feeling suddenly restrictive, invasive, and
giving me attention I don’t want because I memories I can’t forget.
I exhale and try to push the thought of him out of my head, angry that he still has this
effect on me after all this time.
Control is exactly the thing I don’t want to grant him; it is precisely the thing he has over
me now.
I want control of my body, but my reactions leave me as helpless as if his hot breath was

etween my thighs right now while he looked up at me, searing my soul with that wicked blaze
in his eyes from that night.
“You won’t see him,” I say aloud to remind myself that even if I do see him, he won’t
recognize me because I’m disguised.
It is his hotel. He’ll be busy tending to guests and putting out fires as comes with running a
business.
He won’t recognize the woman I’ve become...beneath the disguise, or through the years.
I reapply my lipstick and draw a sharp nail across the bottom of my lip to catch any color
which may have bled. It’s unnecessary. My lipstick is perfect.
I smile at myself in the mirror.
There’s a knock on the door—two short raps and then the sound of the electronic card
beeping entry.
The door opens and Roger walks into the suite, moving towards the dressing room.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered. His clear blue eyes are sharp under black brows, and his
white hair is clipped neatly. He looks and acts decades younger than his seventy-seven years.
The only concession to his advancing age is the silver-topped mahogany cane he’s forced
to use.
“Hello, Sienna, my darling,” Roger says as he stands behind me.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. His left hand caresses my arm, moving up and down. It’s a
familiar gesture, one that’s meant to comfort…and excite.
I smile at him.
“Hello, Roger.”
“Are you ready for your debut?”
I nod. My heart’s racing so fast, I worry it’s vibrating my skin and he can feel the thrum
through the skin of my arm.
Roger bends and kisses my neck.
“You’re absolutely beautiful tonight,” he says. “They’ll be lining up for you.”
The other escorts told me to expect this.
“He’s harmless,” they all promised.
“He thinks of us as his daughters,” one girl told me.
He’s a pretty fucked up father.

I watch his eyes move over my body. Taking his time evaluating me.
When my eyes meet his, he smiles.
I hold my breath as his hand travels down the side of me and over my curves, fighting to
keep my expression neutral.
“They’re going to love you,” he says. He skips a beat and looks to the door.
This is the opening, the break in his actions that lets me move on and I start to breathe
again.
“Shall we?” he asks.
I nod and slip my feet into black leather heels.
Grabbing my clutch, I follow my new boss out the door, down the hall, and into the
elevator made of glass.
Below us, the hotel is abuzz with activity. The lights on the machines flicker as the noise
from jackpots sound incessantly.
My heart beats fast. I’m nervous… but I’m excited, too.
If I can handle this new job, I’ll be able to do everything I want to do.
I’ll move Dad from California to Vegas and into the Alzheimer care facility near Bonnie
Springs.
Pay off my school loans.
Be able to save for the future.
I can buy myself time to figure out what I want to do with my life.
All I know is working with the Inner Sanctum can give me options.
To me, it feels less humiliating than waiting tables on the strip, where anyone can sit down
at the table and ask you to tell them the specials. Anyone…like Leo.
This is just another job.
Though, of course, it’s not.
Still, it can set me up for a decade.
Let me explore myself.
Let me explore my fantasies.
I’m protected from being uncomfortable, for the most part, because with the exception of
showing up for dinners and events, Roger says I can say no to everything else.

We ride down thirty floors to the mezzanine level.
When the doors slide open, Roger takes my elbow and guides me out.
The entire hotel looks like it’s gleaming. The marbled floors are buffed to a high shine.
The chrome details on the ceiling stretch downwards like stalactites.
“This way,” Roger says, bypassing the escalator to the top of the curved staircase leading
to the gaming room. “I want the entire floor to see you.”
It feels like every eye in the casino is on us. For a moment, the noise from the slots and the
conversations fall mute as the seconds stretch out in a surreal dreamlike suspension of time.
What have I gotten myself into?
Then Roger places his hand on the small of my back and we walk together slowly down
the golden staircase.
No turning back now.
We wind our way through the tourist tables towards an ornate set of doors where two men
with beautifully tailored, monochromatic black suits stand ready. One of the men nods to Roger
and inclines his head towards me.
“Good evening, sir,” he says. “Evening, madam.”
The man then opens the door to another room.
This one is filled with tables where tuxedoed men and elegantly clad women sit together.
Gold and black chips are stacked high in front of most of the men in this room.
The cocktail waitresses aren’t smiling. They all have matching red lips and are wearing
identical body-hugging, short black dresses. They move smoothly, deliberately, between the
tables, deftly staying out of the grasp of high-rolling men sweating over their winnings.
“Welcome to your new office,” Roger says to me with a laugh.
He takes the two glasses of champagne a waitress offers him and hands me one.
“Our clients are among the wealthiest, most powerful men and women in the world,” he
says, using his glass to gesture at the room.
“They come to Las Vegas on business or on a break from business. They’re preoccupied
with glamour and luxury. They want to experience sensuality. They come here to play among the
elites, the crème de la crème.
“That’s where we—well, that’s where you come in,” he says, nodding at me.
“Your job is to make these men, and sometimes women, feel as if they’ve reached the

pinnacle of their lives. It isn’t simply laughing at their jokes and seeing to their needs, but your
success hinges on your ability to make our clients feel as if they’ve arrived at the inner sanctum,
as if the Earth turns with their every desire.
As I listen to Roger, I let my eyes move over the crowd.
“Make our clients feel like they’re the most interesting people you’ve ever met, as if
they’re each more exceptional than the last. You’ll be a player in their beautiful game.”
My eyes lock with an attractive Indian man. He holds my gaze for a beat before nodding to
Roger.
The man’s gaze follows me as he whispers to a beautiful Asian woman sitting next to him.
I note her delicate features as she looks to Roger, then locks my gaze.
The man gets up and he walks towards us, stopping in front of me.
“Hello, Roger,” the man says, “it’s good to see you.”
“Rahul,” Roger says. “Have you met Sienna?”
“No,” Rahul replies, his eyes on me and not Roger. “I’m sure I would have remembered.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say. I look up at him through my lashes and let my eyes linger
over his full lips. I extend my hand and he takes it.
This is part of the job.
This is what you chose.
These reminders do little to calm my fast-beating heart.
Rahul holds my hand a little longer than necessary as he rubs his thumb across my palm,
then finally lets it go.
“I hope I’ll see you soon,” he says to me.
“How is your night going?” Roger asks him. “I see you’re with Salma.”
“She’s lovely,” Rahul says, turning towards Roger.
Rahul looks at me again. “It was nice to meet you, Sienna. Welcome to the Sanctum.”
Salma and Rahul return to their table.
Roger seems pleased. Rahul, he tells me, is one of the wealthiest venture capitalists
working in Silicon Valley. It’s rumored he’ll be running for governor of California.
I wonder vaguely if Rahul knows my brother, Jax, Nevada’s junior U.S. senator.
It’s a good thing I chose to wear a disguise…Jax is already furious enough that I took this
job. If it became public knowledge…

Roger walks over to another man who is elegantly dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark
blue suit. His name, I’m told, is Johnny Engles. He’s a multibillionaire hedge fund founder who
happens to be confined to a wheelchair.
Johnny smiles at me and pushes his long dark hair out of his eyes. He looks at me
curiously.
Perhaps he’s trying to place me.
We exchange pleasantries and I’m not doing so poorly right now. Rahul touched me longer
than necessary, and Johnny was cordial. I think after the variety of introductions I’m sure to get
tonight, I’ll just try to take everything in stride.
Roger pulls me along. I’m introduced to several more men and the female head of a
robotics company. Each one takes my hand and stares at me hungrily.
When my glass is finally empty, I lift my eyes to find a cocktail waitress to refill it.
Instead, I see Leo.
Our eyes lock.
The champagne flute falls through my fingers.
It doesn’t shatter, it rolls along the black carpet that covers the floor in this room.
He’s still beautiful.
Taller than I remember, or maybe it’s that he’s more imposing.
Broad shoulders contained in a perfectly tailored suit. Layers of clothing covering deeply
tanned skin.
My eyes take in his face, prominent cheek bones, square jaw, and full lips.
Leo once said that looking at me could set him at ease or drive him wild.
Now he’s looking at me hard, taking in my wig and dress.
I watch his eyes slide towards Roger, who’s standing a few feet away from now speaking
to a client whose name I’ve forgotten.
Even from a distance, I can see Leo’s furious. His jaw’s set, and his nearly black eyes
narrow.
He’s recognized me.
He’s recognized Roger.
He knows exactly what I’m doing here.
He brings his head down to whisper something to the young woman standing next to him.

She moves away and he stalks towards me.
I bite my lip. I want to run away, but my feet are glued to the floor.
I force myself to take a deep breath.
I can’t run away. How would that look? I need this job.
Who is he to judge me? He’s the one who left me to hold everything together alone.
I’m not the one who ran away then; I won’t now.
Instead, I square my shoulders and jut my chin out.
Leo’s coming towards me.
I’m more than a little afraid of what’s about to happen, but this time, I don’t plan to let myself be
so vulnerable in his presence.