Page 4 of Hitched to My Enemy
After she hung up, I stared at my reflection again. Political pressure. Rumors about financing. The commission wanting me to find dirt rather than simply determine the truth.
I was caught between competing agendas, powerful people with their own motives, and suddenly the dress felt less like a gift and more like a weapon—though I wasn't entirely sure who was wielding it.
An hour later, I stood in the elevator at the Jade Petal, my heart hammering against my ribs hard enough that I worried the other passengers might hear it. The dress fit like it hadbeen designed specifically for my body, which should have been impossible unless...
Unless Easton Hardwick had an even better memory than I'd given him credit for.
The elevator doors opened to reveal the most elegant party I'd ever seen, and there he was, standing near the entrance as if he'd been waiting for me. When our eyes met across the crowded ballroom, his smile was pure sin wrapped in expensive fabric.
I stepped into the controlled chaos of Vegas high society, acutely aware that I was walking into whatever trap he'd so carefully prepared.
"Game on," I whispered to myself, and entered the arena where my career would either reach new heights or crash in spectacular flames.
Chapter Two
Easton
I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, adjusting platinum cufflinks as the Vegas sun painted the sky in shades of amber and rose. The Strip stretched out below me—a river of light and ambition—but my mind wasn't on the view. It was entirely focused on Harlow Clarke and the dangerous game we were about to play.
Tonight had to be flawless. Everything I'd built, everything I'd reconstructed from the ruins of my humiliation three years ago, hinged on the success of this evening. The Jade Petal's grand opening wasn't just a party—it was my resurrection, my proof that Easton Hardwick didn't stay down when knocked to the ground.
The elevator chimed, and I turned to see Bryce Delacroix emerge, tablet in one hand and his perpetual cup of coffee in the other. My CFO and oldest friend looked impeccable as always in his charcoal Tom Ford, but I caught the tension inhis shoulders, the slight tightness around his eyes that spoke of shared pressure and sleepless nights.
"Final numbers," he announced, setting the tablet on my granite kitchen island. "Pre-opening reservations are at ninety-seven percent for the next six months. High-roller commitments exceeded projections by thirty percent. The media coverage alone is worth eight figures in publicity."
I nodded, scanning the figures with satisfaction, but my attention kept drifting to the window. Somewhere down there, Harlow was preparing for tonight. The champagne gold silk I'd chosen would fit her perfectly—I possessed an almost photographic memory for details, especially when it came to her.
"She's here to destroy us," Bryce said quietly, following my gaze toward the glittering Strip.
"Let her try." I turned back to him, straightening my tie with deliberate precision. "Harlow Clarke thinks she's solved the equation of Easton Hardwick. She thinks she understands exactly what I'm capable of."
"And you're going to prove her wrong?"
"I'm going to prove I've evolved beyond her expectations."
The memory struck like a blade between my ribs—three years ago, standing in my smaller casino's office as Harlow served that damned shutdown order. The way her hazel eyes had remained steady and professional while she systematically dismantled everything I'd built. The exquisite humiliation of watching investors flee like rats from a sinking ship, of seeing my reputation crumble with each headline about "compliance violations" and "regulatory oversight."
The local news had called it "the fall of a Vegas golden boy." The gaming industry had whispered about my arrogance finally catching up with me. But I'd rebuilt myself from thatwreckage, forged something stronger in the flames of failure and disappointment.
Tonight wasn't just about proving the Jade Petal deserved its license. It was about proving I'd learned to play this game better than anyone, including her.
"Easton." Bryce's voice carried a warning I'd heard too many times over the years. "Whatever you're planning with her, tread carefully. You've invested too much to let old wounds—"
"This isn't about wounds." I moved to the window again, watching neon signs flicker to life as darkness claimed the desert sky. "It's about showing Investigator Clarke that some rules were designed to be bent. And that not everything fits into her neat categories of right and wrong."
Bryce remained silent for a long moment, then sighed deeply. "Just remember, we need her signature to get our final license. Don't let whatever power struggle you two have brewing jeopardize that."
My smile turned sharp as steel. "Trust me, Bryce. By the end of tonight, Harlow Clarke will see exactly what I want her to see. Nothing more, nothing less."
***
The main ballroom of the Jade Petal had been transformed into a glittering wonderland that surpassed anything the Strip had to offer. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic rainbows across walls draped in midnight blue silk, while towers of champagne glasses created geometric sculptures throughout the space. Fresh gardenias—flown in from Hawaii that morning—perfumed the air with their intoxicating sweetness, and a world-class jazz quartet provided the perfect soundtrack for the most crucial night of my professional life.
A-list celebrities mingled with politicians and media moguls, their laughter blending with the crystalline clink of champagne flutes and the whisper of designer fabrics. Everyone who wielded power in Vegas was here, along with influential figures from Los Angeles, New York, and beyond. I'd leveraged every relationship, called in every favor, and invested a fortune to ensure this evening would be legendary.
I navigated the room like a master strategist, moving from cluster to cluster with practiced charm. A carefully timed comment about future expansion here, a shared laugh about Vegas hospitality challenges there, always keeping conversations light while systematically building alliances that would matter long after the last guest departed.
"Easton!" Senator Patricia Voss approached with her trademark political radiance, her husband trailing behind with his own well-rehearsed expression of engaged interest. "This is absolutely breathtaking. You've redefined elegance on the Strip."
