Harrison has lost.

As soon as the cards are turned he's on his feet, explaining the unexplainable.  "Unbelievable!  There's no way I thought he had a boat there, baby.  I thought for sure I had him, and then all of our troubles would have been solved.  I'd have won all my money back in one hand!"

All of our troubles?  He convinced me to come with him on this trip using a lie about working on our relationship, but ever since we've landed he's spent all of his time at the poker tables.  He lost money yesterday, and I'm pretty sure he went back after I fell asleep and lost some more.

Harry is still talking, still trying to explain, but I'm too stunned to listen as I stare down at the table and the stranger sitting across from us.   The dealer has shoved the huge pile of chips toward him in a messy assortment of hard, plastic, primary colors, but he's ignoring them as if they aren't worth thousands of dollars.  Instead, he's watching me behind an expressionless mask of blue eyes and blond stubble.  I wrench my gaze away and back to Harrison.  He's still talking.  Still explaining.  I haven't heard much, but I don't need to.  I've had enough.  I don't need to listen anymore.  I've spent too long listening in the past.  I can recite the excuses by heart.

"You gambled me away," I say simply.  It isn't any more complex than that.

He shakes his head, still in denial over what seems so undeniable to me now.  We're done.

"Lila," he begins, but I shake my head again.

"Don't."

I can't imagine a single thing he can say right now to change the way I feel.  In my mind, the last few months have been leading up to something like this.  An inevitability that I've been trying to ignore, but now that it's here, I already feel strangely calm about.

Of course, in my mind I hadn't imagined it would go down like this.  Thousands of miles from home, having my boyfriend of the last seven months casually gamble me away to a complete stranger for the equivalent of a few thousand dollars.  Yet in a way, it makes sense.  At least in terms of my relationship with Harrison.

But it leaves me without a plan forward.  Our flight home isn't until Monday morning and it's only Friday night.  I have no intention of going back to the hotel with Harrison now.  It would give him the wrong idea.  This needs to end, and I have no intention of letting him talk me out of it again.  This betrayal is the final straw.  He's hurt me for the last time and, despite being at peace with the decision, I'm still so angry I want to hurt him back.

I look over at the other player.  He's still watching me with that handsome but expressionless face.  Still ignoring the pile of money in front of him.  Other people are watching as well, many of them whispering to each other.  I just want to get out of there.

"What's your name?" I ask, finally addressing him.

The whispering grows louder, a few people exchanging questioning looks as if my question is any more ludicrous than the rest of the last 15 minutes have been.  The corner of his mouth curls up into a little half smirk, and his blue eyes continue the smile.

"Chase," he says.  "Chase Anderson."

"Okay, Chase Anderson.  Get me the hell out of here."

CHAPTER TWO

"I'm not sleeping with you," I say as I step inside the doorway of Chase's penthouse suite.  It's actually the second time I've said that to him, although the first time I remember there being more conviction behind the words.  It would be easier if he wasn't so gorgeous.  And I wasn't so angry.

The first time had been in the elevator on the ride up.  It was right after I wondered how crazy I was to be alone with this handsome stranger who had essentially just won me in a poker game, and right before two young guys got on and acted like they were in the presence of greatness.  What the fuck was that all about, anyway?  They knew his name and even asked him to sign the back of a receipt they had on them.  Said they were big fans.  Of what, exactly?

Chase's hotel room is bigger than my apartment back home, and clearly the decorating budget greatly eclipsed the $500 that my roommate and I had scraped together.

The room Harry and I were staying in had a bed and a desk that were fighting for space next to a small window.  This room doesn't even have a bed or a desk.  Those items must be in one of the other rooms which branch off from here.  The only things in this room are couches, carpets and paintings which face a big flat screen television on one wall and curtains lining the edge of another.

Chase is tapping on a touchscreen pad on an end table, and suddenly the curtains begin to pull themselves back to reveal a breathtaking view.

"Wow," I breathe.  I can't help but be impressed with the sight and take a few steps toward it.  The windows are floor to ceiling and we're looking out over the brightly lit Las Vegas strip.  The MGM Grand and Monte Carlo hotels are closest, but I can also see the sprawling City Center down below.

"I never get tired of seeing this."

I jump at the sound of his voice which is close enough to my ear that I can feel the hotness of his breath as he stands behind me.  He's closer than he should be.  Closer than he needs to be.  I'm surprised that I don't have an overwhelming urge to step away.  I should.  Harrison and I haven't even been split for half an hour.

Truth is, things haven't been working for a while.  This trip was against my better judgment, but he argued that it would be good for us to get away.  That it would bring us closer together.  It was obviously just an excuse for him to go and feed his addiction.  Things had been headed in this direction for a while.  I don't even remember the last time he and I had sex.  Even longer since we've made love.

"Would you like a drink..." he hangs the sentence in midair, as if waiting for me to fill something in.

I turn to look at him, his blue eyes probing into me immediately as he waits.  I suddenly feel my cheeks redden as I realize what he's waiting for.

"Lila," I finally say.  Shit.  I haven't even told this guy my name.  Where is my head tonight?

"Beautiful," he smiles.  His teeth are straight and white, a traditional Colgate smile.  Is there nothing about this guy that isn't perfect?  Blond, blue eyed, perfect teeth, apparently rich and possibly famous.  What the hell was he thinking trying to buy me in a card game?  Or win me.

Is there a difference?

"Uh, I'm not sure if that's a good idea.  I was just thinking maybe I should go."  I wasn't thinking anything of the sort, but that's what I should be thinking.  He's still closer than he needs to be.  Close enough that I can feel the heat from his body caress mine.

He raises an eyebrow.  "Where?"

Is it that obvious that I have nowhere to go?

"You're from out of town, right?"  He shrugs as I nod.  "Tourists are obvious sometimes.  But I assume you've been staying with... your boyfriend, right?"

I nod again.  He has a casual arrogance, like he knows everything already.  Problem is, he's dead on so far.  He seems to know a lot more about me than I know about him.  Although now that I've been staring at his face it is starting to seem vaguely familiar.  Certainly not Hollywood A list familiar, but I've seen him somewhere.

"You aren't going to go back to him, are you?  After all, he did gamble you away in a poker game."

"I recall you being part of that wager," I snap back.  I'm not defending Harrison, but I feel sensitive about it.  Embarrassed, really.  I take a step back, putting some distance between us.  I decide to push my anger back at him.  "Do you often make bets to win girls?"