My world crashed down. Every plan I had crumbled.

How could a person's dreams be flattened so quickly?

Tears welled in my eyes, and I wanted nothing more than to sit down and cry on the floor. Everything rested inside of the Simon & Fitch corporate office: a career, and ultimate happiness. The most elite accounting firm in the country denied me because I failed the simplest test: being on time for an interview, one that was practically impossible to get.

"Thank you. Good luck," the woman muttered again, shooing me away. I took my cue to leave.

I found my way to the front of the building and stared up at the whitewashed sky. Everything seemed to blur. Always prepare for the worst was my motto and for the first time, I hadn't.

Rejection. I hated the way it burned going down.

No taxi waited for me, and I had no transportation to get back to the Bellagio. Instead of calling a cab or Googling a service, I walked.

Maybe fifteen blocks in high heels would make me feel better? Make me feel pain, make me feel alive, and give me time to learn from the situation. Replay all the steps I should have taken beforehand to ensure that it never happened again. I would drive myself mad with the should-have could-haves.

Maybe coming to Vegas was a mistake?

No. I wouldn't give up yet.

My feet ached. Fifteen blocks turned into thirty.

And I cried until my face turned red. I knew when I walked into the Bellagio, I looked like hell, and the reflection in the elevator proved it.

My Vegas dreams came to an abrupt halt, and I didn't want them to. I had enough cash to survive for a while, but I needed something that would provide sustenance. No dead-end jobs. I wanted a career, something that I could hold on to that was consistent in a world that had no consistency.

Once inside the room, I took off the stupid, sexy shoes that hurt my feet, and lay on the bed.

My new life seemed exciting yesterday.

Today it all went to shit.

I couldn't handle another month on the emotional roller coaster.

As I sat on the end of the bed, I caught sight of the black envelope on the dresser.

I stared at it for a few minutes then picked up the phone.

It was Vegas or Texas.

I chose Vegas.

Within minutes, Mr. Felton returned my phone call and asked if I could meet him at his office in the next thirty minutes.

Only one problem, I had no way to get there.

"Sure. I'll be there as soon as I can, but I have to call a cab becau–"

"No. I'll send Charlie, my driver, to meet you."

Driver?

No use arguing. He wasn't the type of man to lose an argument. I knew that, and didn't even know him.

Instead of insisting, I thanked him and fell back on the bed.

The soft blanket snuggled around my body, and all I wanted to do was relax after my stressful day, but instead, I stood, fixed my hair, and reapplied makeup to cover up the puffiness in my eyes.

My hotel phone rang. The front desk let me know my driver had arrived to escort me. I took one deep breath, and grabbed my resume before leaving.

"Hello, Ms. Downs. My name is Charles Harbrow, but you can call me Charlie." His grayish white hair reflected in the sun, and he had a sincere voice.

"Hi. I'm Jennifer. It's a pleasure."

After a firm handshake, he escorted me outside. A black, glossy limo stretched across the covered driveway. Charlie opened the door, and I smiled at him before sliding across the slick comfortable leather. I could get used to this kind of treatment.

Within minutes, it seemed, I made my way up the sidewalk to a huge building, one larger than Simon & Fitch.

Is it possible that I landed an interview at another successful corporation?

"Ms. Downs, I'll escort you inside."

I allowed him to walk with me to the clear elevator. I had never ridden in one that was totally glass.

"Once on the fifteenth floor, ask for Mr. Felton. Good luck." And the glass doors closed.

I could see everything: the atrium below, the small waterfall in the center, and windows to the offices that lined the walls. I didn't know what kind of business Mr. Felton ran, but it seemed legit, and corporate, and stable. Everything I wanted.

When I arrived at the top floor, a secretary, petite and pretty, escorted me to Mr. Felton's office. In the center of the door hung an engraved golden plaque with Finnley Felton in an elegant cursive script. Big curly Fs… Fancy.

Mr. Felton stood facing the windows in a neatly pressed suit. The black tie complemented the black suit, designer from head to toe. His green eyes met my brown gaze, and I smiled, but only received the ghost of one in return.

Once the secretary left us, I searched the room, trying to take in every little detail: abstract art on the wall, a conference table in the back, and a lounge area in the middle. The afternoon light cast a yellow glow in the room. A large oak desk, which screamed business executive, had two chairs tucked in front. The room looked comfortable, welcoming, but also professional.

The red velvet curtains that overlooked the atrium were jerked closed.

"Hi, Finnley. Thank y—"

"It's Mr. Felton."

My face flushed. How could I be so inconsiderate and unprofessional?

I immediately felt stupid.

"Mr. Felton. Thank you for allowing me to interview. I've brought my resume and a list of recommendations. I'd love to join your accounting team if you'd allow me."

I outstretched my hand and he left me standing there, awkwardly. The smile faded from my face as he leaned against the wooden desk with his arms crossed.

"Take off your clothes." His voice was low and silky.

"Excuse me?" The words hit me like cool water.

I don't think so, asshole.

"The interview has begun, Ms. Downs. If you'd like to join my team, you will do what I say and if you'd prefer not, you are more than welcome to turn around and walk that tight ass through the door, and we can pretend as if this never happened."

The fierce tone behind his English accent made me cower. I froze as I calculated my next move.

What the fuck?

The way he looked at me, exploring my body as if he were undressing me, made my stomach flip. No one had ever observed me that way. With a sprinkle of courage, I searched the blank matter-of-fact expression that covered his face. This man was all business.

As his long eyelashes hit the tops of his slightly sun-kissed cheeks, I closed my eyes to regroup my thoughts, then opened them quickly. I couldn't let my nerves get the best of me. He moved his messy hair behind his ears, and then sat on the desk, waiting, wanting, daring me to make my move.

"Have you decided? Or are we going to waste the good portion of my time daydreaming?"

I swallowed.

All I ever wanted to do was live in Vegas among the lights and fast-paced city. How did I get myself into this? Take off my clothes? I wasn't some cheap whore to be bossed around. The thought of undressing in front of him disgusted me… or did it?

My heart sped as he watched with a lust and want so fierce I shivered. It was now or never, you only live once, right?

I peered behind him and stared at the Vegas strip in the distance. With perfect plump lips, and straight white teeth, Mr. Felton smiled at me. In that very moment, I decided to gamble. I didn't know why because I wasn't much for risks. If anyone was a play-it-safe type of girl, it was me. But in that moment, I wanted to be someone different. I wanted to know the outcome of what waited on the other side. I played with lady luck to see what hand she dealt. Maybe I would get lucky.