The cool desert breeze brushed against my skin as I leaned against the railing of the penthouse balcony, a cigarette dangling lazily between my fingers. Below me, Las Vegas glowed like a living, breathing creature—its arteries made of neon, its heartbeat a constant pulse of music, laughter, and greed. The Strip stretched into the distance, each hotel and casino screaming for attention with flashing signs and promises of fortune.
Fortune… like the one I had just taken from them.
One hundred and thirty million dollars.
The number still made me smirk. I blew out a long trail of smoke, watching it vanish into the cool night air. For a week I'd been living in this world, this body, and already I'd carved my name into the city's heart like a signature. Well… not my real name.
"Aurora!"
The voice snapped me from my thoughts. I turned, cigarette still in hand, to see Tony Stark strolling onto the balcony. His usual swagger was in full display, hands in pockets, like the city belonged to him.
"Aurora Smith," he continued, his tone a little too smug for my liking.
I frowned. "What?"
"That's your name. Aurora Smith," he repeated, clearly pleased with himself. "Nineteen years old. Both parents deceased. Born and raised in Alaska. Now the proud owner of a little trading and investing company—Phoenix Foundation. And apparently under the care of one William Rock, board member of Hilton Worldwide."
I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. "You… did a background investigation on me?"
Tony shrugged, unapologetic. "I like to know the details of a mysterious lady I can't win against."
Ha. I hid my smile behind another drag of my cigarette. Tony Stark really went and dug into my past. Too bad it's a fake. Still… I can't help feeling a little proud. I put so much work into creating that identity—documents, digital records, even mind-controlling an actual Hilton board member to vouch for me. A flawless cover, if I do say so myself.
Before Tony could get another word out, the balcony door slid open again. The hotel manager, an older man with neatly combed silver hair and the faint scent of cologne, stepped outside. He was already sweating.
"Miss Smith," he began, wringing his hands nervously, "we… have a small inconvenience."
My brow arched. "Inconvenience?"
"It's just… well, acquiring over a hundred million dollars in physical cash in such a short timeframe is… ah… problematic," he admitted. "We can, of course, offer alternative payment methods—bank transfer, diamonds—but…"
"But?" I prompted, letting my voice drop into that dangerously calm tone that always made men sweat more.
He swallowed. "The board believes it would be in everyone's best interest to… exchange the winnings for shares in our enterprise. Caesars Entertainment was valued at twenty-nine point five billion dollars as of this year. Your winnings—one hundred and thirty million—would represent approximately zero point four four percent ownership."
My lips twitched. Nearly half a percent of Caesars? Hm… that's interesting.
The manager continued quickly, "This would make you an official shareholder. A permanent stake in one of the most prestigious hotel and casino groups in the world."
I let the silence drag for a moment, watching him fidget.
"Fine," I said at last, "but I want ten million in cash as compensation for the… inconvenience."
His eyes lit up with relief. "Of course, Miss Smith. That's perfectly acceptable. I'll arrange it immediately." He gave a small bow before hurrying back inside.
From the corner of my eye, Tony grinned. "You're really good at negotiating."
I turned to him. "What are you still doing here?"
He puffed out his chest in mock offense. "Of course I'm here. I came to bet against you again."
I rolled my eyes. "Not interested."
I started toward the elevator. Naturally, he followed.
By the time we reached the hotel's grand entrance, the manager was waiting with a black leather briefcase. "Miss Smith," he said, handing it over with both hands, "your ten million in cash."
Before I could respond, Tony slid in front of me like a persistent salesman.
"Come on," he said for what had to be the tenth time tonight, "just one more bet."
My eyebrow twitched. "No."
"How about…" He paused, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Three hundred million?"
I froze mid-step. "…What?"
"Three hundred million," he repeated, savoring the words. "For another bet."
That… was a lot of money. Even for me, that kind of offer wasn't something to dismiss outright. I studied his expression—cocky, confident, maybe a little too confident. But then again… I liked a challenge.
I smiled. "All right. What game do you want to play?"
A deep roar cut through the night—the sound of a black Bugatti Veyron pulling up to the entrance. The sleek machine slid to a stop, and a large man stepped out.
"Mr. Stark!" he called.
Tony's face lit up. "Happy!" He turned to me with a flourish. "Aurora, meet Happy Hogan. My driver and bodyguard."
The two men exchanged a quick handshake before Tony looked back at me, eyes gleaming. "I know exactly what game to play. How about… a race?"
A slow, dangerous smile spread across my lips.
As if on cue, another engine roared—deeper, almost predatory. A red Pagani Zonda F glided into the driveway, the valet practically tripping over himself to park it. He stepped out, bowing slightly as he handed me the keys.
I twirled them around my finger, meeting Tony's gaze. "You're on."