King's Passion

Victoria closed her eyes. No doubt her father truly believed that, but she knew better. Right now, it was just three hundred people. By tomorrow, it will be all of New York when the news hit Page Six. Then again, maybe the whole world was already twittering and Facebooking about the whole debacle.

“It looks like I really know how to pick them,” she moaned.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her mother delivered another squeeze. “Please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

Well who else was there? Marcus? Hell. She didn’t even know where he was.

Her cell phone rang and vibrated on the nightstand.

Victoria’s head popped up off her mother’s shoulder and she stared blankly at the phone.

“I’ll answer it,” her father said, moving in to swipe up the phone.

But the idea of him tearing a chunk out of Marcus’s hide before she had a chance didn’t set well. “No! I’ll handle this.” She seized the phone from her father’s hands and ignored the disappointment written on his face.

“Hello,” she answered coolly.

“Uh…Vicki?”

Victoria pulled the phone away from her face and frowned at it. No one called her Vicki. No. One. Rocking her neck from side to side, she cracked a few stiff bones in her neck and then placed the phone back up against her ear. “Marcus, where in the hell are you?”

“I’m still in Las Vegas.”

“Did you miss your flight? Did you forget that we were supposed to be getting married?” Her voice rose with every question. “How about, did you forget that we have over three hundred people here—waiting?!”

The phone line fell silent.

“Marcus?!”

“Um…no.” Marcus cleared his throat. “I didn’t forget. That’s sort of why I’m calling. I, uh, I’m not going to be able to, um, marry you.”

This time, she let the phone go silent.

“Vicki?”

“What is it with this Vicki crap?” she snapped. “Stop calling me that.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“And what do you mean you can’t marry me? Do you know how much has gone into this wedding? The time? The money?” She started pacing back and forth, wishing that he was actually there so that she could wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze it until his eyeballs popped out.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. But, you see, I met this wonderful woman out here and…well…we got married last night.”

Victoria stopped pacing and, once again, the phone line went silent.

“Vicki—I mean, Victoria? Are you there?”

Frankly, she wasn’t sure whether she was there or not. This certainly felt more like an out-of-body experience. “What do you mean, you got married last night?” she hissed so low that it sounded like she was pouring venom into the phone.

“HE WHAT?” her father roared.

Undoubtedly Marcus heard her father’s roar because suddenly he developed a stuttering problem. “S-see. Wh-what had h-happened was…D-Delicious and I—”

“DELICIOUS? You’re dumping me at the altar for some trick named Delicious? Have you lost your damn mind?”

“WHAT?” her father continued to thunder. “Give me that phone.”

Before Victoria could really unload on her second-rate Urkel-wannabe fiancé, her father successfully grabbed the phone from her.

“NOW, LOOK HERE, MARCUS! Clearly you’ve either had too much to drink or you’ve smoked something that has cooked your brain. You must have forgotten who you’re dealing with. From now until you’re six feet under, I will take great pleasure in personally destroying you. Do you hear me, young man?”

Trembling with anger and humiliation, Victoria turned and stormed out of the master bedroom and went in search of a good stiff drink—or a whole bottle. At this point, it didn’t matter.

The twins and her mother shuffled behind her. Each of them told her to calm down and tried to assure her that everything was going to be all right, while her father continued to rant and rave into the phone. Three quick shots of Jack Daniels later, her nerves started to settle down, but her fury was just getting started.

Chapter 4

One week later…

Quentin Dewayne Hinton was rocking Eamon’s last nerve. This simple babysitting project was backfiring more rapidly than he’d anticipated. Sure, he knew that his older cousin was a spoiled rich kid, but he was unprepared for Q’s total disregard for reality. The man had managed to arrange his life to be one giant party. Since he’d arrived, he’d basically hired most of The Dollhouse’s dancers to perform at his over-the-top private parties on the top floor of the Bellagio. Who in the hell rents the entire top floor of a casino?

Now Eamon was up to his ears with complaints from customers, because he didn’t have enough women working the floor or the upcoming slew of bachelor parties. And where were his two brothers? Apparently nowhere since they were clearly dodging the fifty calls he made to each of them a day.

“I know that you’re screening your calls,” Eamon barked into the phone. “Call me back!” He slammed the phone down and then ground his back teeth together until he swore that he could taste powder.

Knock! Knock!

“What do you want?” he barked and then immediately regretted it.

The door slowly cracked open, but then just enough for Hayley to stick her head through. “Sorry to disturb you, but we have all the new girls ready to audition.”

“You have their applications and had them fill out the questionnaires?” he asked.

Hayley bobbed her head and tried to flash a smile.

Sighing, Eamon climbed out of his chair and headed toward the door. “I guess the faster I do this, the faster it’ll all be over with.”

Hayley handed him a thick folder and then patted him on the arm. “See. That’s the spirit, Boy Toy.”

The meek smile that he was trying to force died as he cut her a look.

She just laughed.

The permanent marker that had been used on him at the Hendersons’ bachelor party had been scrubbed with everything from soap, alcohol, makeup remover and at one point a few cotton balls of bleach. The lettering had faded significantly, but if anyone was to look real close, they would still be able to make out the words.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbled when Hayley’s laughter refused to die out.

“I think that depends on who you ask,” she volleyed back.