The Job (Auctioned) by Cara Dee (highly illogical behavior txt) 📕

it was to “work” with her daddies, even if only for the moment. Ma would have to stand in as babysitter sooner or later.

“Oh my gosh, this is so exciting!” Ace squealed behind her hands. “Wait, he’s gonna open the door for you, Daddy.”

I smiled and stepped out of the cab, then extended a hand to Ace.

“Welcome to the Venetian, sir. May we assist you with any luggage?”

“All good, thanks. We’re traveling light,” I replied.

The starstruck look in Ace’s eyes as she looked up at the lights in the valet bay of the resort made my day. She’d been here before, more than once, but never as a hotel guest. When we’d told her we were spending the night, she’d lit up like a Christmas tree.

The three of us cleaned up good when we wanted to. Both Boone and I had donned dress pants and proper shirts, and Ace was sporting a classy black dress and had a bow in her hair.

I’d stolen a moment earlier back home when I’d stood in the kitchen doorway and watched Boone help her with her hair. Him in those charcoal pants that made his ass look like…fuck me. The pale gray fabric of his shirt stretching around his muscular arms… Ink peeking out from under his cuffs and collar. An affectionate smile at Ace’s animated rambling about something, all while he tucked a piece of hair that’d come loose back into the hairband and adjusted the cute bow just so.

Those memories were my favorite.

The three of us made our way inside the hotel, Boone carrying our only bag, and Ace got in between us and grabbed our hands. She gazed up at the high ceiling and marveled at the luxurious design. I couldn’t remember if she’d been in this area of the resort before, but it was impressive for someone who’d been here a hundred times over the years, too.

Even as a resident, as someone who’d grown up in this town, I found the hotels and casinos along the Strip a bit magical. If I was just driving from one side of town to the other, I did everything in my power to avoid this part, and I loathed the tourists who couldn’t drive, but…yeah. Coming here from time to time, to eat, to gamble a little, to have a good time, was a treat.

We went through check-in without a hitch, and I gave them a credit card with a name that matched the one Laney had put on the reservation. I wasn’t born yesterday. No matter how innocent our stay was, I knew what kind of privacy policy these places had. In a hot second, your personal information could be available to third parties in other countries where they gave no shits about integrity.

Cash was king. So was making reservations through friends or over the phone. The internet was only a great tool if you knew how to use it. Otherwise, it was a digital fingerprint.

“You remember our rules for the Strip, baby?” Boone asked Ace as we headed for the elevators.

People everywhere—Christ. These hotels were more like their own towns. The Venetian alone had over six thousand suites, several pools, lounges, and nightclubs, two massive floors packed with shops and restaurants, around twenty ballrooms, and every detail was Italian extravagance.

“Duh,” Ace replied, skipping into an empty elevator. “Someone’s always paying attention. Definitely no shoplifting.”

I laughed.

We went up to the forty-fifth floor, and Boone and I got out our phones. He was to take pictures of everything, and I was gonna record a video.

Despite the heavy security, most hotels actually had very little surveillance on the hotel floors. If any at all. The Venetian didn’t.

“Get behind us, sweet pea,” I instructed. “By the way, did you turn off your phone?”

“Yes, sir. I ain’t accepting The Man’s cookies, and he can’t take my geographic data and biology information.”

I smiled, damn proud of her.

So was Boone. “You’re gonna go far, you know that? And I think you mean geolocation and biometric information.”

“That’s what I said.”

I kept my amusement to myself and trailed down the corridor toward our room, stopping briefly at emergency exits and maintenance spaces to record for Darius.

In just a few weeks, this floor would be flooded with human traffickers and murderers.

Opening the door to our suite, I wondered who would stay in here. Maybe a rapist? An inner circle security guard? A hit man?

The door closed behind me, and I peered into the luxurious bathroom and had a feeling Ace would want a bubble bath before we checked out. She’d have dinner with us, and then Ma would come watch her for a few hours while Boone and I tried to get our hands on information. Solid plan, I thought.

Christ, rich people couldn’t even have the toilet in the same room as the bathtub—it had to be in its own little space.

Past the entryway was the bedroom area, taken up mostly by an oversized king bed.

An actual railing divided the suite, and I stepped down in the sunken living room area where a big L-shaped couch, table, desk, and entertainment unit sat. Not to mention a spectacular view of the Strip. I filmed it all, just in case Darius wanted video of the inside too. By the time I was done, Boone came in with Ace.

“Oh my God!” Ace was in love, evidently. “Look how big the bed is, Dad!”

She jumped up on the bed and declared it the best in the world.

Boone walked my way and said he’d taken pictures of everything.

“Perfect.” I’d send it all to Willow tomorrow. “Ace, did you see the bathtub?”

She instantly flew off the bed and darted into the bathroom.

“You haven’t once mentioned any expenses. We’re supposed to split those.” Boone glanced around us before his gaze landed on the impressive view. “How much was this room for a night?”

I shrugged. “Laney got us a 40% discount.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I raked my teeth across the corner of my lip and scratched my