This was a twist. As I watched him reach beneath the massive bulk of his gut to unbuckle his belt, I had to wonder what kinky shit he wanted me to do that he was asking first.

"Uh, all right. What is it?" I didn't bother getting undressed yet since I wasn't wearing much to begin with. Besides, Gus liked to take my clothes off. I guess it made him feel as if he was doing something to get laid rather than just snapping his fingers and having us girls drop to our knees in front of him because he was our boss.

"I lost some money to a guy in a poker game."

"Okay." I nodded, waiting for the point of this confession.

"A lot of money." Gus was having trouble holding my gaze as he pushed his pants down his skinny, pale legs.

That last part had me paying more attention. If this bastard was going to ask me to borrow money, after all of the income I knew he was making off us girls, I might have to smother him when he fell asleep tonight. Seriously, he was in such bad shape—being overweight and a smoker—it could easily look as if he'd died in his sleep. No one would suspect . . . something to think about. In the meantime, I had a feeling his losing this poker game somehow meant I was about to get fucked by him, both literally and figuratively.

"I offered him an IOU for the cash, but one of the guys in the game told him what I do. Who I am."

Everyone who lived in this corrupt state knew who Gus was and what he did. I continued to wait for the fucking point of this conversation so I could get him off and go to sleep in my own room.

He'd paused in his undressing and stood before me still in his boxers, shirt and black socks. Usually by now he'd be naked and I'd be staring down the barrel of a slightly flaccid penis he'd expect me to rouse. Not tonight. This must be serious.

"He said we'd call it even in exchange for a night with my best girl," he continued.

And there it was. The point I'd been waiting for. Now that I knew what he'd been beating around the bush trying to say, I kind of wished I hadn't heard it. Gus was gambling with the future of the Cat Haus. Hell, with all of our futures. More than that, I'd be the one cleaning up his mess.

I raised one brow, hoping to reason my way out of this. "I'm your best girl? You sure about that? Sasha brings in more money than I do. And the guys all love Trina. I bet she's a close second as far as income."

Only because Sasha and Trina took on more clients a day than I did. At the end of a long night I was happier to lay low in the parlor while the other girls worked the room and reeled in the customers. That way I could go back to my room and read. This Cinderella liked to be in bed by midnight, and not in bed fucking, either. It rarely happened that I made it to my room alone much before dawn, but hell, a girl could dream, couldn't she?

Gus swung his head from side to side. "Nope. None of the other girls will do. It's gotta be you."

"Why?" The blondes were always chosen more than me, a brunette. And I had real tits, not fake, so that was another point Gus needed to consider because most guys liked big, fake boobs. Of course, I was kind of petite and guys seemed to like a spinner—you know, a girl small enough he could spin her around on his cock. And my green eyes got a lot of attention, too. Still, I was by no means Gus's best girl—especially if it meant I'd have to do him a favor because of it.

"I chose you because you're smart."

"Smart? What the hell are you talking about? What does that have to do with anything?"

What did IQ have to do with my vast and varied sexual abilities? Besides, I had to think if I were so smart, I wouldn’t have been here doing this since graduating college two years ago.

"Damn it, you know what I mean. You're classy. You got some education under your belt and you talk good."

I'd give him that point. My English degree from the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, or UNLV for short, meant I was educated enough to know that his grammar was atrocious. Still, having good oral skills in my profession generally had nothing to do with conversational ability.

"So you want me to do you a favor?" I crossed my arms and decided if I was the only girl for this job, I wanted something in exchange. "What do I get out of this?"

Gus's face grew red. "You get to keep your damn job here, that's what you get."

His comment had my blood pressure rising as Gus's request for this favor started to sound more like a threat. "Oh, really?"

He let out a long run of obscenities that included the C-word and a few choice slams at my profession, but when I stood my ground, arms crossed and bitch-on-heels attitude firmly in place, he finally nodded. "All right. Fine. What d'ya want? A night off? A week off? Hell, take the rest of the month if you want. Go home to Kansas and visit your parents or whatever."

First of all, I was from Kansas City in Missouri, not Kansas, but I didn't bother correcting him because his suggestion was bullshit. If I don't work, I don't make money, and he damn well knew that. Some other girl would get put in my room and fill Gus's bank account so he wouldn't care, but meanwhile my own pockets would be empty.

"Oh, no. I want some time off from my gratis duties."

"Your what?" He frowned.

Apparently I'd confused him, so I explained, "I'll serve my customers. I'll even settle your bet with this guy, but you have to lay off calling me to your bed all the time. I think I deserve that, at least, since I'm saving your ass by doing you this huge favor and all."

A small part of me felt bad about throwing the other girls under the bus because Gus sure as hell wouldn't go without his nightly fuck or suck. With me out of the running, they'd have to pick up the slack, but too bad. They weren't the ones he'd lost in a poker bet. I was.

The concept still boggled the mind. I always knew Gus was a gambler, but this had reached a whole new level. Maybe we girls needed to stage an intervention or leave some pamphlets for Gamblers Anonymous around.

"For how long?" he asked.

I knew I couldn't ask for forever, which is what I really wanted, so I said, "One month."

Gus let out a few more choice cusses before saying, "One week."

I remained steadfast. "Two. Starting now."

"Fine." His scowl told me he wasn't happy about it, but it wasn't my job to make Gus happy, just to make him money. "You should probably get going anyway."

"He's coming here tonight?" After I'd already put in a full day's—and night's work?

"No. You're going to him."

"I’m going to him?" Now I made house calls, too? Jesus, this was getting worse by the minute. "Is that safe?"

Working at the Cat Haus offered us protection that girls working on their own didn't have. That was a huge consideration in my profession.

"Of course, it's safe. He's staying in a penthouse suite that probably costs more per night than you make in a week."

I sighed. "Fine. But you're reimbursing me for my gas and any parking." Because I was thinking unless this guy, who apparently had money to burn since he was in the penthouse suite, threw me some cash by way of a tip, I wasn't going to see a penny from tonight's overtime.

"All right. Whatever. Go change into something nice. Something classy. I'll write down the information for you." Gus looked around the room. He pulled open the drawer of the nightstand, probably looking for something to write with, but I knew from experience the only things in there were toys, condoms and lube.

This man would be lost without us girls taking care of him. I blew out another breath and went to the dresser against the wall. I'd been in the midst of doing the crossword puzzle in the paper last night when I'd been summoned. Gus wasn't much in the cleaning department and my bet paid off. The folded newspaper and the pen were right where I'd left them.

"Here." I thrust both at him, and then grasped on something he'd said before. "And what do you mean change into something nice and classy? Is he taking me somewhere? What should I put on? A long dress? Cocktail attire? Business casual? What?"

I had assumed I was going to this guy's hotel room to have sex as payoff for the bet, not out to a night at the opera. Though this situation was so odd, who knew? Maybe rich dude wanted Gus's best girl to be his date for some fancy party. Hell, I'd seen Pretty Woman. Working here, stranger things had happened to me in real life than even Hollywood could come up with for the silver screen.

Gus squinted as he scribbled. The man refused to admit he needed reading glasses and he probably couldn't see a thing he'd written. He shoved the paper back at me. "What the fuck you asking me for? I don’t know what you should wear. I'm not some queer who knows about women's fashion."

Yeah, because knowing about fashion made a man gay. I rolled my eyes. How this Neanderthal managed to hold on to this establishment for this long was beyond me.

Meanwhile, I still didn't know what to wear. "Why am I going to him instead of him coming to me? Are we going out? Did he say what he wanted to do?"

"What do you think he wants to do? He wants to fuck. Just go put on something decent and get over there before you embarrass me."

Me, embarrass him. If anyone embarrassed Gus, it would be Gus himself. I bit back that comment. "I'll figure something out."

I turned to the door when Gus said, "If he wants you to stay the night, stay."

All night? How the hell much dough had Gus lost? And how much of it was this guy going to take out of my ass to repay it? For the first time in a long time I didn't feel in control of the situation, and that scared the hell out of me.