Play Me Right by Tracy Wolff

Chapter One
Sebastian
    Aria left me. Or I drove her away. I don’t know which one is the most accurate descriptor, but either way the result is the same. It’s been three days since Aria walked out of my suite, three days since she’s answered the phone or a text or even shown up to work. She called in sick yesterday and the day before, which gives me something else to worry about. Something else to feel guilty about. The fact that she’s skipping shifts when she so obviously needs the money…that says everything that can be said about how she feels about seeing me right now.
    Part of me wants to text her not to worry, that I won’t bother her when she comes to work. But it’s a lie and I think we’re both smart enough to know it. The second she walks through the casino door, I’m going to be right there waiting. Right there demanding that she talk to me.
    I hurt her. I fucking hurt her and I don’t even know how it happened. How I got so out of control. I think back on those moments, on the whole interlude, and all I can remember is how much I wanted her. How I wanted her to want me the same way. And how out of control I felt because of that want. That need.
    So I took it out on her. I pushed her and pushed her and pushed her, not to punish her as she believes, but because I couldn’t be alone in all that want. All that need. I had to know that she felt the same way about me. That her mind and body and soul cried out for mine the same way mine do for her.
    Instead, I took it too far. Pushed her too hard. Hurt her when that was the last thing I ever wanted to do. And I don’t have a clue how I’m supposed to fix it. Especially when she won’t even step foot in my damn casino.
    I even went to her apartment last night like some kind of stalker. She wasn’t there. Or, if she was, she wouldn’t open the door to me. Either way, I’m totally screwed. I can’t see her, can’t talk to her, can’t apologize.
    Then again, even if I could…what then? Do I tell her how out of control I felt? How vulnerable? Just the thought makes me queasy. I’m okay with admitting I was wrong, with apologizing for hurting her—but explaining? Telling her what motivated the things I did? I don’t know if I’m ready for that—or even if I’m capable of it.
    I just know that I’d like the chance to try.
    But until she comes back to work—if she comes back to work—I won’t be able to do anything. The lack of control grates on me.
    Rubbing a hand over my face, I try to clear my mind. To concentrate on the two million and one things I need to do today. Things that include setting into motion the plans Ethan and I made to solve the problems of his brother, Brandon, and Nico Valducci in one fell swoop. It won’t be easy and it’s going to take time to get everything lined up the way we want it, but if we do everything exactly right, Brandon and Valducci will be in prison, awaiting trial, before the end of the year.
    The work is slow going—especially when I get an email from a board member of the charity I used to work for, asking when I’m going to be back. For long seconds, I just stare at the computer screen, trying to decide how I want to answer him.
    Technically, I’m on a leave of absence. When I got the phone call about my father and decided that I needed to come back here, to help out with the Atlantis and all his other business dealings, I hadn’t been prepared to resign yet. Not when I didn’t know what was going to be waiting for me here, or how I was going to react to it. And not when I had less than forty-eight hours to wrap my head around the fact that I was going to have to return to Vegas after I’d sworn never to set foot in this city again.
    I’ve been here two weeks now. Two measly weeks. And while there’s a huge part of me that misses the work I used to do—work that mattered, work that let me make a real difference to underprivileged children all over the world—I’m smart enough to know that