CHAPTER FOUR
The receptionist kept David waiting for about five minutes, and he nervously observed his surroundings. He had never been in this part of the private gambling club before, and it was even more luxurious than the plush gaming rooms on the lower levels of the old estate manor. The receptionist sat at a desk that was almost as large as the foyer of David's own apartment in Manhattan, calmly putting bright pink polish on her long, tapered nails, her full sensual lips pouting as she concentrated on what she was doing. The room had a white carpet from wall to wall, and the legs of the deep brown leather chairs sank almost out of sight into the nap of the rug. Through the window behind the bouffant-haired girl at the desk who was studiously avoiding meeting David's eyes as if he wer
