Forced Married to the Ugly Billionaire

Nicole’s P O V The Infinite Hotel and Casino, known as one of the town's most affordable gambling venues, was, to the best of my recollection, an unlicensed establishment in New York. Regrettably, I was employed there as a cocktail server. As I adjusted the hem of my black mini skirt to cover more of my exposed thighs, I surveyed the room with my narrowed eyes. The ceiling lights were dimmed, casting the room in the shimmering light from a multitude of twinkling slot machines, making me wince at the sound. I began working here three months ago at the behest of my stepmother; had I refused, they would have ceased supporting my niece Andrea's leukemia treatment. Andrea, the daughter of my late sister Camille, who passed away in an accident, has no one but me to look after her. Consequently, I was committed to doing all that I could to help her battle this serious illness. Adjusting to work in an environment filled with vibrant colors and the constant background hum of slot machines was challenging—I couldn't quite capture the sound. It wasn't musical, but it wasn't mere noise either. It resembled a mechanical backdrop—tinkling, clanking, with the occasional beep or fleeting tune. It was the sound of a hundred slot machines at work. I made my way toward the center, where craps tables, poker, blackjack, and roulette were in full swing. There, I spotted the elderly patron who had requested his vodka for the sixth time. From what I could tell, he was clearly inebriated and unsteady. Bloodshot eyes fixated on the cards in his hands, his expression was one of anger. Gambling, after all, was no trivial pursuit. I hesitated to hand him his order, but then he caught my eye with a tilt of his head. "Come over here..." he beckoned, waving me closer, and with a trembling hand, I complied, delivering his order. "Sit beside me. I need a lucky charm..." he said. Obediently, I took the seat next to him. He slid a glass toward me, filled with an orange-colored liquid, and urged me to drink. I refused with a shake of my head. "No, thanks, Sir. But we're not allowed to drink while working." "Oh, come on. It's just an orange gin spritz. It won't make you drunk..." he chuckled, but his laughter was cut short when he lost a bet. "Damn it!" he cursed, and in my fright, I grasped the glass and took a sip. He was right; it tasted like an ordinary orange juice, yet so addictive that I hadn't noticed the glass was now empty. The old man grinned when he noticed that the glass in front of me was already consumed. ‘‘Come and sit on my lap,’’ he commanded again, tapping his thick thighs, and I shook my head, refusing this time. ‘‘I’m sorry, sir, but I won't sit on your lap. It's not a part of my job.’’ I whispered softly, lowering my gaze on my lap. His hand started to move on my thigh, traveling its way up to the hem of my skirt. I dodged his hand as I abruptly stood up from my seat. ‘‘b***h!’’ He gulped down the vodka I had served and seized my arm, causing me to wince from the pain. ‘‘Let me go, you pervert!’’ I pulled my hand away from his grasp, and immediately after, the sound of shattering glass and scattering gambling chips filled the air as he hurled curses in my direction. ‘‘You’re just an employee here, so you have to follow every client’s request, do you understand?’’ he growled, his gaze piercing through me. ‘‘Don’t you dare embarrass me in front of my friends, or you will regret not following any of my orders!'' I remained silent, my eyes fixed on the floor. This task was not what I had been assigned to do. Despite the perilous environment, I had accepted this job for my niece's sake. Every night, I faced harassment from various customers, which I mostly managed to evade. However, this particular elderly man was especially malicious and difficult to handle. As I looked up, the old man loomed over me. His breath, heavy with alcohol, brushed against my face while I sought assistance from the other customers. However, they merely observed us with fascination, as though engrossed in a captivating film. The old man's speech was garbled, betraying the pinnacle of vodka's influence. ‘‘Answer me, you f*****g b***h!’’ He demanded in a bellowing voice that made me flinch away. ‘‘Y-yes, Sir…’’ I stammered and internally reprimanded myself for showing him how scared and nervous I was, and for agreeing to what he wanted to do to me. I was suddenly taken aback when his hand moved and slapped me on the face, and his large hand gripped my throat and throttled me, causing me to gasp in horror. I clasped my hands around his arm in a desperate bid to pull it away and began to desperately inhale for air. Tears welled up in my widening eyes as I stared into the raging dark eyes of the perverted old man. "What's happening here?" a voice echoed across the room. It was unmistakably my manager's voice. She hurried over, and rather than defending me, she grabbed my hair and pulled me away from the old man, causing me to cry out in pain. "Apologize to him, right now!" she demanded. I shook my head in disbelief. She expected me to apologize to him without even understanding the full story. "What would you like to do about her, Mr. Pariscova?" Debra inquired, her grip on my hair unyielding, as she addressed the disagreeable elderly customer. "I will not pursue the matter any further as long as you grant me permission to sleep with this beautiful woman tonight…’’ he smirked evily, his eyes raking my entire body, which caused me to shiver in disgust. His eyes were filled with dark desire, and as he walked closer to me, I stiffened. I hitched my breath when I felt his hand squeeze my asscheek. I struggled to shake off the overwhelming feelings of disgust and dirtiness. My mind wandered to Homer, my boyfriend who had been lured away by my stepsister. What would he think of a woman he perceived as tarnished and unclean? But in the end, it was irrelevant. He had succumbed to Kendra's snare, and he was now, undeniably, my ex-boyfriend. ‘‘You, pervert!’’ The rage I was feeling towards Homer intensified even more, so my left foot automatically flew, kicking the old man's groin, making him yelp in pain and catch his balls with both hands, before sending me murderous gaze. The pain in my scalp grew as Debra pulled my hair harder, and then she started to drag me out of the room. ‘‘You’re going to pay for this, you slut!’’ she roared in my face. "Help!" I cried out, but the onlookers, as usual, just watched. "Please, help me!" Yet, no one stepped forward to prevent my manager from pulling me towards the elevator. My vision blurred by tears, I couldn't see which floor we had reached. As the doors opened, she shoved me into a dimly lit corridor. ‘"You can't force me to do what you want!" I exclaimed, my voice trembling as I retreated a few steps from her. "I'm quitting. I don't want to be here. I'm not working here anymore!" "Really?" Her lips curled into a mischievous smirk as she pulled out her phone from her pants pocket and dialed a number. "Sylvia, your stepdaughter wants to quit her job. What do you think about that?" Debra activated the speakerphone, and my stepmother's voice boomed through the halls. "You want to resign from your job? Fine, go ahead! And I'll cut off your niece's treatment!" she threatened, her voice loud and furious. "No, please!" I pleaded into the phone. "Mom, please don't do this to me..." But the call had already been disconnected. Debra spun around and strode into the elevator, and I chased after her. "Wait!" I shouted, but a wave of dizziness overcame me. I became acutely aware of my racing heartbeat and the excessive sweat on my skin. My muscles tensed, and my jaws tightened. "Wait for your client, my dear..." Debra's voice echoed, growing fainter. With my vision blurring, I watched as the elevator doors shut, and she vanished from view. "No..." My voice emerged as a hoarse, barely audible whisper. The sound of my breathing grew louder in my ears, and I closed my eyes, desperately trying to understand what was happening. ‘‘How do you feel, sweetie?’’ the voice of the old man echoed in my ear, and when I opened my eyes, they expanded when I spotted him standing right before me. ‘‘How do you feel about the drug I mixed in your drink?’’