Daddy’s Girl by Miley Maine
1
Savannah
Iknow it’s not uncommon for people to dislike their jobs, but I despise mine. It isn’t just that I’m not putting my Mathematics degree to use in the way I imagined. I could deal with working in a casino if the money was good, and the other circumstances of my employment weren’t awful.
The main reason I hate my job is my boss. Dimitri Kriska, the owner of the Mojave Casino, Las Vegas. Casinos are common in Vegas, and Mojave is the biggest and best. Anyone who visits Sin City visits Mojave.
So, what’s the problem?
Dimitri Kriska is an asshole. I don’t just mean he’s difficult to get along with. I mean he’s a grade-A, underhanded, double dealing snake who I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw him. Unfortunately, Dimirti owns me and won’t let me forget it.
I sigh as I get out of my battered pickup truck and cross the parking lot, mentally preparing myself for another day at work.
I slip in via the staff entrance, hoping to avoid Dimitri, but he’s waiting for me by my locker. His gaze trailers over my body, lingering on my breasts that are barely concealed by the low-cut blouse I’m wearing. While the male croupiers -- of which there aren’t many -- always look smart in their crisp white shirts, black bow ties and matching waistcoats, the females have to dress more sexily, and are always heavily made up. Today, for example, I’m wearing a full-face of glam makeup, complete with contouring and false lashes. The purpose is two-fold. Dimitri gets a kick out of having his female employees dress up according to his wishes, and I’m certain he watches us through the security cameras. The other reason is the customers. Our job as croupiers is to make sure the house always wins; be that by flirting with the customers or supplying them with complimentary drinks. Is it legal? Highly unlikely. But what does Dimitri Kriska care about being legal? He has every cop in the city in his back pocket, and the casino is a profitable front for his money laundering business.
That’s another reason I hate my job. The people who come to Vegas are looking for a good time, and while they accept that there are risks involved when gambling, the customers of the Mojave Casino don’t understand how badly the odds are stacked against them. I always feel guilty when I have to use underhand tactics to make the patrons lose thousands, but I know doing anything differently will possibly cost me my life.
“Savannah, your most recent payment is late,” Dimitri says, not bothering to hide the way he leers at me. “You know, if you’re short on money this month, we can come to an ‘arrangement.’”
His hand snakes out to slither up my thigh, but I push it away.
“You’ll have your money.”
Thanks to loans taken out by my dad before he died, I owe Dimitri $50,000. That’s how I ended up working at the Mojave Casino in the first place.
Six months ago, I was fresh out of the University of Nevada with a Bachelor’s in Mathematics and returning home to the trailer park where I grew up for the first time in months. Nothing prepared me for the state my dad was in. I knew he was sick, but he’d downplayed his illness, and because I was so busy completing my degree, I hadn’t been home often enough to see how far he’d deteriorated. He looked like a wraith, with yellowing, sallow skin.
The prognosis was terminal. Doctors didn’t know how he’d hung on as long as he did. My dad had an aggressive form of lung cancer that should have killed him years ago, but he’d stayed alive long enough to see me graduate. Not even twenty-four hours after I returned home, and Dad was coughing up blood and had to be rushed to hospital.
My heart broke as I watched the man who’d raised me, who’d scrimped and saved to give me everything, including putting me through university, fade away in front of my eyes. He was all I had. We lost my mom in childbirth, and all my life it had just been me and Dad.
The last thing he told me before he died was about all the loans he’d taken out with Dimitri Kriska. Loans to pay for university. Loans to pay the bills, while he was too sick to work, and of course loans to fund his medical treatment.
“You have to run, Savannah. Kriska is no good, you can’t let him catch you. There’s a thousand dollars and a pistol under my bed. Take them and get as far away as you can. Change your name. Anything to avoid landing in Kriska’s debt.”
Then he’d died.
I was inconsolable, and even as the doctors took my dad’s body away, and the hospital chaplin came to see me, his words rang in my mind. I made excuses, and said I had to hurry home. I should have left there and then, but I had nothing but the clothes on my back, so I went back to the trailer to get the thousand dollars and the pistol Dad had told me about.
And that was my fatal mistake. Dimitri Kriska was waiting outside the trailer.
In the back corridor of the casino Dimitri continues to leer at me, his hand still on my thigh, despite me pushing it away.
“I’ve been lenient, Savannah. I know you’ve had a few difficult months, but my patience is wearing thin.”
Dimitri steps in closer, his hot breath reeking of alcohol and tobacco.
“I said you’ll have your money,” I repeat firmly, pushing his hand away.
Dimitri’s arm drops, but he doesn’t move, and I have to press my body against his to get passed and through the door to the casino floor. As I do, he gropes my breasts. I suppress a shudder, feeling dirty despite having showered before I left for work.
Out on the casino floor the lights and sounds overwhelm me. Slot machines give off vibrant colors, and play little tunes as patrons add more and more coins. Jessica -- the most popular croupier -- is in the center of the room at the roulette table, all eyes watching as she flicks her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and flashes her cleavage. My closest friend, Maddie, is just two tables down from mine, hosting a game of poker with what looks like a bachelorette party.
On my blackjack table stands a male croupier, Alexander, one of Dimitri’s cousins or something. I don’t know. Members of the Kriska family are always coming and going from the casino, and I’m never sure who exactly works here and in what role.
Like his cousin, Alexander’s eyes watch me as I approach, trailing over my body like I’m a piece of meat. I suppress a grimace and as politely as I can say, “Thanks Alex. I’ve got it from here.”
Alex steps away from the table and I start setting up, knowing the first punters will be along at any moment. Just on cue, a party of men approach. They’re older -- late thirties or early forties maybe -- and dressed in expensive clothes. I instantly recognize the dark-haired man of the group as rival casino owner James Stamford.
What’s he doing here?I don’t have time to wonder, as my attention is caught by one of James’ companions. Holy wow!
The guy looks like a Norse God or something. He has shoulder length blond hair with a small braided on one side, and then swept up with the rest into a man bun. His polo shirt sleeves just conceal his bulging biceps and the tattoos covering them.
As he approaches, the guy flashes me an easy smile, his bright blue eyes dazzling me. For a moment, I almost forget who and where I am. I glance across at Maddie to see if she’s noticed the group, and her eyes are almost bugging out of her head, though her main focus is on James Stamford, which is a given, as she had a thing for dark-haired Bond types. When Maddie glares at me pointedly, I finally remember I’m supposed to be introducing myself.
“Good evening, gentlemen, I’m Savannah Martínez, your croupier for the evening. Can I interest any of you in some complimentary drinks before we get started?”
“Do you have akvavit?” the blond asks, and though his accent is American, it has a distinctly European twang to it.
When I stare blankly, having never heard of the drink before, James says, “I think it’s Krogstad over here.”
That I have heard of. While not popular, the distilled spirit produced from grain and potatoes, and flavored with a variety of herbs, is something we have behind the bar. Dimitri likes to make sure we’re fully stocked and cater to all tastes.
I put on my best smile and say, “Certainly. That’s with tonic water, in the same way you drink gin, correct?” When the blond nods, I ask, “And for everyone else?”
“Krogstad all round. Skål!” the blond replies in a deep, husky voice that makes me shiver all over.
I turn to Alex and give him the order -- four glasses of Krogstad and tonic -- and when he departs for the bar, I start dealing the cards.
“So, are you guys here on business or pleasure?” I ask as I deal, knowing full well who James Stamford is. What I want to know is why is he at a rival casino, and who are his hot friends.
James lets out an easy laugh, his dark hair catching the overhead light. “Come on, you must know who I am? No one who works around here doesn’t.”
“Okay, you got me there. You own Stones Casino. But why are you here and not there?”
Again, James laughs easily. “Do you socialize where you work?” Okay, good point. “I promised my friend Erik here a good time.”
He gestures to the blond who wanted the Krogstad, and it’s good to put a name to the face.
I turn my attention to Erik and ask, “You’re not from around here?” I’ve already guessed he isn’t thanks to his accent, but I want a reason to speak to him more.
“Correct. I’m from Pennsylvania, via Oslo, Norway,” he says.
“Ah, that explains the accent!” I say before I can stop myself.
Erik chuckles heartily, and my stomach flips over. “Yes, my parents and I moved to Pennsylvania when I was thirteen.”
“So, is this your first time in Vegas?”
“No, but it is my first time here in over a year,” Erik says, explaining why I’ve never seen him with James before. “I’m here to unveil a new branch of my fitness club.”
“Oh, you’re into crossfit and stuff?” That would certainly explain Erik’s muscles and those of his companion I’ve yet to be introduced to.
Erik chuckles again. “I call it the Viking workout. I doubt it’s what the real vikings did, but it’s a good marketing ploy to get the customers flocking in.”
I grin. “I like it.” Realizing I’m focusing too much attention on Erik, I turn to his buff friend and ask, “And are you part of the fitness club, too?”
“No, that’s all Erik. I’m Lucas Williams, the owner of the Williams Private Security Agency. Maybe you’ve heard of us?”
Of course, I have. Everyone in Vegas has heard of the Williams Private Security Agency, as they supply the security staff for most of the clubs, casinos, bars and hotels on the strip. All except Mojave, of course, as Dimitri insists on ‘keeping it in the family’ and so employs his cousins to run security. It seems the staff at Mojave fall into two distinct categories -- relatives of Dimitri’s, or young, attractive women who owe him a debt.
I try not to think of my boss and turn my attention to the final guy in the group. He’s not as muscular as Erik or Lucas, but like James, he’s in good shape and dressed in expensive clothes.
“I’m afraid I’m not nearly as interesting as my friends here,” he says, though he doesn’t sound ashamed he hasn’t got a flashy job. In fact, the way he presents himself makes me certain he’s a CEO or something. “Robb Dennings; financial advisor.”
“You’re Robb Dennings?” I blurt, and when he confirms he is, my mouth continues blabbering before my brain can stop it. “I applied for a junior position at your place, but I had to turn it down. My dad died and I--”
I clamp my mouth shut, realizing I’m dangerously close to saying too much and revealing the deal I have with Dimitri.
Thankfully, I’m saved from any more awkwardness when Erik says, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” I reply, putting on a brave face. I don’t want to see pity in the guys’ eyes.
I glance at Maddie, who is positively glowering with envy. My guests are certified DILF’s, and not only do I know they will spend thousands on my blackjack table, but each of them is easy on the eyes.
This work shift isn’t going to be too terrible after all!
* * *
My happy mood comes crashing down around my ears when I step into the staffroom for my break a few hours later, and Dimitri corners me.
“You’re a whore,” he spits in my face. “I saw you, practically clinging to those guys out there.”
“I’m just doing the job you told me to do,” I bite back, sick of Dimitri treating me like shit.
“If you were doing as you were told, those guys wouldn’t be five-thousand dollars up. Make sure they lose. Unless you want to find another way to repay me.”
Before I can move away, Dimitri’s hand is under my skirt and skimming across my panties. I feel sick and fight back the urge to hurl in his face. I know if I cause a scene, he’ll just take what he wants. It wouldn’t be the first time Dimitri has forced himself on one of his employees.
The cold hard look in his eyes tells me all I need to know. It’s the group of rich guys or me, and I know I have to make sure the house wins, or the next time I see my boss… I shudder to think.
I fight back tears, plaster a smile on my face, and march back to the casino floor without having eaten anything. Usually, I try to eat at work, as I can’t really afford much in the way of groceries, and there’s always plates of takeout laying around in the break room, but after my run-in with Dimitri I’ve lost my appetite.
“More drinks, gentlemen?” I say as I step back behind my table. Before any of the patrons can accept or refuse, I hail Alexander and ask him for another round of Krogstad and tonic -- on the house, of course!
I limit any flirty behavior between me and the party, and instead focus on making sure they drink plenty so that they’re not paying attention when I switch my cards out to ensure the house wins. At one point, I worry Lucas is onto me, as he watches me closely, a frown on his face. But before he can raise his suspicions, I order more drinks.
I feel like shit. The guys are nice. They just seem to be here to have a good time, and unlike many other patrons, despite my overt flirting with them earlier, none of them have taken advantage of me. In fact, they’ve all treated me like perfect gentlemen. Is it crazy I feel oddly safe around them? Probably because two of them are built like bodybuilders, and the others while not as buff, are in excellent shape too.
It’s a shame I have to screw them out of money, but I can feel Dimitri’s eyes on me, and the blinking of the CCTV cameras lets me know my boss is watching closely. If I don’t do as he says, I’ll end up paying for it.