Ashton Wells
The moment I spotted her, the game changed.
She wasn't like the other women in the rooftop bar—too busy flaunting their designer dresses and clinking champagne glasses, waiting for a billionaire to take notice. No, this woman was different. She stood with an effortless grace, laughing with her friends, unaware that she had just become the center of my universe.
Raven-black hair, piercing green eyes, and a confidence that made her untouchable.
Exactly the kind of challenge I couldn't resist.
Rachel sighed beside me. "Please tell me you're going to rethink this."
I smirked. "You know me better than that."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she muttered.
I set my whiskey down and adjusted the cuffs of my tailored suit. "Time to make my move."
Rachel groaned. "Just don't do anything too Ashton-like."
I shot her a wink before making my way across the rooftop. The bass of the music thrummed beneath my feet, mingling with the distant sounds of slot machines and city life below. As I approached, I noticed the way she tossed her hair back as she laughed, her body language relaxed, unguarded.
She wasn't looking for attention.
Which meant she was exactly the kind of woman I needed to capture it.
I slid into the space beside her, resting one hand on the bar. "What's so funny?"
She turned to me, her green eyes locking onto mine, curiosity flickering across her face. For a split second, I saw something I hadn't anticipated—amusement. Like she had already sized me up and wasn't the least bit impressed.
Interesting.
"If you must know," she said, her voice smooth as silk, "my friend just told the worst joke I've ever heard."
I arched an eyebrow. "Let's hear it."
She smirked. "Why did the billionaire bring a ladder to the bar?"
I leaned in slightly. "I give up."
"To pick up girls way out of his league."
Her friends burst into laughter, and I felt Rachel watching me from across the rooftop, probably waiting for me to retreat in defeat.
Instead, I chuckled. "Harsh. You don't even know me, and you've already decided I'm out of my depth?"
She tilted her head, studying me. "Let me guess. You're going to tell me your name, casually mention that you own half of Las Vegas, and expect me to be impressed?"
I grinned. "Would it work?"
"Not even a little."
Damn. I liked her already.
I extended a hand. "Ashton Wells."
Her eyes flickered with recognition, but she didn't react the way most people did. No wide-eyed shock, no fake enthusiasm. Instead, she simply took my hand, shaking it firmly. "Nice to meet you, Ashton Wells. I'm—"
Before she could say her name, her friend tugged her away. "Come on, we're leaving."
She glanced at me one last time, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Maybe I'll see you around, billionaire."
And just like that, she was gone.
I stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, my pulse thrumming with something unexpected. Excitement.
Rachel appeared at my side, shaking her head. "Well, that was painful."
I smirked. "Not at all. The best games are the ones that take time."
Rachel sighed. "So what now?"
I drained the rest of my whiskey and set the glass down with a decisive clink.
"Now?" I said, my smirk widening.
"I find out everything about her."
The bet had officially begun.