Free Deceived 4 - The Wedding by Eve Carter

the baggage claim area.
    Patrick noticed my interest and chuckled. “Slot machines are for suckers. Black jack is the best casino game to play.”
    I looked at him and said, “Why’s that?”
    “ It’s the only game where you actually have a slight chance of winning against the house in the long run.”
    “Have you played it a lot?”
    “We had a game club in college. We would play Texas Hold’em and Blackjack. Of the two, Blackjack is the easiest to learn, but poker was where I won the most.”
    I leaned into his arm and we continued walking to collect our bags. “So, are you going to teach me to play?”
    He smiled at me. “Of course , baby. Before we go back to New York you will be a pro at Blackjack.”
    Once in the baggage claim area we waited with the other passengers. From a distance, I spotted the Porsche red Samsonite suitcase Patrick had bought me in Paris. The bright red color made it a unique and an easy target to spot. For some reason it was on one of the other belts. We had been waiting in the wrong place.
    “My bag is over there,” I said pointing. We rushed over and Patrick grabbed it from the belt.
    “That’s strange they delivered it here. The sign says ‘From JFK’ over there,” Patrick said pointing towards the belt where we had been standing.” And there’s my bag,” he continued. Confused, he rushed back to our previous location to claim his luggage.
    Winded from my jog between the suitcases, I caught up with him and with a laughed said, “Let’s get out of here. I can’t wait to learn Blackjack.”
    Patrick flashed me a smile in agreement and said, “It’s Vegas, baby!”
    We quickly left the terminal and hailed a cab. It was a short but congested ride to our destination, The Bellagio Hotel and Casino. Gazing out of the cab’s side window, I was in awe. Crowds of people walked the streets in t-shirts and shorts, carrying the biggest icy drinks I’d seen in my life. I gawked like a typical tourist from out of state.
    “Check out that guy ’s drink, it’s huge,” I said. A group of young twenty-something guys passed our slow moving cab, carrying tall plastic drink cups filled with red and blue ice blended drinks. They were at least four feet tall and they were tethered to their necks with a strap to keep from…well, I wasn’t sure if the strap was because the drink was heavy, or maybe in case they fell down drunk. At least they wouldn’t lose it. Either way, they looked ridiculous walking down the street that way. “This place is wild, baby. Now I know how it got its reputation.”
    Patrick laughed and said, “There’s more to come. Las Vegas is craziness to the extreme. That’s why I love it.”
    We arrived at the main entrance of The Bellagio, where a porter took out luggage from the taxi. The lobby was grand, in both scale and design. The foyer was voluminous and expansive, with an 18-foot coffered ceiling filled with the most extraordinary glass sculpture - a unique kind of colorful glass made up the main chandelier above the waiting area. The dominant theme everywhere was Italian marble. There were columns of marble, arches of marble, ginormous vases of brightly colored flowers and marble. Everywhere there were marble floors, countertops, walls; everything was finished in polished marble. It was regal and grand, and unlike anything I had seen in a New York hotel, including The Plaza.
    Check-in was in a private executive suite, separate from the main desk where a long line of visitors waited for their keys. Wine and coffee were available in our check-in lounge, ready to soothe the tired traveler, or just get the party started for those who couldn’t wait. We were done in minutes and afterward we entered the elevator, followed by the porter who rolled a cart with our luggage.
    P atrick had booked us a premier penthouse suite on the thirty-sixth floor, with a supposedly breathtaking view of the famous Bellagio Fountains, which sprang to life every half hour,