Deacon Prescott leaned closer over the 10-inch security monitor and found the woman of his dreams. Her features were indistinguishable. But every other detail was perfect.

Her brown hair was caught at the back of her neck; her clothing was understated--elegant. He zoomed the camera in for a closer look.

"Perfect," he muttered. She was everything he'd been searching for. She had classic bone structure and a sedate hairstyle, everything he'd been hoping to find in a wife and never expecting to see in the lobby of his casino, The Golden Dream.

At thirty-eight it was well past time for him to settle down and start a family. And the only thing that had been holding him up was the right woman. A woman who could be that other half of his life without engaging his emotions. If he'd learned anything from a lifetime in Vegas it was that fortune changed on the roll of the dice. Happiness in life and forever love were only illusions.

"What are you staring at?"

Deacon glanced over his shoulder at Hayden MacKenzie--Mac to his friends. Mac owned the Chimera Casino and Resort. The Chimera was the second most successful operation in Vegas behind the Golden Dream.

Mac was one of only people Deacon called friend. Mac knew Deacon from his days of running in that gray area that bordered on lawlessness and had used his influence to show Deacon another way to make a living.  He was one of the few people that Deacon knew from the old days. He freely admitted he learned most of what he knew about moving in the moneyed class from Mac.

"Nothing."

Mac leaned over his shoulder at the enlarged picture of the woman. Her face filled the screen.  Mac snickered. "Oh, is that what we're calling women these days?"

"Let me see her," Angelo Mandetti said. Mandetti was from the Gaming Commission. He was observing Deacon's operation as part of an annual review process. The man had been in his hotel for a week already and Deacon respected him. He reminded him of one of the guys who used to hang around his mom when he was little. A guy who'd noticed Lorraine's skinny kid and taken time for him. 

Mac stepped back and Mandetti leaned over the monitor. He let a low wolf-whistle escape. 

"She's not just a woman," Deacon said.

"What is she then?" Mac asked.

"Nothing...yet," Deacon said. Mac had something that Deacon had always wanted. The easy confidence that came from being raised with every privilege. Though they were the same age, Deacon often felt much older. Deacon wanted that and the woman in the security camera was the key to the life he'd always wanted.

"Meaning?" Mac asked.

"She's going to be my wife."

"Your wife?" Mandetti asked. "Congratulations, man."

Mac snorted. "He's never met her."

"Really?"  Mandetti leaned closer to the screen, observing the woman again. "She doesn't look like your type."

Deacon shrugged. He didn't say it out loud but that was precisely why he wanted her.

Deacon watched as the woman took a book from her handbag and started reading. He had a glimmer of doubt. What if she was too staid to tame the restlessness inside him? Honorable men didn't cheat on their wives. He'd have to see if there was a spark of attraction between them before he settled on her as his wife.

"I'll be right back."

"This should be interesting."

Mac and Mandetti both moved to follow him. "Stay here."

Mandetti held his hands up and moved back from the door. Mac chuckled and sank to one of the leather chairs in the security booth."It's not like we can't watch from here."

Deacon left the state-of-the-art room without comment. Walking down the long quiet hallway that housed the office of the front desk manager and the casino floor supervisor, he tried to plan what he would say to her. 

He straightened his Armani tie and opened the door that led to another world. The world that he'd lived in since he'd been old enough to walk. A world of ostentatious lights, ringing bells and spinning roulette wheels. He paused for a moment to look at his kingdom.

Suddenly all the suave lines he'd cultivated over the years left him and he couldn't think of a thing to say. He was back on the streets for a moment.The grubby little boy looking in on the glamour that he could never touch.

He smoothed his hands down the sides of his legs and stood a little taller. He was Deacon Prescott, dammit. Entrepreneur Magazine's Man of Year two years running. Certainly no woman was going to set him off his goal now.