Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
His mouth curled into a smile, but his eyes didn’t. He glanced at Tim. “Watch your fucking hands.”
Tim moved carefully, patting down his legs, then his arms. He nodded to the metal detector, and Mr. Capece walked through, then collected his phone and wallet.
“Will your men be playing also?” I rested a hand on the door, wondering if we should wait for them to be checked.
“No.” His first word to me, and it was muttered as he looked over his shoulder to his security. “Wait in the car.”
There was a small and silent battle, one where they questioned his decision with a subtle tilt of their heads. He turned back to me, and the battle ended. I pressed on the door, and we entered the hall.
“We have blackjack and poker on the floor.”
I walked slightly ahead of him, the hallway too narrow to allow anything else. He was tall, my shoulders the height of his chest, and I lifted my chin to make sure he heard me as we entered the main room.
“There are only six slot machines, but they are all high limit. The cage allows markers of up to a million dollars, but exceptions are common. Depending on the night, we have different specialty games, and craps on the weekend.”
I motioned toward the cage. “Should I have chips pulled for you?”
He let his eyes move over the room, and I followed his lead, wondering what his impression was of the space. The House was a converted warehouse with floor-to-ceiling curtains around its perimeter, crystal chandeliers hanging from its faux ceiling, marble floors, and enough opulence to hold its own with any high-roller room in town, his included. Granted, we didn’t have the largest hotel in Vegas behind it, or his fifty thousand square feet of tables, but we had bigger names in this room than anywhere.
“There’s a bar in the next room if you are just here to socialize. It’s an invitation-only space.”
There was no need to mention his standing invite. Dario Capece, the poor kid from Louisiana, had been given the keys to the city when he’d married Gwen Hawk, the heiress to the The Majestic casino. He’d turned those city keys into golden handcuffs when he’d transformed the struggling Majestic into the hottest address on the Strip. Now Vegas was his playground, his kingdom, his supermarket. In the ten years since he’d married into money, he’d bought three more casinos, and his legend had grown legs and done the tango.
“I’d like to speak to your boss.” His words were quiet, but I knew they were being picked up by the hidden mics, set into every seam of this building. He turned to me, and in the direct eye contact, I felt unstable, a scrap of paper loose in a hurricane.
Did everyone feel this way? Was this how he’d captured our city so easily, how he’d filled thousands of hotel rooms and seduced the best talent into his workforce? I reached out, resting my hand on the railing and forced myself not to grip it for dear life. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. The owners aren’t here tonight.”
“Ah.” He nodded and stepped closer. I forced myself not to move. This close to him, I could smell his cologne. I could feel the edge of his pants as they brushed against my bare legs.
“I don’t believe you,” he said quietly.
I lifted one shoulder in the most casual way I could and shrugged. “Sometimes people don’t.”
It was a risky move, and I thought of all the stories I’d heard, men who had lost body parts or disappeared, all for playing the wrong way, counting the wrong cards, or saying the wrong things. I met his eyes, tightened my gut, and prepared for the worst.
Then, he laughed, turning back to the floor, his hands resting on the railing, the edge of a grin visible on that handsome face. He was beautiful, in a fierce, wild way. Short dark hair, littered with silver. Big, strong features, a once-broken nose, but handsome lines. He looked like a pretty boy who grew into a man and beat the shit out of the kid he’d once been. He looked like a night full of filthy, delicious sex, and a string of orgasms that would leave you panting and delirious. He looked untouchable.
He looked back at me, and the hint of a smile still touched his lips. “Ballsy. I like that.”
There was a soft touch at my elbow, and I turned and saw Lance, his hoodie and workout shorts replaced with dress slacks and a button-up shirt. I raised my eyebrows, and he leaned forward, kissing me on the cheek.
“I’ll take it from here, B.”
“Nice outfit,” I said quietly before he pulled away. I gave him a small smile and stepped away from the railing, nodding to the visitor. “Would you care for a drink?”