Page 4

Ten Days Ago
Vito
Hudson Casino and Resort
Hudson Valley, New York
“I’mtired of waiting for you to notice me.”
At the strange voice, I glanced up from my phone. A young woman, early twenties, was now perched on the bar stool next to mine. “I beg your pardon, signorina?”
She nudged a glass full of amber liquid forward with her fingers. “I bought you a drink because I’m tired of waiting for you to notice me.”
I had to admit, as opening lines went, it was pretty good. “Forgive me. I was working.” I lifted my mobile as if to prove it. “But that is a terrible excuse for ignoring a beautiful woman.”
And she was beautiful. Shorter hair than I usually liked, but it was cut in a style that fell to her shoulders and flattered her face. She had big brownish-green eyes and long eyelashes. Full lips.She wore a jumpsuit with a halter top that crisscrossed her small tits and showed off her long limbs.
“Done with your inspection?” she asked before sipping her cocktail.
“It’s only fair, as you were inspecting me earlier.”
“True. So, what do you think? Do you want the drink?”
I finished the remnants of my whiskey and passed the empty glass back to the bar. The bartender, who knew me, gave me a surreptitious nod to let me know the drink was safe. I had a long list of enemies, even here outside my territory.
I lifted the fresh glass, courtesy of my new friend. “Grazie.” I took a sip. The flavor was different from my drink. Better.Muchbetter. “What is this?”
“Do you like it?”
“I do.”
“That is a hand-crafted bourbon whiskey from New Orleans, aged in charred white oak barrels. It has notes of jam and caramel, as well as pepper. My favorite part is that they finish aging it in a port cask.” She tilted her head toward my empty glass. “What you were drinking was mass-produced shit.”
Resting an elbow on the bar, I angled toward her slightly. “How does a girl like you know so much about bourbon?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised by what I know.Capisce?”
“Clearly not my language, judging by your pronunciation.”
She laughed, not offended in the least. I enjoyed the way her eyes sparkled, the little lines that bracketed her mouth when she smiled. “I only know the important Italian words. Barolo, Chianti, Valpolicella, Barbaresco, prosecco?—”
“Okay, okay.” I felt a grin tug at the edges of my mouth. Unusual, but not unwelcome. “You like our wines.”
“And I like your men.”
Direct. I admired it. I hadn’t been looking for a woman to take upstairs tonight. Usually, I came to the casino to work, notplay. I had an ownership stake here, along with Luca Benetti, and I came here often to check up on my investment.
An hour ago, I sent my guards to bed and stopped in one of the bars for a quick drink. I’d intended to catch up on work, then go up to my room. But maybe my plans could change? I could already see how the rest of the evening would go. Talking, flirting. Another drink. She’d move closer, perhaps brush my arm or my leg. I would let my gaze linger on her mouth. Perhaps she’d take a shallow breath, her pulse racing at the base of her neck, then she’d lick her lips. I’d suggest going somewhere private to talk. She’d follow me to my suite.
I deepened my voice and let my accent thicken. “This is a coincidence because I like American women.”
“That is a coincidence.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Maggie.”
“Vito.”
We shook, her grip firm and strong. I could tell she worked with her hands. No long, painted fingernails, and her skin was slightly rough. I didn’t mind it. I sometimes worked with my hands, too.
I sipped the bourbon again. Nice. Maybe I could take a bottle back to Toronto. “And what are you drinking?” I asked, pointing to her cocktail glass.