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CHAPTER 2

VINCENT

“ Y ou know you can’t keep her here forever, don’t you?”

My cousin’s insight is unwanted. I love Luc like a brother, but sometimes he overshoots his role as my consigliere and crosses the line from advisor to equal , and that simply isn’t acceptable.

“ Luciano ,” I say, calling him by his full name to emphasize my point. “You’re my right-hand man, not my equal. Don’t forget your place.”

“Apologies, boss,” he says obediently. At least Luc’s loyalty is unwavering. “It’s just that I feel a responsibility as your advisor to tell you that having the dancer here complicates things.”

I stand at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the city below. Vegas is a fickle beast of a city in the morning. Even the city itself looks half hungover in the early light as the businesses on the strip slowly grind to a start. Las Vegas’ nighttime energy is unparalleled, however, its daytime shows less appealing aspects.

My casino empire comprises a good portion of things here, and my crown jewel is the casino right under my feet at the bottom of this massive building. It’s three floors of the most luxurious gambling imaginable, and two floors beneath that of illicit family operations.

“I know what I’m doing, Luc,” I say with a slight snarl. “I wouldn’t have become the youngest and most feared mafia don in Vegas if I didn’t. Don’t question me.”

He nods and walks away, knowing when he’s overstepped and exercising enough discipline to fall back in line quickly. Luc might be a couple of years older than me at thirty-eight, but in the mafia, being lethal trumps everything else.

After he goes, my mind wanders back to the lovely ballerina in the guest room down the hall. He’s not entirely wrong—keeping Isla in this penthouse isn’t a lasting solution. I can’t monitor her constantly; eventually, others, such as her dance instructor, will notice. But for now, she’s not going anywhere. Not until I figure out how to handle the mess that she inadvertently stumbled into. I would have immediately removed anyone else who had seen a kill. But something about her big, brown eyes that glinted with a golden tint even in the dim backstage lighting of the theatre gave me pause. Isla Hart caught me off guard, and before I could act, she ran .

Unfortunately, escape wasn’t an option, not even for her. I can’t leave any loose ends untied, not in my line of work.

Frustrated, I pushed my dark hair across my face, sighing. It was a moment of weakness to let her live, and I detest weakness. Regardless, she’s here now and I’ll just have to deal with it until I come up with a better idea.

“You called for me, boss?” Marco De Rossi asks as the door opens, and he steps inside.

“Yes, I have a new assignment for you, Junior. How would you like to be assigned as a bodyguard to the ballerina I have just acquired ?”

Junior is young, twenty-five at most, and not only is he a skilled soldier, but he’s also deeply loyal. He’s also still young enough that he hasn’t lost his moral compass yet, like most of the men in the Cosa Nostra . He’s the perfect choice to keep Isla protected and contained.

“Yeah, boss, sure. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her.”

“Good. Isla requires constant supervision when I’m absent. She’s not to leave this penthouse under any circumstances. Treat her like a hostile witness, because she is one—one who must never reveal what she has seen.”

“You got it, sir,” he nods. “I’ll make sure she’s kept under wraps.”

I nod, and Junior takes his cue to leave. Now, there’s only one more thing that I need to do before attending to other pertinent business today. I need to lay down the house rules with Isla. I’m curious to find out if she’s still as fiery as she was during my previous visit to her room. Perhaps some time alone has given her a chance to rethink opposing me.

But as soon as I unlock the door to her room and step inside, I can see that she hasn’t simmered down at all.

“Hello again,” I say in a carefully measured tone. “Are you hungry?”

There’s a tray of untouched food sitting on the table in front of the window that my staff brought in for her. Clearly, she found it unappealing.

“No,” she says. “I’m restless and I want to leave this place.”

“Then you’ll be delighted to know that I’ve come to give you a tour of the penthouse.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Isla frowns. “Let me go.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but there’s no leaving for you. I’m certain that you already know why .”

“I told you I won’t say anything,” she argues. But no amount of desperate pleading is going to gain her freedom. It’s a waste of her breath and of my time.

“Come,” I command as I motion toward the door. “Let me show you your new living arrangement.”

“I am not living here.” She crosses her arms over her chest and straightens her perfect posture to dig into her stance. She’s rebellious, that much is very clear. Even when her eyes betray how terrified she is, she still carries herself with dignity. That’s an admirable quality.

“Let me make this very clear,” I say as I stand in the doorway, laying down the rules. “Your obedience is not optional here. It’s required . You will stay here as my guest without causing trouble. You will eat, train, and obey me at every turn. And in exchange, you’ll have free roam of this place. The kitchen is full, the space is sprawling enough for you to keep up with your dancing, and there’s a study full of books and a complete sound system at your disposal for your entertainment. You will have no access to phones, internet, or anything outside these walls. And if you try to escape, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

“And how long is this supposed to go on for?” She asks with a shaking voice that is audibly on the edge of breaking. “How long do you intend to keep me here?”

“As long as it takes me to come up with another plan.” I hold out my hand for her to take as a gesture that I won’t bite. “Trust me, you could be in a much worse situation. You’re safe here, and I have an entire staff at your disposal. You can think of yourself as a princess—a lucky one that is still alive after having witnessed a murder.”

Isla scrunches up her delicate face in disgust. “I’m not a princess here. I’m a prisoner .”

She walks toward the door, refusing my hand and waiting for me to step aside and let her pass through.

“Your perspective on the matter is up to you,” I say as I walk out into the hallway with her at my side. “The rules here are not . Follow them explicitly, or there will be hell to pay.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” she teases as her eyes spark with that quiet, rebellious nature again. “I forgot that you’re the Devil .”

I paused the rest of my business this morning to show Isla the penthouse, and here she is pushing her boundaries, watching to see how far I will let her go, and I like her fire.

“So, you’re really rich,” she says after we finish touring all the luxury amenities. “You must be used to living in a place like this.”

“I don’t live here. I own this entire building, including the casino downstairs. It’s just one of my many investments in the city.”

It’s also my primary hub and a front for a lot of the family business that I head as a mafia kingpin, but I leave that part out. She doesn’t need to know any more about me than is required to keep her obedient and at arm’s length. She’s already seen too much as it is.

“Is that supposed to impress me?” she asks as we walk back to her room.

“Impressed, scared, delighted—it’s up to you how to feel,” I say with a smirk. “Just know that you are under my control while you are here.”

“You’re a real arrogant prick, aren’t you?” Isla hisses at me as she walks over to the table where her breakfast tray remains untouched.

I walk closer, but not too close. Being around this woman leaves me feeling strangely vulnerable and distracted. I much preferred watching her dance on a stage to having her captive in my penthouse.

“Brave words,” I say in a low voice. “Especially from a woman who has seen me kill a man with my bare hands.”

Isla visibly shudders. For a moment, her body language subtly shows her submissive nature when she’s not putting on a brave facade. But I’m quickly reminded not to mistake that submissiveness as weakness when she picks up the vase on the table beside her and hurls it at me. I’m sure she intended to hurt me with it, possibly even render me unconscious, and try to make a run for it. She wouldn’t have made it far, though, since I have men guarding every entrance and exit.

My reflexes are sharper than a cat’s, thanks to years of finely perfected brutal efficiency. No one, particularly not a pretty ballerina, can surprise me. I swat the vase away with one swift sweep of my hand, sending it crashing to the floor where it shatters into pieces.

For a moment, Isla stands in frozen horror, wondering what kind of angry wrath I might unleash in response to her outburst. But instead of getting angry with her, I simply smile and kick the broken pieces of glass away with my shoe.

“Are you going to adhere to my rules without any further incident, Isla?” I ask her.

“ Probably not .”

Her chestnut curls tease a reddish-brown tint as the sunlight streaming through the window touches them.

“Good, I like fire,” I say as I turn to leave.

Behind the closed door, I can hear what sounds like her breakfast tray hitting the floor. I’ll allow one tantrum. Then I’ll send the maid in to clean it up. Indulging Isla by letting her test me is admittedly not a good idea, but I can’t help feeling that it excites me a bit—this defiance of hers. I’ve met men four times her size who cower before me as if I’m an untouchable God . But Isla Hart, this fragile figure with fire in her eyes, just pitched a vase at my head, and fuck if it didn’t send a bit of excitement pulsing through my veins.