Page 9

CHAPTER 8

VINCENT

T wice now, I’ve let myself want Isla. It took every last bit of self-restraint I had not to get in that bathtub with her. If I had been in the penthouse instead of watching her through the cameras as she took off her panties in bed, who knows what I might have done, and if I could have controlled myself. I dislike this feeling of being out of control. And yet here I sit, only half-listening to Luc as he tells me about Angelo Baron’s activity in the city. I need to focus, but I can’t .

“Vincent?” he says for at least the second time. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, continue,” I lie. He doesn’t need to know that I’m distracted, although I’m guessing he can already tell.

I listen to him now, especially since it concerns the man I hate most in the world and my biggest rival mafia boss in Vegas. I wish I could have killed Angelo during the night of the bloody coup that killed my parents instead of the man he sent to do his dirty work. One day, I will .

“He’s increased his activity over the last several days,” Luc continues. “We’ve been tracking him and his men, and even his wife.”

“Good,” I nod. “I want to be advised of every move Angelo makes. I won’t let him get a foothold in my city.”

“He already has a foothold. Just because you have wiped out most of his underground channels and taken out half his men, doesn’t mean the Barones are gone. It took years to take them down a few notches. I get that, but trust me when I say he is very much still a powerful threat to you and the entire Moretti family.”

“You’re an excellent advisor, Luc, and I appreciate you,” I nod. “But I can handle Angelo. I’ve had him on his back heels for years now.”

My cousin doesn’t seem as confident in my handling of Angelo as I am. Luc is a good consigliere, but he’s opposite me. My ruthlessness and impulsive violence contrast with his polished, meticulous, and disciplined approach to negotiation. When we were kids, he used to beat me at chess all the time. Then I’d get mad and flip the board over. Once, I even threw one of the chess pieces at his face. The tip of it stuck in the flesh of his cheek and left him with a scar after he pulled it out. Subsequently, I grew up to become the boss of this family and he used his strategic chess skills to negotiate with our partners. I do value his insight, but sometimes I feel Luciano is secretly envious of me. I got all the power and glamour, and he got a position being told what to do.

I’m eager for a rematch against Barone. The sooner I can get my hands on that bastard, the better. He might still be a mafia boss, but he’s nothing more than a flashy, decadent, merciless sociopath. And there’s still one thing left I need to take from him— his life .

All of my hits on Angelo thus far have come up short. Despite his arrogant facade, he is a player with deep insecurities who has been hiding behind his men for years. He knows that I’m coming for him, and he blames me personally for all the losses he’s suffered and all the hits that the Barones have taken.

Good —I want him to know that it’s me at the root of all his past humiliations. I want him to know that killing him isn’t just a matter of “if” I can get to the man, but when .

“So, what is it that Angelo is trying to leverage now?” I ask, assuming that it’s a new drug trafficking ring or protection racket he’s setting up in his corners of the city.

“A casino .”

“Come again?” I ask as my eyes narrow. Casinos are mine . I own that empire. I run the largest, most upscale, and socially elite casinos in all of Vegas, and the money that I funnel through them rivals the GDP of a small country. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”

“He was able to bypass the usual hoops and regulations in order to set up shop before we saw it coming,” Luc continues. “He’s got a cop on his side who helped him do it under the radar. It’ll be up and running by next week. It’s not huge, nothing to rival your operation, but it’s a shot across the bow to your business interests, especially since he’s offering a new spin on the gambling experience.”

“What new spin?”

“Not sure yet. Word is that he’s got some sort of new, high-end entertainment.”

“I have high-end entertainment at my casinos, too,” I snarl angrily.

“Apparently, not like whatever this is that Angelo Barone has got up his sleeve. This is an escalation, Vincent. He’s making an obvious play at your niche near your territory.”

“Yes, I can obviously see that. Who’s the dirty cop that he’s been working with?” I already know what name Luc is about to spit out before he says it.

“ Detective Hal Monroe .”

Of course it is. That cop is a thorn in my side. There are plenty of corrupt cops on the force. Hal Monroe is one of the most manipulative and ambitious of them all. He likes to play multiple sides for his own personal gain, something that I found out years ago before offering to put him on my payroll so that he’d make life difficult for the Barones. Although I can see that apparently, I’m still not paying him enough to buy his loyalty. Unfortunately, dealing with these kinds of situations with the cops can be tricky.

“Increase whatever we’re paying him to get Hale back in line,” I instruct.

“Already tried that,” Luc shakes his head. “He’s not biting. It’s not just about the money these days with him. I think the guy still holds a grudge against our family.”

I was only a kid back then. Hale was just a few years older than me when my father humiliated him. It was Monroe’s own fault—he was parading around the neighborhood with his father’s badge. Talking tough about how he was going to be some “big time investigator” one day and how he was going to take down families like ours. Hearing this, my father used Hale as a warning to deter future problems. He not only got Hale’s father, the old Detective Monroe, demoted to a desk job, but he had a few of my cousins, including Luciano, rough the kid up. To this day, I don’t think Hal has ever put that in the past. He became a highly intelligent investigator within the force, with corrupt ethics and an axe to grind. Now, it would seem, he’s ready to pay me back for the sins of my father.

I sigh and run my hand through my hair as I lean back against my chair. Angelo Barone is on the move. Dirty Detective Hal Monroe has sidled up to my rival, and the questions are swirling around the missing ballerina, aka a witness to a kill I committed. Things are volatile and need to be dealt with. It’s a terrible time for me not to have my head in the game. Thanks to the pressing distraction that Isla is wielding over me like some sort of magical curse.

“I’ll handle it,” I say, not wanting to discuss this further.

“Maybe the first thing you should do is let the girl loose,” he says. It’s an unwanted suggestion that instantly gets my ridge up.

“I said , I will handle it, Luc.”

He stands up, ready to leave my office, but not quite finished. “You know I love you like a brother, Vincent. Though sometimes I feel like I could do a better job at running things than you are.”

That’s a dangerous thing to say to me, and he knows it. But Luc has felt overshadowed by me for years, and I think his struggle between envy and loyalty sometimes walks a fine line.

I extend my arms, inviting a strike.

“If you disagree with the way I run things,” I say slowly. “Then I invite you to challenge me, Luciano. You know, that’s the only way power shifts here.”

His expression changes as if he’s thinking about something else. “Of course not. You’re The Devil of Vegas, Vincent. Despite our collective violent past, I don’t think I have the moral constitution for the job.”

I couldn’t agree with that more. Luc is more like a Saint than anything else—lethal when he needs to be, but always looking for salvation in others.

“But speaking of invitations ,” he says just before he leaves. “Don’t forget about all of our business partners that you invited to the gala tonight at the club.”

The charity gala is an event that I host downstairs at the casino every year. Tickets are by my personal invitation only, and the high-dollar cost of attendance does indeed go to a charity of my choosing. But the purpose of the event isn’t actually one of a charitable kind. The gala is a front for one of the largest social gatherings that brings together all of my underground business partners in a single place at once. It’s a chance for them to see my power, wealth, and influence altogether, and for me to ensure their continued cooperation and the ongoing investment of their funds being funneled through my casinos.

For the first time, I decide that this year I’m going to bring a date .

“What’s this?” Isla asks as I walk in and hand her the stunning cocktail dress I had Zara pick up for her.

“It’s a dress,” I reply dryly.

Isla rolls her eyes at me and frowns. “I can see that, but why are you giving it to me?”

“I want you to wear it. I’m hosting a charity gala in the building tonight. One that will host many high-profile guests across all sectors of the city. I’d like you to be my guest .”

“You want to take me on a date ?” she asks in wide-eyed astonishment.

“That’s a fairly simplistic categorization,” I say, feeling slightly amused. “But yes . I want you to dress the part and look nice.”

“Like arm candy.”

“Like the sophisticated dancer and beautiful woman that you are,” I say.

“Hang on a second,” she says as she considers my proposal. “Aren’t you trying to hide me? If I attend a high-profile event as your date, then won’t that let everyone know that you’re keeping me as a prisoner here?”

“Not if it looks like you’re accompanying me willingly .” It’s a plan that I thought of right after Luciano left my office. He was right about me not being able to keep Isla as a hidden captive forever, and since I refuse to kill her, then what better solution than to change the narrative entirely.

“That will never work,” she protests. “Word will get out, and it will get back to Madame Durant that you have me here. She’ll never believe that I disappeared and re-emerged here as your?—”

Isla stops short, unsure how to finish that sentence.

“What even am I if not your prisoner?” she asks.

It’s a good question, one that I haven’t figured out an answer to yet.

“I think Celeste Durant will have no trouble believing it,” I say as I lay the dress down on the top of her bed. “Especially when she hears it straight from your own mouth.”

“What? She’s going to be there at the gala?”

“I have many acquaintances in the city that I deal with. You might recognize some of them.” I leave and let Isla get dressed, knowing now that she won’t refuse to accompany me. She’ll jump at the chance to see her dance instructor again, and she likely thinks that Celeste Durant will help her escape by my side tonight. But what Isla doesn’t yet know is that everyone in attendance at my club tonight will be under my strict control, including Madame Durant. That woman won’t do anything to jeopardize her precious dancer’s safety, and I’ve already warned her not to cause me trouble.

I smooth the lapel of my black suit with the palm of my hand while I wait for Isla in the penthouse living room. I’m in no rush to get down to the event. Being fashionably late lets people know they are on my time and not the other way around.

Junior opens the penthouse door to let Zara inside.

“Please tell me that the dress fits,” she says as the two of them walk in.

I shrug. “Not sure. She’s still in there getting changed. Perhaps you could go see if she needs any help.”

“Sure,” she smiles as she walks past me toward the bedroom. She gives me a cheeky wink on the way. “You clean up nice, Vincent.”

I catch Junior stifling a chuckle from the corner of my eye that he quickly hides. My crew’s youngest, Zara and Junior, remain unspoiled by life’s harsh realities. Unfortunately, they will be. We all are at some point, some more than others.

“Have they beefed up security for the evening?” I ask.

“Yes, sir,” Junior nods dutifully. “Extra men at each door and several sweeping throughout the event all night. There are two guys posted on every floor of the building. One soldier is doubling as bartender, pouring drinks with Gabriel for the event.”

“Perfect.” I don’t expect any trouble inside my club, but it’s my job to ensure that all of my business partners feel safe. Some of them don’t know each other well and may not get along, increasing the likelihood of disagreements. If that were to happen, my men would quickly shut it down.

“Oh, and Alonzo and his daughter are already downstairs too,” he adds.

“He brought Serena? I don’t remember inviting everyone’s family members to my gala.”

“He said that he thought bringing Sera might be advantageous, since she’s part of the dance world. He thought maybe she could monitor Madame Durant for you.”

It’s not a bad idea.

“Fine,” I say. “But I don’t want that girl talking to Isla. I’m not sure how well the two dancers know each other, and I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Understood.” Junior talks into his earpiece and advises Alonzo of my directive. “Yes, that’s what the boss?—”

I look up when Junior cuts off mid-sentence to see what’s caught his attention, and when I see Isla standing in the hallway just outside the living room, my breath stops.

She is stunning .

“I’d say I picked out the perfect dress,” Zara says upon seeing my reaction. “What do you think?”

I can’t even bring adequate words to my lips. I’ve seen nothing so lovely in my entire life. Throughout my time, I’ve encountered many beautiful women who have visited my casino and attempted to end up in my bed. But never—and I mean never —have I seen a woman this gorgeous .

Isla’s chestnut hair falls in thick curls against her bare shoulders, the tips of it just touching the top of her black, sequined cocktail dress that hugs her slender curves like a glove. Her svelte, dancer’s figure and long legs peek out from the dress that barely reaches to cover the top of her thighs. How she balances on her high heels makes it look easy as she walks toward me with effortless grace. Once I considered destroying this exquisite creature, but now I only want to worship her, as if she is the goddess who has finally been able to match me. A new need rises within me—I don’t simply want to keep Isla; I want to possess her.

“You look very nice,” I say when I collect myself. It’s a drastic understatement, but I’m not going to allow her to see my desire, even if I have to make a conscious effort to keep it from visibly presenting itself, as it now threatens to do with the tightening of my pants.

“Thank you,” Isla smiles. There is such an unspoken beauty about her, it’s nearly breathtaking.

I hold out my arm for her to take as Junior opens the door for us. When we step onto the elevator, I lean closer to whisper in her ear.

“Remember, my little ballerina, tonight you belong to me .”

“How could I forget?” she says almost teasingly. Her light brown eyes sparkle as she looks up at me, and I am instantly enthralled by her willingness to play along with this charade tonight. Obviously, she doesn’t have much of a choice, but how she’s handling it seems convincingly willing .

The elevator reveals the casino’s main floor, a glittering, crowded scene. Tonight is a private event. This event is exclusive; only my invited guests are present. It’s hard not to notice how all eyes turn to stare at us as we step off the elevator. Normally, I would attribute that reaction to one of fear and respect—an acknowledgment from my guests that they revere my reputation as a brutal mafia boss. But tonight, I think they are staring at Isla . Her beauty commands the room in a way that my power doesn’t. It’s a sort of awe and appreciation that rivals the power of fear and loyalty that I normally elicit.

I feel her hand tighten around my arm as we walk into the crowd of waiting guests, and I glance over at her in surprise. Quickly, she loosens her grip again as if it were an involuntary reaction of nerves, not unlike stage fright. She’s fast to correct herself and not show me any weakness, and it makes me think that I’ve vastly misjudged Isla. She’s not just a fragile ballerina; she’s strength and subtle power cloaked in innocence.

I mingle with my guests, solidifying new business deals and arrangements with a single nod and handshake. I keep Isla on my arm beside me the entire time. Mostly, all she does is smile and nod, which is what I expect her to do. But when Alonzo walks toward us with his daughter in tow, I can feel Isla bristle.

“Hello, Isla,” Sera greets her with a tight smile. “I haven’t seen you at the studio in a while. How have you been?”

Sera’s tone is almost as sharp as her pointed nose and high cheekbones. The bun on the back of her head looks like it’s so tight that it’s pulling the skin on her face upward. She’s pretty, but has the jagged, harsh features of her father.

Alonzo laughs and gives his daughter a warning pat on the side of her arm. “You know where she’s been, Serena. Don’t cause trouble, you twat.”

He won’t be winning “father of the year” anytime soon. Alonzo is a lethally effective underboss, but he isn’t what I’d call a good man. He keeps his daughter on a short leash. His mafia status grants Sera the privileges of wealth and access, but it limits her freedom. Much like I’ve limited Isla.

“Fine,” Isla responds curtly. It’s clear that she recognizes Sera and doesn’t think much of her. I’m betting on there being a dance rivalry buried beneath their posturing. Like her father, Serena’s ambition may exceed her best interests, coupled with insecurity. She eyes the place where Isla holds onto my arm, and a look of bitter envy sweeps across her face.

“Hello Vincent,” Sera smiles as she turns her attention toward me. “Thank you so much for inviting me here tonight. I always look forward to a chance to see you.”

She reaches out her hand for me to take, wanting me to plant a small, customary kiss on the top of her knuckles. When I do, she leans in closer to showcase the cleavage of her dress.

“Alright, Sera,” Alonzo says as he pulls his daughter back alongside him. “Mr. Moretti has more important guests to attend to.”

He glances between his daughter and Isla on my arm. They’re clearly young, and roughly the same age. If I’m not mistaken, Alonzo isn’t entirely approving of how I look at Isla. I couldn’t care less.

“Madame Durant is waiting to speak to you at the roulette table,” Alonzo says, glancing across the room at her. “She’s been waiting there since the start of the gala.”

With Isla still on my arm, we walk toward the ballet mistress. I can practically feel Isla’s heartbeat quicken and her step lighten as we get closer to her instructor. When we get to the game table, she abruptly lets go of my arm and flings herself into Celeste’s arms. The old woman wraps her in a hug and strokes the back of her hair. I briefly considered recalling Isla, then changed my mind. I let them have this moment before interrupting.

“Good to see you, Celeste,” I say as I hold out my hand toward her.

She lets go of Isla and gives me her hand, even as she grimaces doing it. When I extend the same courteous kiss atop her fingers that I did with Sera, Celeste Durant gives me an entirely different reaction of disgust.

“How long are you going to keep my dancer?” she says in a low voice. “She’s missing rehearsals, you know.”

Her voice is unwavering, but her eyes tell an entirely different story. Madame Durant isn’t concerned with missed rehearsals; she’s concerned with Isla’s safety. She wants her out of my clutches and back where she can safely watch over her.

For a moment, she hesitates. Both women are aware they don’t hold any power here, and neither desires the other to suffer because of me.

“Actually, Madame,” Isla says. “If it’s okay, I think I’d like to stay here for a while longer. Vincent has allowed me to keep up with my training during my absence from the studio.”

Celeste gives me a soft glare as the tension between the three of us builds. I remind her of her role. “The Madame and I also have a few arrangements ,” I say. “I’m sure she wouldn’t take issue with you extending your time here with me. Would you, Celeste?”

She clears her throat before answering and turning back toward her dancer. “Of course not. We will all be awaiting your return to the troupe, Isla, and I look forward to having you back as soon as you are ready.”

I pull away after watching the women’s sad smiles. I don’t want either of them getting any ideas.

“I can’t believe she fell for that,” Isla says with a delicate frown as we walk back through the crowd. “I can’t believe that she thought I would actually want to stay here instead of returning to the studio.”

“She didn’t. She knows you were lying.”

“But then why?—”

“Madame Durant has a complicated past,” I say ambiguously. “An acquaintance from my past. I guess you could loosely call us old friends .”

Isla wrinkles her nose at me. “I doubt that.”

“After she lost her daughter, she?—“

“Wait, what? I didn’t even know that Madame Durant had a daughter,” she interrupts.

I instantly regret having said anything. It’s not a topic that I want to think about or discuss, especially not here and not tonight. But before I can shut it down, we’re interrupted by a man who will soon come to regret having accepted my invitation to this event.

“ Isla Hart , the prima ballerina, isn’t it?” a man in the crowd asks as he steps toward her. “I have to say, you’re even more attractive in street clothes than you are up on stage.”

Instantly, my protective nature kicks into overdrive, and I step in to shut this guy down.

“It’s uncustomary and rather rude to make a pass on a woman who’s holding onto another man’s arm,” I say as I flash him a charming warning smile. “I’m sure there are plenty of other lovey ladies for you to hit on inside my casino.”

I’m a gentleman outside work, despite what many think. That said, I have my limits.

“Yes, of course,” he laughs. His unflappable demeanor is suspicious. “I just assumed that since she’s so young that she might not be yours yet .”

With that, I slide my arm out from Isla’s and stand her behind me. With a snap of my fingers, Junior is here to keep an eye on her for me while I deal with this arrogant prick.

“You don’t look familiar to me, friend,” I say to the man who now realizes he’s crossed a line and pissed me off. “But let me help you understand how much it displeases me to be insulted inside my own club.”

I roll up the cuff of my sleeve, revealing a forearm with every inch covered in ink. I ball my hand into a clenched fist.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he says as the glass in his hand shakes. “I was merely complimenting the lady on her?—”

I lift my arm to throw the punch before he’s done talking. But before I can land it squarely on his jaw, Alonzo intervenes and pulls me back.

“Whoa, boss, hold on!” he says, stepping in before things get out of hand, much to this guy’s relief. He turns to the man and apologizes before sending him to the bar for a complimentary drink on the house.

I shake Alonzo’s grip off of me. “You’d better have a really fucking good reason for having done that,” I growl at him as I try not to make a scene at my event.

“Yeah, I do. That guy was one of our new business partners, an ally. You almost clocked a new client. Maybe you should take a walk and try to calm down a bit, Vincent. Your obsession with this girl threatens to weaken our business deals if you keep up like this.”

I want to shoot back at him, but I know Alonzo is right in this instance. So, I simply turn around and grab Isla back by the arm again.

“We’re leaving now,” I say to her as I walk toward the exit.

“Sir,” Junior says from behind me. “What would you like me to tell your guests?”

“Thank them for coming. Tell them I have business to attend to. Just handle it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Elevator doors closing, I released Isla’s arm, composing myself. But instead of standing there quietly, she presses me on what just happened.

“What the hell was that about?” she asks with fire in her eyes. “I didn’t need you to come to my rescue. That guy was harmless, and I was finally enjoying being out of that god-awful prison for a moment. Why did you ruin it? I was doing what you told me to do.”

“That prick was not harmless, trust me,” I say, still combating the adrenaline rushing through my veins. “And it wasn’t about you.”

“What was it about then?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I turn to look at the elevator keypad. Wishing that the ride to the penthouse would hurry so that I can get out of this enclosed box with Isla looking like temptation personified.

“I don’t get it,” she continues as she steps closer and stands right in front of me. “Why keep me here? Why rush to my defense as if you’re protecting my honor or something? Why me ?”

I feel a sort of feral desperation take over as I look at her. I am Vincent Moretti , the most powerful mafia don in the city, and yet here, inside of my building with this feisty little ballerina, I feel powerless with her.

“Because,” I blurt out without thinking. “You’re the only thing I can’t control.”

Just as the elevator dings at the penthouse level, Isla reaches her hand around and pushes the button to close the doors.

“What are you—” before I can finish speaking, she lunges toward me and puts her mouth on mine.

The kiss coming from this soft, gentle dancer is hard . Her slight, tiny body presses against mine with all of her minuscule weight. I fight against the overwhelming urge to pin her against the wall of the elevator and take her now .

When I feel her tongue slide against my own, it’s more than I can bear. In an instant of incredible internal conflict, I realize that if I don’t pull away, I risk letting Isla Hart ruin me .

Since I can’t allow that to happen, I seize the moment to regain control and see if I can bring her to her knees. I smash the elevator’s “hold” button with my fist. Isla looks at me with uncertain eyes and opens her mouth to ask what is happening. I don’t give her the chance to ask that question. Instead, I flip her position, pinning her back against the cold metal wall of the elevator, and slide my hand up her dress.

Her body tenses, but she can’t pull away, not that she seems to want to. My eyes lock with hers as I slip my fingers inside her panties, and I waste no time in parting her open like the petals of a flower. Isla can’t do anything to hide her body’s physical display of desire when my fingers touch the wet heat between her legs. With slow, languid strokes, I circle my finger over her clit and am rewarded with an instant reaction on her part.

Isla’s body quivers almost instantly, too soon in any other instance, but seeing as though I’ve stopped the elevator, I decide not to draw this out too long. Another time, perhaps, and I won’t let her come to orgasm so quickly. But for right now, my goal is to show her I’m in charge here, and not the other way around.

Her head tips back against the elevator, and her knees tremble. I use my other arm to hold her up and prop my knee between her legs for her to balance on. For a moment, it almost feels like she’s trying to resist letting herself go. But I won’t allow that kind of defiance. I want her body to respond to me now , and so the pace and pressure of my circling finger increase. I lean forward, letting my lips graze the side of her face as I whisper in her ear.

“I admire your tenacity, Isla, but let’s see how long it lasts, shall we?” No sooner do I ask the rhetorical question than I shove two fingers inside of her. The outside stimulation is now matched with what my fingers do inside her body, and it doesn’t take long before it tips her over the edge.

I hold her as her body crumbles into tremors and keep her upright as her legs collapse beneath her. The act also aroused me, making it difficult to release her despite my stiff and throbbing cock. I pull myself off of her, but barely.

For a second, we stand there both looking breathlessly at the other. Then, I push the elevator button to start again. After the doors open a few seconds later, I’m still uncertain about who enjoyed that moment more. “Go inside, Isla,” I say as I stand there looking at the penthouse, chest heaving with a desire that threatens to rage out of control.