Page 14 of Forbidden Empire

This was where the titans of industry and shadowy figures met to network, negotiate, and seal the deals that would alter the city's power dynamics.

Were most of those deals bordering on illegality? Maybe.

But that was standard in Vegas, after all, a city built on risks and whispers. I had created a refuge where the wealthy could indulge in their high-stakes games, free from prying eyes and the relentless noise of the Strip.

From my shadowy perch on the balcony above the club, I could see everything unfold below me. The dim lighting cast an intriguing glow over the scene, where the most fascinating displays of human behavior took center stage.

In the dark red plush leather booths, men in tailored suits whispered into the ears of women in slinky dresses, their conversations masked by the ambient noise.

Deals were made with a nod or a subtle hand gesture, the currency being lives and fortunes rather than cards or chips.

This was where the real gambling occurred in this town, with not a slot machine in sight.

Beautiful women dressed in shimmering, barely-there outfits weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne flutes, their laughter blending with the clinking of glasses.

This was Vegas, after all, a place where dreams were made and destroyed in the blink of an eye.

Watching over it all, I felt a thrill surge through me, knowing my business was thriving.

The Underworld, as I called it, offered a front-row seat to the secrets that kept my power in this city unbreakable.

I dealt in information, gathering whispered confessions and hidden truths, turning them into leverage and influence. My skill in manipulating this knowledge was unmatched, which earned me respect and sometimes fear. Did I have to seize it through darker means at times? Certainly, but in this world, that was the norm. The empire I had built was vast, a testament to the power I wielded from the shadows.

It should have been enough for me. It might have been enough, too, in some alternate universe where I’d never even heard the name Esme Theodorus, but I would never truly know. Esme had snatched my focus like a hawk plucking a rodent from a field, and I could think of hardly anything else but her.

I was grateful when I saw Ares ascending the curved stairs that led up to my suite. I needed the distraction, but as soon as he saw that I was watching the footage again, he shook his head with disappointment.

“Boss, you’re just playing right into her hands. You know that, right?” he asked.

His eyes, as sharp as steel, fixed on mine with an understanding gaze. Ares was not only my most loyal enforcer, but also one of the few I regarded as a friend. His loyalty was unwavering, and I trusted him with my life. That was why he was the only one permitted to speak so frankly about personal matters like this.

And, unfortunately, he was right about Esme.

That knowledge twisted in my gut like a knife. Her ability to manipulate my emotions was infuriating, and the realization that I was falling right into her trap was maddening.

Rather than responding, I clenched my teeth and reached for the double rye whiskey bottle on my mahogany desk.

The amber liquid sloshed against the glass as I poured another shot, the third in just a couple of hours. Yet, despite the burn of alcohol sliding down my throat, the frustration inside me churned relentlessly, a violent river refusing to be tamed.

I hated the fact that Esme consumed my thoughts, an obsession I despised yet couldn't shake.

Ares understood this unspoken torment. He refrained from uttering the obvious, but the concern etched across his face was as clear as a silent accusation.

“Where the hell could she have gone?” I muttered.

I poured him a whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass in hopes of wiping that judgmental look from his face. His eyes were sharp like daggers, assessing every movement.

“You checked Reno?” I asked, watching him lift the glass to his lips.

“Yep.” He nodded, taking a sip with a twisted smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She’s a fucking ghost in the wind.”

“What about Los Angeles?” I pressed, leaning back against the worn leather couch.

“She’s too smart to go there.” He shrugged, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “But I checked, just in case. No sign of her anywhere.”

“What about Tahoe?” I suggested, picturing the dense woods and secluded cabins. “Maybe she’s hiding in a cabin or something.”

“If she is, she’s hiding very well,” he replied, running a hand through his hair.