Page 1 of His Playground (Owning Vegas #2)

B lood, money, lust, love. It’s all right here. Las Vegas. The place where people come to try to win against the odds. The thing is… the house always wins. And me? I am the house.

This city is my playground. There isn’t a single thing I can’t have.

How did I get to the position I’m in? At the top of the food chain?

That’s where blood comes into play. I worked my way up from the gutter, alongside my three best friends.

Each of us poured our own blood and sweat into becoming who we are today.

And who are we?

I’m Carlo Bianchi, orphaned at eight years old when my parents were murdered. I went through a few foster homes before I landed in the streets, right alongside Louie and Sammie.

Louie, aka bossman, is the one who led us all in the right direction.

He had a goal of owning this city and he made sure he achieved it.

But he didn’t do it alone. He brought us all up with him.

Where some would have easily left us in the dirt, he didn’t.

I owe a lot to the guy. He has saved my life in more ways than one.

Sammie, the gentle giant. And I mean that.

The guy’s a giant . But nothing about him is gentle.

He never shies away from the blood and gore part of the job.

It’s up to us to make sure that the fear we’ve instilled in this city sticks.

Every fucker wants to be at the top, but there’s only room for one—or, in our case, three.

Then there’s Emmanuel. He’s… Well, let’s just say if “psychotic mess” were in the dictionary, you’d probably find his name as the definition.

He found out early in our teens that he was the heir to a Mexican cartel.

His father came and swooped him up, groomed him for the day he’d finally take over.

Which happened a year ago. He still visits Vegas; we do business with him.

It’s how we get our coke. There’s not too many people I’d fear.

Emmanuel, though, you’d have to be a fucking idiot not to fear that man.

Louie bought up a couple of casinos on the strip. We clean our dirty money through all three. Sammie manages Wild Card, Louie runs the Royal Flush, and I’m here at Aces High.

“Yo, Carlo, been looking for you.” Sammie walks into my office.

“Someone die?” I ask, looking at the clock. It’s early. He’s usually not out of bed until at least midday.

“Not yet.” He shrugs.

“Someone about to be?” I raise a brow at him. It’s early but it’s never too early to spill a little blood. The phone on my desk rings. “Hold that thought.” I look to Sammie, as he sits in front of me, before answering the call. “Hello.”

“Ah, Mr. Bianchi, there’s someone at the front desk for you,” a nervous-sounding woman says.

“Tell them I’m busy,” I grunt.

“Ah, sir, I think you should come out here,” she replies. “It’s a… sensitive matter.”

“Got it.” I cut the call and pick up the pistol from my desk.

Sammie stands and follows me out. “What’s going on?”

“No idea,” I tell him. “Be ready.” I don’t know what’s so sensitive , but I didn’t like the woman’s tone. She seemed scared.

When I get to the front desk, I scan the entire area. People are milling about as usual and I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“Sir, over here.” A young redhead waves to me.

“What’s going on?” I ask her.

“She just came up and mentioned you by name. She won’t tell me anything else. And I don’t know where her parents are.” Nicole , according to the name tag, points to a little girl standing over by the side of the counter.

My brow furrows. Who the fuck leaves a kid at a casino?

“Thanks, Nicole,” I say before approaching the little girl. I kneel down so I’m at her level. “Hi, I’m Carlo. You were asking for me?”

“Mhmm, this is for you.” She hands me an envelope with my name on it. “I’m Jasmine, but you can call me Jazzy. My mama says you’re my daddy.”

I’m frozen to the spot. Who said I’m what now?

I glance up to Sammie, whose face looks just as shocked as I feel. “What the fuck?” he mouths.

“Who is your mama, Jazzy?” I question the kid as I rip the envelope open.

Dear Carlo,

I’m sorry this is how you’re finding out about our Jazzy. I need you to take care of her for me because I can’t anymore. Don’t let her end up in the system. Please. Not like us. She’s a good kid, the best.

XX

P

P? Whoever the kid’s mother is, she signed with the letter P. My brain scrambles to try to figure out who the fuck I’ve slept with that has a name that starts with P. The thing is, I couldn’t tell you the name of the woman I had in my bed last week, let alone…

I look to Jazzy again. “How old are you?”

“I’m six and a half,” she says.

That would mean I slept with her mother seven to eight years ago. I’ve got zero chance of remembering who the fuck she is.

“Who’s that?” Jazzy points behind me, and I turn my head to see Sammie staring down at her like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle.

“That’s my friend. Sammie. He’s harmless,” I tell her as I push to my feet.

“He looks scary,” Jazzy says, her head tilted upwards.

“Trust me, he won’t ever hurt you, kid. Come on, we gotta go see someone.”

Her tiny hand finds mine, closing around it. I look down at her but don’t have the heart to pull away; instead, I hold on tighter and lead her through the casino.

“Where you going?” Sammie calls out from behind us.

“To see Louie. He’ll know what to do,” I reply.

“You got this? I gotta take care of something,” he says.

“Yeah. Catch up with you later,” I tell him.

“Where are we going?” Jazzy asks.

“To see a friend.”

When I walk into Louie’s apartment, I let my nose do the leading. The smell of food cooking takes me into the kitchen.

Louie turns around and glares at me before he looks to Jazzy. His face softens. “For the love of god, tell me you did not steal someone’s kid.”

“He didn’t steal me. He’s my daddy.” Jazzy smiles, almost like she’s proud of that fact. If she actually knew me, she wouldn’t be.

Louie’s mouth drops open. He quickly recovers, though. “He’s what now?” he says, but it’s clear the question is directed at me.

“She, ah, was dropped off with a note.” I shrug. I need to talk to him about this, but not in front of the kid.

Louie walks around the counter and squats down, holding his hand out to Jazzy. “Hi, I’m Louie. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“My name’s Jazzy. It’s short for Jasmine, like the princess,” she says.

“Well, Jazzy, it’s nice to meet you. Why don’t you sit up here?

I’m about to make breakfast.” He picks her up, which makes her let go of my hand, and sits her on a stool next to the most recent member to join our group of misfits.

Before Jazzy, I guess. “This is my wife, Charlotte,” Louie introduces.

“Hi, you’re very pretty,” Jazzy comments.

“Thank you. So are you, sweetie,” Charlotte replies.

Louie picks up a bowl of fruit and places it on the counter between the girls. “I have some paperwork for Carlo. I forgot to give it to him yesterday,” he tells Charlotte. “Be right back.”

I proceed to follow him to his office before shutting the door behind me.

“What the fuck?” he hisses as soon as it clicks closed.

“I don’t know, man. She was left at reception with a note.” I pass him the letter, reaching up to run a hand through my hair. “I freaked. I didn’t know what to do.”

After reading the note, Louie shoves it in my direction again. “First, you need a DNA test. She might not even be yours. Second, if she is yours, then I guess we have a new addition to the family,” he says, like it’s not a fucking big deal. A kid was just left at my casino.

“I don’t know the first thing about kids. Or being a father,” I admit while doing my best to stay calm.

“I don’t think there’s a manual. Just… feed her, keep her clean and safe. It can’t be that hard.” He makes it sound so easy, like it’s as simple as keeping a puppy.

“Right. I can do that.” I nod. I can keep her alive, can’t I? Fuck, what was her mother thinking leaving her with me? “She’s tiny. How hard can it be?” I look to my best friend for reassurance.

“Exactly,” Louie agrees. “What does she know about her mother?”

“I don’t know. I came straight here.” I didn’t have time to do much else.

“Ask her. Find out whatever you can, so we can track the woman down,” he says.

We both exit the office and I take Jazzy’s hand as we leave Louie’s penthouse— or should I say their penthouse?

That’s right. My best friend married a woman after knowing her for just a couple of days. I’d say he was insane, but I like Charlotte. And I see how… obsessed he is with her.

There’s only ever been one woman I’ve felt that way about and she’s off limits. Unattainable.

“Where are we going now?” Jazzy asks.

I stare down at her. How is she not freaking out? She’s been left with a complete stranger. “Home,” I tell her.

“Where’s home?”

“Back at Aces High. I have a penthouse there.”

She pauses, her little brows wrinkling in the middle. “You live in a casino? Is it as nice as Louie’s house?”

“Nicer, but don’t tell him that. He’s the jealous type. And now I guess you live in a casino too.” Fuck, I’m gonna fuck this up. I can feel it. “What’s your mama’s name, Jazzy?” I add, casually.

“ Mama , silly.” Jazzy laughs.

“Okay, what does she look like?” I try again as we make the trek back to Aces.

“She’s pretty. Don’t you remember?” Jazzy says.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to lie, to tell the kid that of course I remember her mother . But I don’t want to start whatever relationship we’re going to have with lies. “I don’t. I’m sorry. It’s been a really long time. Do you know why she left you with me?”

“Do… do you not want me?”

Fuck, now she sounds like she’s about to cry. I’ve been a dad for all of five minutes and I’m already making the kid cry.

“I didn’t say that. Who wouldn’t want a princess of their own?” I stop and bend down to look her in the eye. “I’m just trying to understand why she would drop you off and not come see me herself.”

“She had to go,” Jazzy says, sounding even sadder now.

“Is she coming back?” I ask.

“I don’t think so,” she tells me.