Page 2 of His Playground (Owning Vegas #2)

Chapter One

Carlo

I stare at Jazzy, who is sound asleep in the guest bedroom.

Her room now, I guess. She’s only been here a couple of days, but I made sure she had everything she could want or need.

I had my assistant go out and buy up everything she thought a six-year-old girl would want.

The guest room that used to be dressed in plain navy and whites is now covered in pink, purples, and every other fucking color in the rainbow.

Jazzy seems happy, though, and that’s the main thing. I know she’s sad too. But for some reason, the kid hides her emotions. Almost like she’s not supposed to be sad, so she pretends to be okay. At least that’s the impression I’ve gotten of her over the last few days.

She’s a smart kid, and whatever she knows about her mother, she’s not saying anything. I have no idea why she’s here. I did take Louie’s advice and had the doc run a DNA test. I’m still waiting for the results, but I know this little girl is mine.

I don’t know how I know that, but I feel it.

I have this overwhelming need to protect her, shield her from the horrors of this world, and make sure she never has to go without like I did.

Hearing the elevator doors open in the foyer, I close Jazzy’s door and walk away.

I asked Sammie to find me a staff member he trusted who would also be suitable to babysit.

Without hesitation, he suggested Lailani, one of the reception girls from the Royal Flush.

He then went on to warn me that she was strictly here to watch Jazzy and that under no circumstances was I to touch her.

I was intrigued as to why he felt so protective of the woman, but I didn’t question it. I don’t have the time to delve into my friends’ lives right now. My own is keeping me plenty busy at the moment.

“Thanks for coming. She’s asleep and I shouldn’t be too late.” I didn’t expect Sammie to tag along. “You here to babysit too?” I look from him to Lailani.

“No, asshole, I’m here to make sure you get to the Royal in one piece,” he says.

We’ve got a meeting with a rival family, the same rival family whose guy put a hit out on Louie. Except the fucker shot Charlotte instead. Granted, she did push Louie out of the way and literally jumped in front of the bullet when she saw the gun. If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is.

Sammie and I walk into the office and find Louie already sitting behind his desk, looking pissed off as fuck that he has to be here. I get it. He wants to be with his wife. Charlotte gets anxious when he isn’t around. Understandable, considering she thinks everyone is out to kill her husband.

“Bossman, you look like shit,” Sammie says.

“Fuck you,” Louie replies.

“Remind me again why we’re entertaining this meeting?” I ask.

“Because we’re avoiding a full-blown war,” he says. “Do I need to also remind you that you’ve got a daughter now? I’ve got a wife, and he’s got… fuck if I know what he’s got.” Louie throws an arm out towards Sammie. “But we have more to lose now than we ever have before.”

“Good point.” I nod.

“How’s Jazzy settling in?” he questions me.

“She seems oddly fine. She shouldn’t appear so comfortable being left with a complete stranger. Makes me wonder what kind of life she’s had.”

“She say anything about her mother yet?”

“Not a thing.” I shake my head. I don’t know why she’s so tight-lipped about the woman. You’d think she’d want me to find her. Why is she so unbothered by the prospect of never seeing her mother again?

A knock at the door stops our conversation. Time for business.

When Joey Marciano walks in, it takes all of my strength to keep my expression neutral.

I’ve wanted to kill this motherfucker for years.

He’s a piece of shit, but he is a Don, and if I killed him, I’d only start a war we don’t want to be a part of.

He’s also the father of the only woman I’ve ever wanted to keep.

Of course, that’s a closely-guarded secret only that same daughter and I know about.

I tune out most of the talk between Louie and Joey. That is until I hear the fucker tell the bossman that he has a deal for him, one that will benefit both of our organizations.

“My wife was shot. That’s not something I’ll ever forget. Or forgive,” Louie says.

“Understandable.” The old fucker nods his head.

“That said, it would be rude of me not to at least hear you out.” Louie looks directly at the man. “What kind of deal we talking?” Always one for opportunity, my friend’ll listen, hear what’s being offered before making a decision.

“A merger. Of families,” Joey says. “I have a daughter, Antonia. Twenty-one, marrying age.”

My hands curl into fists. Did he just fucking offer up his daughter?

Sammie nudges me in the side, and I school my features. But fuck that! This fucking asshole is going to marry his daughter off to some fucker like a piece of meat? Not on my watch, he isn’t.

“We’re not in the business of arranged marriages,” Louie says firmly—and thank fuck for that .

“It will bring peace to our two organizations, Louie. Think about it,” Joey presses. “Antonia will be married regardless. It will either be to one of your men or someone from another family.”

My heart is racing. Someone from our organization, or someone from another family . There is no option here. Like fuck am I going to sit back and watch the woman I’ve loved from a distance be marry’d off to anyone who isn’t me.

“I’ll do it,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. Nonchalant.

Louie turns to look at me. “Excuse me?” He blinks, the shock evident on his face.

“I’ll do it. I’ll marry her. For the family. It’s a good idea.” I lift a shoulder, doing my best not to show just how much I want to fucking do this. I need to fucking do this.

“You want to enter into an arranged marriage?” Louie asks.

“Sure.” I nod.

“Fine.” He turns back to Joey. “Let’s make a deal.” The two men shake hands, sealing my fate.

My lips tilt up. I can’t fucking wait for Antonia to find out who she’s being offered to on a silver platter. I can already picture her reaction—and let’s just say she won’t take too kindly to the idea. No doubt she’s going to try to kill me.

In exchange for the union, Joey gave us his blessing to kill his guy. The old fuck claimed he had no clue as to what his staff was doing behind his back. Do I believe him? Fuck no. But I know when to keep my mouth shut, and this is one of those times.

As soon as the office empties out, we make our way down to the basement to deal with Marciano’s guy. “You really want to do this?” Louie asks me.

“Yep.”

“Why?” he presses.

“You said it yourself: I have a daughter now and every little girl needs a mother,” I lie. Antonia might become my wife, but I’d never try to replace Jazzy’s mother, whoever the fuck she is.

“That’s not a reason to marry a stranger,” Sammie chimes in.

“Do ya wanna take my place?” I raise a brow at him. Sammie is allergic to commitment and relationships.

“Fuck no.” He shakes his head.

“Didn’t think so.”

After Louie got a call telling him he needed to get back to Charlotte, we agree to leave the fucker in the basement on ice. Which means I’m able to return home earlier than I thought.

Lailani is on the sofa with Jazzy curled up on her lap. “Did she wake up?” I whisper.

“Yeah, she had a bad dream,” she says, keeping her voice low.

“I’ll take her back to bed. You can go home. Thanks for doing this,” I tell her.

“Anytime. She’s a great kid.” Lailani smiles down at Jazzy.

“She really is,” I say, scooping up my daughter.

Fuck, I’m still not used to that. Daughter. I have a fucking daughter. Never in a million years did I think I’d have a daughter.

Jazzy stirs as I gently lay her on her bed. “Carlo?”

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.” I pull the blankets up over her body, tucking them in at the sides, exactly how she instructed me to do it her first night here.

“Will you stay? Don’t leave me,” she pleads.

“Sure. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now, kid.” I sit on the floor next to her bed, and she closes her eyes.

I don’t know when I drifted off, but I wake up to tiny hands shaking my shoulder and a giggle so fucking innocent it’s intoxicating.

There’s not much in my world that’s pure and good.

But Jasmine? She’s all of that. Blonde curls, big green eyes, and a smile that literally brightens the room greet me as I look up at her.

“Morning,” I grunt.

“You slept on my floor again,” she says.

“Did I? It’s a comfortable floor.” I smile at her.

“I don’t think so.” She shakes her head. “I’m going to make you breakfast.” Jazzy jumps up and runs out of the room.

“Don’t touch the stove!” I yell out after her, then quickly add, “Or the knives.”

Fuck, she probably shouldn’t be in the kitchen.

I push myself up and follow Jazzy, stretching and cracking my neck along the way. It’s not the first time I’ve slept on the floor, but I definitely prefer my bed.