Chapter 27
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
BIANCA
As we pull up to the Bellair, a line of valets are busy opening the back doors of the stretch limos and Bentleys that idle in front of the casino.
A light show worthy of a Lady Gaga concert casts the front of the building in swirling shades of red, blue, and yellow—a special touch for a special night.
Tonight is the fundraiser for the arts school Georgia supports. It’ll be a who's who of New York society mixed with the underworld's biggest names—much like the opening night of the casino when Daniil and I first met.
We step out of the limo, and with a possessive hand wrapped around my hip, Daniil leads me through the grand lobby with its gilded frescoed ceilings. “This feels strange,” he murmurs. “I never come in through the front entrance.”
With that comment, we’re stopped by a photographer who asks us to pose together in front of a large fountain, the centerpiece of the elegant lobby.
We pose together, one of Daniil’s hands is on my lower back as we’re instructed to smile, and the photographer gets off a bunch of shots.
My smile is stiff, too formal … too forced.
I hope to hell I never see these pictures in print. I don’t want to remember this evening.
Daniil leans forward and whispers into my neck, “Have I mentioned how fucking gorgeous you look tonight?”
I flash him a smile in return, all the while praying he can’t feel my thumping heart or sense the nerves fluttering about in my stomach. Because burning a hole in my crystal-flecked clutch is the final listening device that I need to plant in Daniil’s casino office.
It’s been two weeks since I stowed the last one under the plant, and in that time, Daniil has barely worked out of his office at the Kozlov estate. It’s not that he hasn’t been home, he has, but when he is, he’s spending time with me. It would be appreciated if I didn’t have ulterior motives.
The thing is, I feel strangely relieved knowing that the FBI is probably learning nothing from the other three bugs—two of which are at Daniil’s penthouse that we’ve since abandoned.
It doesn’t make sense that I feel relief.
Because if the feds aren’t getting the intel they want, they’ll only keep on pushing.
And every day that passes, my uncle remains a free man.
Worse, with every day that passes, my feelings for Daniil grow.
And that’s why, no matter what, I have to plant the last bug in the casino office and be done with it.
It’s the one place I believe Daniil still conducts brotherhood business from.
We enter the main gaming room, which looks majestic as usual.
The fundraiser is well underway with New York’s glitterati floating from table to table, air kissing and sampling fancy hors d’oeuvres off the trays of passing waiters.
Just before we step further into the room, I turn to Daniil, straightening his already immaculate tux.
I just need a moment alone with him before we descend into the mayhem.
“Looks like quite an event,” I acknowledge, my eyes sweeping the room. “Will I see much of you tonight? Or are you going to be wheeling and dealing all evening?”
He smiles, pulling me against him and kisses my forehead. “I’ll come find you when I have a minute. Promise me you won’t wander far.”
I nod but can’t look him in the eye. “Sure. But don’t blame me if I lose all your money. I’m a horrible gambler.”
His hand lands on my ass and gives it a quick squeeze. “Spend it like you stole it, printsessa.”
“Are you two at it again?” Kira approaches, beaming at the sight of us. “You look amazing,” she gushes, capturing me in an embrace.
“So do you!” Kira looks stunning with her cat eyes and blond bob styled into a relaxed retro wave like an old-Hollywood movie star.
“Why thank you,” she drawls, fluttering her eyelashes. “Tonight is a good excuse to get stupid drunk and find a willing man to—”
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Daniil interrupts, planting a final kiss on my temple before heading towards Andrei, who’s already in deep conversation with a group of men.
Kira leads me to the blackjack tables and hands me a stack of her chips to get started. “I really don’t know how to play,” I argue. “You’d be wasting your money on me.”
“Who cares?” She shrugs breezily. “It’s for a good cause.”
My legs bounces against the table, nerves alighting my veins. After tonight, nothing will ever be the same. “I’ll watch you first and learn, okay?”
“Great. You’ll learn exactly what not to do,” she snorts, joining the game.
Turns out, Kira is as lousy of a player as she claims. She loses all her chips in about twenty minutes but doesn't seem bothered. “Gonna try poker next,” she says, reaching for a flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray.
Shoulders tight, I consider my next move.
It’s eleven, the room is full, and the guests are drunk enough that the party is really in full swing.
It’s the perfect time to fade into the background and avoid scrutiny, even from the guards who are on the lookout for bigger threats.
No one is paying attention to me, and I need to take full advantage of that.
“I’m going to check out the silent auction,” I say to Kira, gesturing to the far wall of the casino. “Catch up with you in a bit?”
She blows me an air kiss and heads off. I make my way along the periphery of the room, and before long, I spy Daniil and his brothers out on the terrace, huddled in a semicircle with a few other men.
All men. As it always is in this world. Their conversation looks serious, intense even. Like they’ll be at it for a while.
I thank my lucky stars.
Daniil’s office won’t be locked, but it’s usually guarded by one of his men. I’ll feign a headache or illness. What guard in their right mind would turn away the boss’s wife who needs a place to lie down?
Mikhail’s eyes find mine from across the room.
He waves. I wave back and point towards the ladies’ room.
He nods in understanding. Usually, he’s stuck to my side like a thorn, but tonight all the Kozlov’s men are needed to monitor the casino floor, so I have a little more breathing room.
Daniil assured me it’s an invitation-only affair, with the guest list tightly monitored.
With Mikhail’s eyes tracking me, I head towards the washroom, but the moment I am out of his sight line, I take a sharp left, moving through the kitchen and staff lounge area.
It earns me more than a few surprised looks, but I walk with purpose, head held high, knowing that no one will question me.
At the very end of the kitchen, I push through a set of double doors and end up exactly where I want to be. The back stairwell.
The one and only time Daniil brought me to the casino, we entered through the back of the building and used these stairs to get to his office because he didn’t want to walk through the casino floor.
And here I am again. A sickly feeling settles on my skin.
I am about to set the match that will incinerate the Kozlovs and crush my heart. All for revenge.
I’ve ascended only a few steps when I’m yanked back by a hand clamped around my arm. I stumble and fall back into a hard male chest.
“Bianca.” The voice of my worst nightmare hisses in my ear. “Where are you running off to?”
A shiver runs down my spine as bile rises in my throat.
His grip is tight, and he swings me back so I’m facing him head-on.
His eyes are cold and dark, unfeeling. My stomach roils at his presence, but I won’t give him the pleasure of my fear.
Instead, I straighten my spine and feign confidence I don’t feel.
“What are you doing here, Jorge?” I spit, my gaze searching the desolate hallway, hoping that someone, anyone, blasts through the service doors so I’m not alone with Jorge.
“The Zegas are close associates of the Kozlov Bratva now, thanks to you.” His smile is tight; different from what I’ve seen before. Dressed immaculately, he looks no different from any of the other guests, but Daniil would have warned me if Jorge was invited, wouldn’t he?
“Fine,” I say, shaking off his grasp, and crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Why are you here … in this hallway? Have you been following me?”
“I need to talk to you, Bianca, but Daniil hides you away like the crown jewels. You don’t belong here, in this world with a bunch of Russian gangsters.”
“What are you talking about?” I shiver, hating how uncomfortable he makes me feel.
Jorge steps closer, too close for comfort, but unless I start climbing the stairs backwards, I’m stuck in place. “Emilio regrets marrying you off, losing his only living family member, just like I regret losing you. I think about you all the time, mi alma.”
Liar.
An eerie sensation crawls over my skin. I don’t believe a word out of his mouth. He’s never cared for me, and neither has my uncle. I want to know what he’s really after, but I also don’t want to spend another minute in his presence.
Schooling my expression, I straighten my shoulders and channel the confidence my mother always possessed.
She would have shut down this conversation before it even began.
“I’m sorry that’s how you feel, but it’s too late.
You gambled me away, and my uncle forced me into this marriage.
What’s done is done, Jorge. There’s no going back. ”
He smirks, sending ice through my veins. And then he leans down, so his face is inches from my own. “Do you think your uncle would just give you away so easily? Do you really believe the Kozlovs are smarter than Emilio Morales?”
What is he talking about? But I don’t have the time or mental energy to try to untangle his words. I have a job to do, and if I do it well, Jorge and my uncle will be behind bars before I find out what’s really behind his declaration of love.