Chapter 2
ALESSIO
Las Vegas is home, and tonight she’s looking particularly sinful.
I’m leaning against the bar of the casino I manage for my family—and when I say family, I mean the kind that solves problems with baseball bats and concrete shoes. The Andretti name opens doors in this city. Sometimes it also closes them permanently, but that’s neither here nor there.
The casino floor spreads out before me like a glittering battlefield. Winners and losers, dreams made and shattered, all under the watchful eye of security cameras and my personal oversight. It’s intoxicating, really. All this beautiful chaos, and I get to orchestrate it.
My scotch is expensive, my suit is Italian, and my mood is decent for a Saturday night.
The pit boss catches my eye and nods. Everything’s running smooth as silk.
Good. Last night we had some college kids trying to count cards, and I had to have them dragged out kicking and screaming.
Bad for business when the customers start wondering if they’ll make it home with all their teeth.
I’m scanning the floor out of habit when I see her.
Holy shit.
A woman is cutting through the crowd like her life depends on it, and from the look of raw terror on her face, it probably does.
She's dressed in black pants and a white button-up shirt. The little black apron around her waist makes me think she must be a waitress at one of the many restaurants in the casino, not one of my casino floor servers.
She’s tall, athletic, with curly black hair that’s coming loose from whatever she used to pin it back. Even in full panic mode, she moves like a dancer. Or a fighter.
My cock takes immediate interest, which is inconvenient timing considering she’s clearly running from something.
That something turns out to be Tony and Leon, two of our soldiers who apparently think chasing terrified women through my casino is acceptable behavior.
It’s not.
The woman—waitress, judging by her uniform—looks over her shoulder and nearly trips when she sees how close they’ve gotten.
The fear in her eyes does something weird to my chest, something I don’t particularly want to examine.
I’ve seen fear before. Hell, I’ve caused most of it.
But this woman’s terror makes me want to break things.
Starting with Tony and Leon.
I abandon my drink and follow them into the alley behind the casino. It’s where we usually take people who need attitude adjustments, and the irony isn’t lost on me that I’m about to provide one myself.
They have her pressed against the brick wall, boxing her in.
“I don’t know where he is,” she’s saying, and I can hear the fire underneath the fear. “He wouldn’t tell me.”
“See, that’s a problem,” Leon says, stroking his ridiculous mustache. I’ve told him a dozen times he looks like a porn star from the seventies, but does he listen? “If we can’t find him, we gotta get the money somewhere else.”
Her gray eyes—Christ, they’re beautiful—go wide with understanding. “You can’t be serious! I didn’t borrow money from you people. That’s not how debt works.”
Smart girl. Even scared out of her mind, she’s calling bullshit on their logic.
“Too bad for you,” Tony says, leaning in close enough that she flinches. “We’re not chasing that deadbeat all over the country. You’ll do just fine.”
When Leon grabs her wrist and she cries out, something primitive and violent unfurls in my chest.
“Tony. Leon.” My voice cuts through the alley like a blade, and both men freeze like deer in headlights. “Step the fuck away from her. Now.”
The color drains from their faces so fast I’m surprised they don’t pass out. They know exactly who they’re dealing with, and more importantly, they know what happens to people who displease me.
“Boss,” Tony stammers, backing away from the woman like she’s radioactive. “We’re just trying to collect on a debt.”
“Fifty grand,” Leon adds helpfully. “Her ex owes fifty grand.”
I don’t look away from the woman as I ask, “Who authorized the loan?”
“Luca.”
Perfect. My cousin won’t give a shit about the money. I could end this right now. Send these idiots away, pay off the debt myself, and let this gorgeous stranger disappear back into whatever life she came from.
But I haven’t been this attracted to a woman in a long time, and I’m not usually known for my self-restraint.
“I’ll handle this,” I tell them, my tone making it clear the discussion is over.
“You sure, boss?” Leon asks. “We could always just—”
“Did I fucking stutter?” The words come out low and deadly. Both men practically trip over themselves getting out of the alley.
Now it’s just me and her. She’s pressed against the wall, trembling, but there’s something sharp in her eyes. She’s scared—terrified, actually—but she’s still thinking. Still trying to figure out what kind of danger she’s in now.
“What’s your name?” I ask, taking a step closer.
She flinches back against the brick, and I catch the quick way her eyes dart over my expensive watch, my tailored suit, how easily those two soldiers obeyed me. Even scared out of her mind, she’s putting pieces together.
“N-Nina,” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper.
The gold nameplate on her uniform confirms it. At least she’s not lying, which is smart. Lying to me would be a very bad idea.
“Well, Nina.” I keep my voice gentle, non-threatening. No need to make this worse for her. “Looks like you’re in some serious shit.”
She swallows hard, her hands pressed flat against the wall behind her. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” The words come out small, defensive.
“‘Course not. But from what I gather, you have terrible taste in men. Your ex borrowed money from very dangerous people.” I shrug, trying to keep this conversational. “Sometimes life’s a bitch that way.”
Something flickers across her face. Anger, maybe, or just exhaustion. “I’m not responsible for his mistakes,” she says quietly.
“Tell that to the guys who were about to rearrange your face. Someone has to pay, and your ex is in the wind. That leaves you.”
I watch her process this, see her shoulders sag with the weight of it. “Fifty thousand dollars,” she whispers, like she’s testing how the words sound. Then she looks up at me with those gray eyes. “I’m a waitress. I don’t have fifty thousand dollars.”
“Then you’ll be paying it off for a very long time,” I tell her. “Interest compounds daily.”
Her face goes pale. “So I can never pay it off.”
I don’t deny it. Her mouth falls open slightly, and I can’t help but imagine what else those lips could do. The thought should disturb me more than it does.
“Please,” she whispers, and I can see her hands shaking now. “I can’t pay that kind of money.” She swallows hard, seems to gather what little courage she has left. “I’ll do anything else. Anything.”
And there it is. The opening I probably shouldn’t take but absolutely will.
I try to talk myself out of it for about half a second. This is wrong, different from the usual violence and intimidation that comes with the territory. But my cock is hard as steel watching her tremble, and I can’t shake the feeling that the universe just dropped an opportunity in my lap.
She’s looking at me, desperate and afraid, and I know I should send her home, be a good man for once. But good men don’t last long in Vegas.
“I can make your problem disappear,” I tell her, keeping my voice low and steady. “I’m part of the organization your ex borrowed from.”
“Organization.” The word comes out barely above a whisper, and I see her shrink back against the wall. She knows what that means in this city.
“Let’s just say I have the authority to wipe your slate clean. For the right price.”
I take another step closer, and she presses herself harder against the wall. “One night in my bed, and your debt vanishes. You never have to look over your shoulder again.”
Her breath hitches, and for a moment I think she might bolt. But there’s nowhere to run, and we both know it.
The silence stretches between us. I can practically hear her heart hammering against her ribs. She glances toward the mouth of the alley, then back at me with those wide, frightened eyes. I wait, watching her mind work through options that all probably suck.
I know I’m a dirty bastard for even giving her this choice, but I won’t push her on it. If she agrees, I want her to be completely willing.
When she finally speaks, her voice is barely steady. “One night,” she says, the words small and scared but determined. “That’s it.”
She’s terrified of me, but she’s still trying to set boundaries. Brave little thing.
I hold out my hand, and when she takes it, her fingers are ice cold. “Then you’ll have my help,” I tell her. “But first, you keep your end of the deal.”