Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Aero
The scent of cigar smoke, expensive whiskey, and desperation hangs heavy in the air as I step into the VIP lounge at Il Ritorno.
It’s every bit the den of high-roller sin I expected, velvet-draped booths, low lighting, and girls spinning slowly on raised stages, their bodies catching the light like lures cast into the mouths of sharks.
My jaw clenches when I spot Lacey on one.
She’s not just dancing. She’s baiting the whole damn room.
Feeding the high rollers who drool like she’s a prize to be bought, not a woman with a fire in her chest and scars on her soul.
And I hate that it turns me on. I hate that my heart’s in my throat, and my cock’s already straining in my jeans.
She moves like a damn fever dream, all satin curves and sinful legs in a slit-up-to-there red number.
Her long blonde hair spills down her back in messy curls, and when she twists at the waist, I catch the glint of sweat at the base of her neck.
I swallow hard, unable to contain the mix of emotions that burn through me.
The heat, the rage simmering low in my gut, twisting with every slow curve of her hips.
I’m hard, angry, and seconds away from tearing this place apart.
My fists clench so tight my knuckles crack. I pushed her straight into the lion’s den when I didn’t tell her she was mine.
Dammit, Lacey.
Then she sees me. Her eyes lock on mine, and the air between us snaps like a live wire. Her body falters for a half-beat before she covers it with a sultry sweep of her hand over her hip, dragging her palm down her thigh. My thigh.
If I’ve learned anything about this woman, it’s that she’s her own person, and defiantly stubborn to the fucking core.
So, here I stand just inside the entrance to the VIP lounge, the velvet curtain at my back doing nothing to hold me upright.
I watch her work that damn stage like sin incarnate and dammit does my cock twitch in response.
I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s beautiful as hell in that dress that hugs every inch of skin, her arms gloved up to the elbow, fingers skimming the split of that damn skirt.
I swear to God if I have to stand here one minute longer and watch one more prick toss chips at her feet, I’m going to lose my shit.
I just haven’t decided if I want to kill every man in this room before or after I fuck her.
I grimace as she turns and I lose eye contact with her. I take a step forward, already ready to storm the room, but a hand clamps down on my shoulder. “Boss wants to see you.”
I side-eye the suit who thinks he can lay hands on me without consequence. “I don’t give a fuck what your boss wants. I have no reason to meet with him.”
Just then Lacey turns back into view and the tension in my shoulders releases a notch, except this fucker doesn’t remove his hand. He grips tighter.
“He said you’d say that,” he says smoothly. “He told me to tell you that it’ll be worth your time.”
I turn my head slowly in his direction.
“And if that doesn’t sell it…” the fucker grins, “It’ll cost you her.”
That gets my attention. My fist twitches. That’s the last damn thread holding my temper back. I pivot, grabbing the front of his jacket and slamming him into the wall behind us.
“You really wanna test me tonight?” I growl low into his face. “Because you just offered me a reason to cover this floor with your teeth.”
To his credit, he doesn’t piss himself. Just adjusts his tie like I didn’t just slam him into concrete and mutters, “I’m just the messenger.”
I shove him back, my jaw clenched tight, blood roaring in my ears.
“Fine. If Ricci wants to talk, I’ll talk.” And then I’ll watch this fucking place burn down. Again.
He leads me through a hallway off the lounge, past a steel door and down a long corridor lined with security keypads. We stop in front of a thick black door. He unlocks it and pushes it open. I step in.
First thing I see are the screens. The walls are lined with them.
Dozens of security feeds flickering in real time of roulette tables, poker tables, hallways, back exits, the parking garage, even the VIP room.
The camera is angled just right to catch Lacey’s stage, and even in black and white, I feel the punch of seeing her.
In the center of the room is a sleek black desk, polished to a mirror shine. And behind it sits a man, but not the one I expected.
“You’re not the only one with eyes in this town, Aero,” His back is turned toward me as he faces the console behind the desk and taps a button.
The wall-mounted screen flares to life, showing security footage from earlier of me stalking through the casino, shaking down one of his men for answers. Slipping past the rope and into the lounge once I got them.
“You should’ve known better than to think you could sneak into my house without me noticing.” His voice drips with amusement. “I admit, I underestimated you, but something told me she meant more to you than you were letting on.”
My knuckles crack as I ball my fist.
“What do you want?” I grind out, my jaw clenched so tight I can feel the muscles in my neck knot.
He laughs, a sound that’s sharp and condescending as he spins slowly in his chair. My stomach drops.
Garett leans back in a designer suit, ringed fingers steepled in front of his mouth. “It’s been a long time, brother.”
“I’m not your brother.” I growl my voice coming from deep in my throat.
“But you could have been. You could have had a part of all of this if you didn’t cast my sister aside like discarded trash.”
I fucking cringe. I haven’t thought about her in years. Which is why I didn’t see this coming. “I was never meant for this world. All I was to her, to all of you, was muscle.”
Garett raises a glass of whiskey to his mouth and takes a slow sip before lowering it, “Choose your words carefully. Out there, you may run your little gang, but you’re standing in my house now.”
Garett leans back in his leather chair, a smirk curling the corners of his lips as the footage of Lacey dancing continues to play behind him on one of the screens.
He’s smooth, confident, and wrapped in a tailored suit that reeks of money.
He’s just like his father. Playing the game behind the scenes, pulling strings and manipulating everything around him.
Everything about him rubs me the wrong way, especially his fucking smile.
I want to rip the snake’s smile off that smug, pretty face.
“You don’t scare me, Ricci. None of you ever have,” I growl, my jaw ticking. “So stop playing games and tell me what you want.”
“You’re not scared of me yet, Aero,” Ricci says, voice low. “But you will be. See, the problem is, you don’t know what I’ve got in mind for Lacey.”
My stomach turns, a sudden weight pressing down on my chest. His words are deliberate, taunting. He knows exactly what I’m feeling right now. He knows that the mere mention of her name can make me lose my damn mind.
“You touch her, you make a move on her, and I’ll bury you.” My voice drops to a dangerous whisper. The kind of whisper that promises pain. “You understand?”
Garett stills, and for a moment, I think he might actually take me seriously. But then a slow smirk spreads across his face as his hand smooths over the surface of the desk like he’s enjoying the moment.
“I don’t think you understand, Aero,” Ricci says, his voice calm, as if we’re discussing business. “I have plans for her. Big plans.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “She’s smart, strong, resourceful...and she knows how to get people’s attention. I can use her.”
The air between us crackles with tension, thick with the violence simmering beneath the surface. I feel my teeth grind together, my hand shaking with the need to grab him by the throat and squeeze until his smug smile disappears.
“You haven’t changed a bit. Still a spoiled prince that thinks he can take anything he wants.” I say through clenched teeth.
Ricci leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t have to take her. I’ll make her want to be mine. And you’ll stay the fuck out of my way.”
The audacity of this fucker is enough to push me to the edge.
I don’t even think. My fist swings forward, crashing into the side of his desk, and the whole room shakes with the force.
Papers scatter, the metal legs of his chair screech across the floor, and his smug smile falters for the first time.
“You’ll have to go through me, Ricci,” I growl, my voice a low rumble in my chest, “and trust me, you don’t want that.”
He finally stands, his expression now as cold as ice. There’s no amusement, no cocky smile, just the raw, dangerous man beneath the surface. “Lacey’s already made her choice. The rest is just a matter of time.
I move fast. Faster than he can react. Before he can even think to call for help, I grab the edge of his desk, flip it over with a roar of rage, and watch as the contents crash to the floor, the glass shattering, papers flying into the air like confetti.
Ricci stumbles back, his face pale. “You’re insane.”
“Don’t forget it,” I snap, stepping forward.
I swing my fist, catching him square in the jaw.
He crumples back, a bloody gash splitting his lip.
His eyes flash with fury as he wipes the blood away, but there’s no time to savor the victory.
I shove the door so hard it smashes against the wall, the echo of it cracking down the hallway like thunder.
“Stay the fuck back,” I growl, pushing past Ricci’s men.
The music from the VIP lounge is still pulsing with some slow, seductive rhythm that makes my blood boil. I stalk through the hallway, my boots slamming the concrete, heat still rolling off me from that bullshit Ricci tried to sell me.
I shove past the velvet rope like it’s not even there. Some idiot in a suit steps into my path. “Sir, you can’t…”
I flatten him with one punch. No hesitation. His body crumples against the polished floor, and a scream cuts through the music. I don’t even slow.
My eyes lock on the stage before my brain even catches up. Lacey’s body stills, like some part of her knew I was coming for her. Her lips part, her breath catches. But she doesn’t move.
Good girl.
I storm up to the platform. She’s still watching me, those big blue eyes locked on mine like she already knows what I’m about to do.
“Time to go, baby.”
She nods once. No protest. No fight. Just trust.
I slide an arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground like she weighs nothing. Her body molds to mine, arms around my neck, face buried against my chest as I turn and carry her down the stage like a fucking war prize.
Voices shout around us. Footsteps thunder. Three of Garett’s guards rush toward me, weapons not drawn but hands twitching like they might. I tighten my grip on her and keep walking.
“You take one step closer to me,” I growl, “and I’ll show you just how much I don’t give a fuck whose house this is.”
They hesitate. One lunges anyway. I spin, kick a low table into his knees and send him sprawling. Another moves to grab Lacey from my arms.
Big mistake.
I ram my shoulder into his gut, knocking the air from his lungs, and send him crashing into the bar. Bottles explode. Glass rains down.
Still, I don’t put her down.
The third man stops, glances behind him. And then I hear Garett’s voice, cold and clipped. “Let him go.”
His men step aside, rage in their eyes, but fear in their bones.
I keep walking with Lacey held tight against me, and push through the stunned crowd on the casino floor like Moses parting the fucking sea. No one stops me. No one dares.
The doors burst open with the shove of my shoulder, and the night air hits us hard, I head straight for the bike, already running hot from when I left it.
I set her down only long enough to swing a leg over and pull her with me, straddling the seat. Her arms wrap around me without a word.
“You okay?” I ask, barely more than a growl.
She nods against my back, her breath warm through my cut.
Good. Because I’m not.
I hit the throttle, peel out hard enough my tires scream against the pavement, and we disappear into the dark with her pressed to my spine like she belongs there.
Because she does. And no one is gonna take her from me.