23. Dante
CHAPTER 23
DANTE
I pull up to the valet and drop my keys in the outstretched hand of the young guy who races over to hop in the front seat of my car. I crane my neck but the line out the door goes on for longer than I can see. Throngs of people loop around one of the hottest new places on the Strip, Artiste.
The guy at the door pulls it open for me and nods at me and Patrick, letting us through while the people waiting on line let out a collective groan that they aren’t low-key illicit celebrities like us.
“I’m glad you were around,” I say to Patrick once we get inside. “I’ve been wanting to try this place, and I needed to get the hell away from Matteo and Heaven. That apartment is ground zero, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near it once your sister really got going. Matteo has his work cut out for him tonight, that’s for sure.”
Patrick snickers. “Sounds like they’ll be having some hot makeup sex later.”
I groan. “I don’t need that mental image burned into my memory, thanks very fucking much.”
“Then let’s work on creating a different one, yeah?” He claps me on the shoulder and walks over to the bar where he finds an open spot between two bleached blondes who vaguely resemble Playboy bunnies.
But there’s only one blonde on my mind right now, contorted into a number of positions that make my dick tingle with anticipation.
Patrick waves over the bartender, a tall brunette with tits that are spilling out of the top of her shirt — much like most of the women in here tonight.
I guess it’s a ‘when in Vegas’ thing.
“What can I get for you tonight?” she asks, flashing perfect white teeth at us.
“Macallan, neat,” I respond.
Patrick nods. “Same for me, thanks.”
She gives us a wink and heads off to the glass shelf where the best whiskey is housed. A minute later, she places the crystal highball glasses on the lacquered bar in front of us.
“Feels a little like déjà vu, yeah?” Patrick says, taking a long gulp of his.
“Yeah, I’d really like to forget that fucking night at Tatiana ever happened,” I grumble. “Although, having your idiot brother here in town makes that hard.”
“I haven’t seen him in the past week,” Patrick says. “And neither have Quinn and Niall.”
“I’d hope that would mean he’s dead, but I know that’s not the case.”
“So what’s the plan, Dante?” Patrick looks at me with a lifted eyebrow. “He’s the one keeping this wedge between our families. It’s killing my father, even though he’d never admit it because he’s a stubborn ass. Niall and Quinn are thawing and it pisses Conor off. I think he’s on the brink of doing something really stupid to secure his place as boss of our family.”
“There’s no shortage of stupid when it comes to Conor,” I grunt, draining the rest of my glass. “I don’t know what Matteo and Heaven are going to do if he just shows up tomorrow. If it were me, I’d shoot him on sight to keep him away from my family.”
“But the Russians will still collect, whether or not he’s out of the picture,” Patrick says.
“They have their own beef with us.” I shake my head. “If Conor really did pile on and screw them over, they’ll come for us. All of us. Nobody will be safe. That’s what has Heaven and Matteo so crazy. They know it. And there’s no guarantee that we get rid of the Russians once we pay, either. They like to leave their own big, red marks, you know what I’m saying? We need another plan.”
“Yeah, so us killing Conor doesn’t do a damn thing to help any of us.” He rolls his eyes heavenward. “This is so damn twisted, Dante. My mother is probably rolling in her grave over this whole thing.”
“Well, find peace in the fact that he tried to kill Heaven, and he’d do the same to you if he had the chance.”
“True.” He smirks. “Fuck him.” The bartender puts down two more highballs of whiskey in front of us.
She nods toward the opposite end of the bar, and two brunettes raise their glasses and flash their best come-hither looks at us.
“Come on, let’s go down there and say thank you,” Patrick says, picking up his glass. “It’s been a stressful week. I need to unwind.”
“In that case, you can have both of them. I’m good.”
“Seriously, man?” He furrows his brow. “Who are you?”
I shrug. “I may have something going with the nanny.”
Patrick laughs. “You kinky fucker. Isn’t she a kid? Heaven says she’s young.”
“She’s not that young. No younger than those girls who sent over the drinks,” I say. “And I’m not that old, dick.”
“I thought you were on your way outta here after the christening. Back to the love affair you have with your sniper rifle.”
“Yeah, well, my plans kind of changed recently.”
“Like when you started fucking the nanny?”
I smirk and take a sip of the whiskey. “Maybe.”
“Well, it looks like both of us are gonna get laid tonight.” His eyes take on a wicked glimmer and he picks up his glass. “You sure you don’t want to sample the buffet?”
“Nah, I’m good with my a la carte selection. You get your fill, though.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He laughs. “Funny, you know, ’cause there are two of them.”
“You’re hysterical, Patty.” I roll my eyes and twist away from him, checking out the rest of the dining room when a flash of blonde hair falls into my line of sight…in a dress I’ve seen before.
Unfortunately, that’s not the only thing I’ve seen before.
Boris, the Russian guy who works for the Volkov Bratva, is sitting in the back corner of the dining room.
And his dinner guest is none other than Anya.
My Anya.
I blink fast to see if it’s really them, or if the whiskey is making me hallucinate.
It isn’t.
I clutch the glass tight in my fist.
Her uncle.
Her fucking uncle ?
He’s the bastard who vowed revenge on my family, on behalf of the Volkov Bratva.
A chill settles deep in my bones.
Vigo worked for the Volkov Bratva, too…
Blood rushes between my ears and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The Band-Aid.
The five-pointed star.
The familiar way she tasted and felt pressed against me.
It can’t be a coincidence.
I tried to push those things to the back burner, tried to ignore them, but those inklings still festered deep in my mind.
Now they manifest into huge questions that only Anya can answer.
Will she, though? How far is she willing to go to keep me from the truth?
And the biggest question remains — what in the hell does she want from my family?
Only seconds later, I get the exact answer I was looking for.
Conor Mulligan strolls in from a side door and comes up behind Anya. I can see her body stiffen as he hisses into her ear.
I wanna know what he said.
I wanna shoot him fucking dead .
With a rocketing pulse, I watch as Boris gets up from the table and leaves the dining area. Anya and Conor are left alone, and the tension between them is so thick, I can see it hovering in the black cloud above them.
They’re working together.
Against us.
And now I know the truth.
The question is, what am I going to do with it?
I glare at their table, clenching my fists.
Welcome to Vegas, Conor.
Are you feeling lucky tonight?
Because I sure am.