Chapter 4
Vince
I wasn’t a romantic.
Never had a girlfriend. Didn’t want to. But I thought… I don’t know, maybe she would’ve sent a message. A thank you. Something.
It had been two weeks since the shoes were delivered. I paid extra for timing. Packaging. Signature on arrival. I waited three days. Then five. Then ten.
Nothing.
Maybe manners didn’t exist anymore. I wasn’t desperate. Wasn’t some lovesick fool refreshing his messages at 2 a.m.
But I was here.
At a dynasty event I had no reason to attend, wearing a suit that I made sure didn’t have bloodstains on. I stood on a second-floor mezzanine bar, watching Madeline Thorne like I was casing a target.
I finished my drink.
She was outside, on the balcony, half her hair pinned back. The dress was pale pink, tight in a way that pissed me off.
She didn’t even know I was here. That annoyed me more than it should have. Because most of the fuckers in here made a point to avoid me, or talk business.
I pushed the door open and stepped out beside her.
She turned. Her eyes widened for half a second before she masked it with that dynasty calm, but I’d already seen it.
I leaned against the railing beside her. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” I lied.
She blinked. “I could say the same.”
I studied her face. Her voice was normal, but something in her eyes wasn’t. The life that usually danced behind her words felt dimmed. She stared out over the city like she wanted to disappear into it.
“You alright?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. Of course. How are you?”
“Fine.”
Her brows twitched. She didn’t believe me. But she didn’t push. Neither of us said anything for a second too long.
A man I didn’t know approached with a woman on his arm—an heir, clearly, judging by the cut of his jacket and the crest on his cufflink.
“Maddy,” he said. “We were just wondering if you were joining us for dinner.”
She smiled with that dynasty polish. “I already ate, but thank you.”
Liar.
I knew she hadn’t. I might have been watching her before the event too. Because apparently my new hobby was stalking.
They left after another round of polite words. I watched them go, then looked back at her.
“Do you want to leave?”
She turned to face me. “With you?”
I nodded once.
She studied me for a long moment. “Okay.”
Under two minutes I had her in my black suv and the glass partition up. I studied the curve of her jaw. She looked expensive and delicate. And the longer we drove, the more I hated how quiet she’d become.
I just wanted her to eat something. Speak. Acknowledge that I showed up. Acknowledge me.
Maybe I was desperate.
“I want you to eat.”
She turned her head slightly but didn’t look at me. “And talk?”
“Yeah.”
She laughed. But it wasn’t amused. It was bitter.
“Just say it, Vincent. Say what you really want. What is this? Let me guess, you have footage. Because Crows record everything. Is this about leverage? A trade? Do I owe you something?”
Her voice tightened with every word, like the more she spoke, the harder it got to pretend she didn’t care. “What do you want? You want me to blow you? Is that it? You want sex? A performance? Just tell me the rate.”
Fuck. She thought that low of me. The shock caused me to freeze, took a moment to fully take in the insult.
“I deleted the footage from the elevator. That’s where I went. The same night.” I leaned back into the seat. “You think I need to blackmail a woman to be near me? I’m not that kind of man.”
She turned back toward the window like she couldn’t look at me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not fair. You didn’t deserve it.”
No. I didn’t. But I didn’t say that.
“I’ve just had a bad few weeks. And I’m not used to people doing something for me without wanting something in return.” She looked down. “You were kind. I made it ugly.”
I shook my head slowly. “I wasn’t being kind.”
That made her look at me.
“I enjoyed talking to you. That was all.”
“You enjoyed it?”
“Yeah.”
She was the first woman who didn’t flinch around me. I leaned forward slightly.
“I’ll take you back to the event.”
“No. Unless you don’t want me to come with you.” She shook her head, “I’m sorry. I projected. I made it ugly. I’ve had a bad week, and you… you showed up. And I didn’t know how to handle that.”
I stared at our hands.
“I’m hungry. Really hungry.” Her thumb brushed mine, “And if it’s okay…I’d like to try again.”
“I don’t do pity,”
“It’s not pity. It’s me telling you I’d like to come. But, I understand if you don’t want to after what I said.”
She looked at me like it mattered what I said next.
I nodded once. “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, you tell me. I’ll take you home. Or wherever you want.”
She relaxed back in the seat, smiling as she looked at me.
I stared her hand on mine. “What do you want to eat?”
“Whatever you want.”
I frowned. “That’s not the girl I met last time.”
“What?”
“You had opinions. Fire. Life. Now you’re just—” I gestured at her. “—going through the motions.”
She looked down. “Sorry.”
I didn’t mean it like she had disappointed me. But clearly that is how she saw it. I leaned in, touched her cheek, and tilted her face gently. Fuck, she was beautiful. And clearly trying to hold it together.
“You want takeaway?” I asked.
Her eyes lit up instantly, like I’d offered her something sacred.
“Really, no restaurants?”
“Whatever you want.”
She reached up and touched my hand where I cupped her cheek, her fingers brushing softly over mine. Then her gaze dropped to my other hand.
“You’re still wearing it,” she whispered. I glanced down. Her ring.
“I didn’t take it off.”
Before she could respond, my phone buzzed, twice.
Rome.
I clenched my jaw and answered.
“What?”
“Shit’s on fire. We’ve got a security breach on the west floor of the casino. I think someone tried to skim the drop. Syndicate panic. I need you down here.”
I exhaled sharply. “Coming.” I ended the call and looked back at her. I rubbed a hand down my face. “I’m sorry. I have to go. There’s a situation at the casino.”
Madeline nodded, pulling her hand away from mine like it had burned her.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” The guilt was already eating at me. One night. Just one fucking night to myself that was all I wanted.
“I’m twenty, Vince. Not two. I understand business.”
I paused. Stared at her.
“You’re twenty?”
She arched a brow. “Yeah. Why?”
“Shit,” I said under my breath, more to myself than her. “You’re young.”
Too fucking young for me. Twenty. Fucking twenty. How did I not know this.
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that a problem?”
I didn’t answer right away.
“I’m thirty, fuck, thirty one. I didn’t realize—”
She crossed her arms. “Didn’t realize what?”
“That you’re clearly too young to know what you’re doing.”
She stared at me like I’d slapped her.
I exhaled, already regretting it. “I didn’t mean it like—”
“How old did you think I was?”
“Twenty-four. Maybe twenty-five. Not twenty.”
Yeah. Maybe I had been lying to myself.
“So now it’s a problem. Good to know.”
I ran my hand over my jaw, tried to reel in my anger. “You’re at merging age. I thought you’d passed that.”
Something in her expression cracked. “Wow.”
“That’s not—look, I didn’t mean that badly.”
She stared at me and I would have handled a bullet wound better than this situation.
“I thought it meant you’d made a choice. That you weren’t going to be—”
“So I’m either too young or not owned. That about sum it up?” She cut me off.
“I just didn’t realize you were still in it. Still a pawn being moved around the board.”
The look she gave me. Fuck. I hadn’t meant to insult her. But clearly by her expression I had just made it ten times worse. This is exactly why I didn’t talk to people.
She straightened her shoulders. “Drop me off here.”
“Why?”
“Just stop the car.”
“No.”
“Stop the fucking car, Vincent.”
I exhaled through my nose and tapped the panel for the driver. “Pull over.”
We slowed near a tall building, golden-lit and ridiculous, one of those dynasty-run hotels that cost more for a pillow than some people made in a week.
I did a double take when I saw the Crow crest on the hotel. What the fuck. Since when did we own this place. We rolled to the curb. As soon as the car stopped. She reached for the handle, and opened it.
“Have a nice life, Crow.”
Then she stepped out and slammed the door behind her.
I didn’t move. I looked down at my hand. Still wearing the ring. Like it meant something.
I let my head fall back against the seat and closed my eyes. I’d fought a hundred men. Led thousands. Taken lives. But that—that moment in the car, had ripped through me with more damage than a bullet ever could.
The driver cleared his throat. “Sir?”
I opened my eyes. “Black Vault Casino.”
By the time I reached the casino my mind was elsewhere. The elevator ride to the top surveillance level was quiet. Too quiet. The kind that made your blood feel loud. Rome was pacing when I got there, one hand gripping a radio, the other holding a half-crushed cigar.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered.
“I was busy.”
He glanced at me once, face tight, but didn’t say anything. “West wing syndicate floor. Chip skimming operation. Looks like an inside breach.”
“How bad?”
“Twenty grand across four tables. A second crew trying to mask the payout by bouncing it through our lounge tabs.”
I barely heard him. My eyes were scanning the feed, but my brain wasn’t catching the images. She’d touched my hand. And then told me to have a nice life. It fucking bugged me more than I could admit.
“Vince.” Rome’s voice pulled me back. “You with me?”
“Yeah.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Send the recovery crew to the lounge. I want the floor manager pulled in. Check backroom footage, twenty-minute radius from the skim.”
Rome stared at me. “Alright. But whatever the hell happened tonight, you want to talk, I’ll be downstairs breaking bones.”
I nodded. He left. I turned back to the screens. I didn’t chase people. But I wanted to chase her.
And for the first time, I didn’t know what the hell to do next. The room was empty now. Just me, the screens, and the ring on my hand I couldn’t stop looking at.
I stared at it for another full minute. Then pulled out my phone and tapped Luca’s contact.
He answered on the second ring. “Yeah.”
“I need a track.”
“Name.”
“Madeline Thorne. I need to know if she’s still in the city.”
I heard the soft clack of his keyboard immediately.
“She left the event an hour ago,” he muttered. “Didn’t head to a private estate. Looks like she rerouted to a hotel.”
“Can you access the hotel system?”
“We own it. Give me thirty seconds.”
Luca never needed more than one question. That was the thing about my brother, he didn’t need context to protect me. He just moved.
“Found her. Suite level. Tower 3. Under her full name. Want the room number?”
“Yeah.”
“2114.” Luca didn’t ask what I planned to do. “I’ll send the override key to your private line.” He paused. “Do you want a hallway scrub too?”
“No. Just the door.”
“Done.”
The message buzzed in my other line a second later, access code, staff name for cover, and the digital key to get into her room without anyone knowing.
I smirked. “Thanks.”