Chapter 35
CADE
Atrum Fortuna
Hidden beneath The Obsidian, The Atrum Fortuna—Roman Russo’s elite casino—comes to life. And thanks to Ellie and Haley, it’s a beautiful sight.
Golden light spills across the room, catching on crystal, diamonds, and even the cold obsidian bar beneath my hand.
Cards slap across red and black velvet. Chips clink in a steady rhythm.
A roulette wheel spins somewhere behind me, the quiet whir threading through the low whispers of conversation and the delicate chime of champagne flutes.
Roman gave Mom and the girls full reign of the space and they completely transformed it. Between Ellie’s ever growing guest list, Haley’s floral arrangements, Mom’s table settings, and Callie creating a custom drink menu, every last detail has been obsessively curated.
I’m honestly surprised they pulled it off. Then again, these girls never do anything halfway. They have worked an insane amount of hours over the past few days getting this place to, and I quote, “Look less like the entrance to Hell and more like a sexier, Upper-East Side version of Casino Royale.”
Ellie’s words, not mine.
The harsh red glow of neon has been replaced with the warmth of gold and elegance. My sister was not a fan of the Hollow-Kings-red and made that very clear from the beginning. I lost count of how many red bulbs Lex and I swapped out for gold ones.
“Perimeter is secured,” Nate’s firm voice comes through the comms. He’s stationed at the front entrance with one of Roman’s men. “The last name on the guest list just checked in.”
“Now we wait,” Laing says. He’s leaning over a blackjack table across the room, his black hair sculpted into an artful mess.
Callie is standing behind him in a golden gown that shimmers like wet paint under the glittering chandelier.
Her auburn hair spills over Laing’s shoulder in rich, mahogany waves as she leans down to whisper something in his ear.
Manicured fingers grazing the dragon ink peeking out from his unbuttoned shirt.
Mom and Sabine are seated at the far end of the bar with glasses in hand.
A beautiful, high-contrast elegance with my father seated between them.
Mom is all cool luster and pearls, while Sabine glows in her signature crimson and burnished gold.
Two polar opposites making Dad look like a million bucks.
Khoza and O’Malley are at one of the High Roller tables with Rez and some of the high-ranking members of the Barinov Bratva. Daniel included. They’re unmoving shadows, watching the room with a predatory stillness.
Across the floor, my dumbass brother and his even dumber of an asshole best friend, August, are surrounded by a jarring splash of neon.
Two blondes in tight magenta dresses are draped over Cal’s arms like vivid, satin brushstrokes.
Marisol has August eating out of the palm of her hand in a slick, black silk that drinks in the light.
We told Cal this wasn’t a plus-one event, but he’s clearly too blinded by the breasts, curves, and pink to give a crap about the mission. I guess if anything Marisol and the blondes will keep them out of the way.
I’m leaning back against the bar, taking a sip of my Manhattan when I catch a glimpse of him. Lex, looking unbelievably sexy in a tux tailored for a war he’s already won. Black on black with sharp lethal lines. The fabric a matte void against his broad shoulders.
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper, nearly choking on my drink at the damn visual weight of him.
Lex catches my stare, a smirk forming before he even reaches me.
“Take a picture, babe,” he says, his voice a low, cocky drawl. “It’ll last longer.”
I set my glass down with a heavy clink before the condensation makes it slip through my fingers. Reaching out, I catch the stiff, expensive wool of his lapels and haul him toward me.
“You,” I whisper, my teeth catching my bottom lip as I map the shadows and angles of his jaw. “Look amazing.”
Lex doesn’t give me time to admire the view. He leans in, mouth crashing into mine until there is nothing left but the heat of him and the smell of expensive bourbon.
He pulls back, breathless. “You ready for this?”
“I guess,” I admit. “I just hope he shows.”
“He will,” he says, reaching behind me to grab my drink.
Ellie and Haley glide in, flanking Briggs like twin highlights against his dark suit and black Stetson. Haley is a shimmering beauty in teal, her dress glittering with every step. Complete with a slit so dangerously high it turns the head of every man in this casino.
My man’s included.
“Fuck, Hales,” Lex coughs, his gaze fixed on her thigh. “Knox has gotta be losing his shit in that booth.”
“Oh I am,” Knox’s voice rings in over the comms.
A small huff of a laugh escapes my lips as I shake my head. My eyes shift to my sister in a basic white strapless. A dress that serves nothing more than a negative space to frame what’s around her neck.
Izzy’s grandmother’s massive heart-cut ruby necklace. A drop of blood-red so saturated it almost glows against Ellie’s pale skin.
“I hate this,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “Ellie being the bait.”
Lex wraps his strong arms around me from behind, the scent of leather and spice washing over me.
“She’s with Briggs, babe,” he says, pressing a kiss to my neck. “The guy’s a walking armory. He’ll keep her safe.”
“Don’t worry, Cade,” Tex’s deep voice vibrates in my ear. “We’ve got eyes on her.”
He’s perched up in the rafters over the stage. Kenji’s up in the back corner near Knox’s DJ booth. The two of them covering all exits and angles.
“Good evening, everyone,” Knox’s smooth voice rolls through the overhead speakers. “Thank you for joining us tonight.”
Lex’s fingers lace with mine in a firm grip. He tugs me toward one of the tables closest to the stage. We take our seats just as the last of the chatter fades. The energy in the room tightening into something more focused.
“It gives me great honor to introduce to you our host for the evening,” Knox continues, his tone easy and practiced. “The man behind Atrum Fortuna… Mr. Roman Russo.”
Applause breaks out. It’s measured at first, but then builds as Roman steps into the light on the stage. He lifts a hand, the crowd quieting without him asking to.
“Thank you for being here,” Roman begins, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room, though I can see the slight tension in his neck from here.
“Tonight is a very important night for me. The Izzy Foundation was built in honor of someone I lost. Someone who deserved more time, more understanding, more…” Roman cuts himself off, his mouth twitching for a heartbeat.
He swallows hard, hand drifting to his chest to rub at the phantom ache that still haunts him.
“More patience than the world gave her,” he finishes, his voice lower now. “Tonight, we’re not just raising money. We’re building something that ensures others struggling with their mental health don’t fall through the same cracks that my Izzy did.”
A few quick claps break out.
He takes a breath, a shuddering intake of air that ripples through his frame before pulling himself back together.
“Over the past few months, I’ve had the opportunity to get to know some of the people closest to my daughter, Isabella.”
Lex’s hand finds mine under the table.
“Now they didn’t know it at the time,” Roman says, gripping the edge of the obsidian podium, “but I was doing a little bit of my own research.”
“Research?” I whisper to Lex.
He shrugs.
“Getting to know who they are at their core.” Roman’s gaze sweeps over the room. “What they want in life. What really matters to them. And I found some very interesting things and met some incredible people along the way.”
Roman’s eyes land on our table. “I’m grateful,” he says, softer now, his steel eyes a little wet. “Truly. That my daughter has each and every one of you in her life.”
Lex exhales quietly beside me.
“So when we had this idea to create the Izzy Foundation,” Roman continues, his voice regaining its edge. “I decided to expand it. To build something greater. And more importantly, to recognize someone who embodies what this foundation stands for at its core.”
He pauses for a second.
“Haley Rosethorne, would you come up here please?”
Haley rises slowly from her table. She moves through the crowd with a quiet, almost hesitant grace, the shimmer of teal sparkling as she passes between dark silhouettes and low-lit tables.
O’Malley’s already on his feet by the time she reaches the stairs. He offers her his hand without a word and guides her up before slipping back into the shadows like he was never there.
Haley steps onto the stage. Her hands fidget lightly with the fabric of her dress as she comes to a stop beside Roman, shoulders pulling in ever so slightly.
“Most of you might know Miss Rosethorne as a dancing heartthrob.”
“Woo!” August shouts from his table.
A few people laugh. Haley lets out a soft chuckle on stage, rolling her eyes.
Roman’s lips twitch faintly before he continues.
“But I’ve learned she is so much more than that.
” His voice steadies, dropping even deeper than before.
“As a child psychology major at Wexley University, Haley has already been part of some of the most impactful research initiatives the school has seen in years.”
He glances toward her. “Isn’t that right, Haley?”
She gives a small smile, nodding.
“Your dedication to the growing mental health crisis among our youth is something I personally cannot thank you enough for,” he says to her. “The work you’re doing will change lives. Many, many lives. And I wanted to do something that’ll help your work continue.”
The room has gone quiet now.
“I’ve created the Isabella Moretti Scholarship, valued at twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“Holy shit,” Lex whispers.
“And I would like you to be the first recipient.”
Haley gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as the weight of it lands. Tears spill before she can stop them.
Roman steps forward, offering her an obsidian plaque. She takes it with shaky hands and closes the distance between them, pulling him into a quick and emotional hug.
“Thank you,” she whispers, too soft for most of the room to hear.
Roman nods once, steadying her before stepping back.
“Haley Rosethorne, everyone.” Roman triggers the applause, a sweeping wave that pulls the entire room to its feet in a standing ovation.
“That’s my girl!” Knox booms over the speakers as she makes her way back to her seat next to Ellie.
“Alright,” Roman begins again, his voice dropping into a richer, more resonant register.
“Before you all get back to poker and blackjack, we have one very important item that will be up for auction later tonight.” He runs his hands down the front of his tux once before striding to the front of the stage, motioning to my sister.
Ellie stands on cue, moving between the tables giving every man and woman in here a 360-degree view. Every head turns to follow the light bouncing off her neck.
“As you can see, Miss Whitmore was kind enough to sport the item for us,” Roman continues, gesturing toward the concentrated fire at my sister’s throat.
“It belonged to the grandmother of my Isabella Moretti, for whom this foundation was named. It is a ten-carat, pigeon-blood ruby on a twenty-four-karat gold chain.”
Gasps and oohs erupt from around the room.
“We will start the bidding at one point five million dollars. So get a good look everyone, we’ll begin in under an hour.”