5. Alina
5
Alina
“Put that on the table,” Damian instructs, nodding at the duffle bag. Markus tosses it on the table. Two thugs stand off to one side. Damian gestures toward one of them, who draws closer, unzips the bag, and spreads it open.
Damian cocks his head. “Markus?”
I glance at my brother to see that his face has turned ghostly white.
“Alina?” My name is a strangled sound at the back of his throat.
“What?” I reply tensely.
“Where’s the money?”
“What money?”
“Fuck,” Markus whispers. He staggers closer to the duffle, reaching inside to frantically start pulling out a few pairs of balled up socks. Searching. “It was in here. All of it.”
“What money?” I ask again, my voice strained. “Markus what the hell is going on here?”
He fishes out a navy T-shirt and stares at it like he’d never seen anything so utterly disappointing in his life. “Fifty thousand.”
I gape at him. “Fifty thousand dollars?”
He nods. “Part of what I owe.”
“Only part of it?” My stomach lurches, then I force myself to look at Damian. He looks back at me, his expression ruthlessly neutral. “How much does he owe you?”
Damian’s lips curve to the side. “I don’t discuss business with just any—”
“How much?” I ask again, louder, and more forcefully.
His dark brow rises. “Sit down, Alina.”
“I need to know—”
“Sit the fuck down,” he says again, words as sharp as gunshots. “Now.”
I’d sworn no one would ever boss me around or abuse me after what I’d endured from Enzo. I hadn’t mourned him. His disappearance had frightened the hell out of me, but the thought that he was likely dead didn’t bother me that much. I know admitting that makes me sound like a bad person, but so be it. It’s the truth.
He’d been a bully who used violence to make him feel like a man.
But any fear I’d felt for Enzo paled in comparison to the terror of what only a few words from Damian Russo does to me.
The dark paneled walls of the private gaming room feel like they’re closing in on me. I reluctantly sit down in the ivory upholstered chair next to the open duffle bag that seems to be filled with 100-percent my brother’s clothes and zero-percent cash.
“Explain,” Damian says to Markus.
Markus continues to stare bleakly at the navy T-shirt. “This woman I’ve been with lately…Heather. She took off the other night after a big fight. This has to be her fault. No one else knew about the duffle.”
“Alina did.” Damian’s voice is dangerously soft.
Markus’ head snaps up. “Alina wouldn’t have taken my money.”
I feel Damian’s gaze on me, searing and appraising. I force myself to meet it. I can’t let him know he scares the shit out of me. “I don’t steal.”
“Everyone steals when they have the opportunity.” His voice and expression are cold enough to send a shiver down my spine.
“I don’t,” I say again firmly. Then I look at Markus. “How much do you owe him?”
“Tonight? A hundred.”
I know he’s not talking about a hundred dollars.
“One hundred thousand,” I say it out loud, and he flinches before nodding. I feel sick.
“I’ve been on a winning streak. That’s how I got the fifty large. Tonight I was up for a while…” he begins.
“And then you weren’t.”
“And then I wasn’t,” he confirms grimly.
“How much in total if a hundred is just from tonight?”
It takes him several painful moments before he forces the word out. “Five.”
Five hundred thousand dollars.
“Markus!” I suck in a deep breath to try to compose myself. I don’t need to be an expert in stupidity to know owing half a million dollars to someone like Damian Russo isn’t good for your health. “Okay, there has to be some way to fix this.”
“There was.” Damian nods at the duffle. “That was supposed to be a down payment, but I’m afraid I can’t take dirty laundry as collateral.”
“I’ll find Heather,” Markus says, wringing his hands. “I can get you your money.”
A devilish glimmer now sparks within Damian’s dark eyes. He’s enjoying this, the bastard.
“I have a better idea. How about we play another hand…and make it double or nothing for everything you owe me?”
“No,” I say immediately, but it’s muffled by Markus’s enthusiastic “Yes!”
Like I said before, my brother is a gambling addict. And a certifiable dumbass.
Markus meets my pained gaze. “It’s okay, Sis. Really. I’ve got this.”
I ignore him and am now speaking directly to Damian. “Please don’t do this. He’s in deep enough as it is, and he clearly isn’t thinking straight. There has to be another way to fix this.”
Ignoring me as if I’m not even there, Damian sweeps the duffle off the table and dumps it on the floor as he takes a seat next to me. “Markus? Shall we?”
Desperation claws at me. “Markus,” I whisper. My brother doesn’t even glance my way.
The deck of cards is already in Damian’s grip, and he shuffles them in one large, tattooed hand with ease. His gold and diamond watch, the same one he was wearing the first night I saw him, glints under the chandelier above the table.
Markus takes his seat, and something’s changed in his demeanor. His eyes are shining, and a smile touches his lips. The prospect of winning the hand and canceling the entire debt he owes is exciting to him.
I can barely hear anything past the sound of my heart pounding in my chest.
Despite living in Vegas for months, I’ve never personally played a hand of poker, but I know the basics enough to realize that my brother has a bad poker face and far too much confidence given the shitty spot he’s in. I can tell he’s high too—or maybe drunk. Possibly both. Not a lot, just enough for it to cloud his already cloudy judgment.
Damian, on the other hand, seems stone cold sober and oozing confidence. The devil toying with a willing sacrifice just begging to be set on fire.
Cards are shuffled, dealt out. Markus looks at his briefly, then pushes three toward Damian. Damian deals three new cards to him, takes one for himself.
Time slows, every second feeling like a thousand.
A smile touches Markus lips as he turns his cards over.
Three tens. Not bad.
Damian barely looks at them before revealing three kings in his hand.
Better. Much better.
“I win,” he says simply.
Double or nothing. In the span of a couple of minutes, Markus now owes Damian one million fucking dollars. The thought of it makes my stomach lurch. Then I almost laugh. How is owing a demon a million dollars any worse than owing him half a million? Both numbers are completely out of reach for my brother.
“Just where do you think he’s going to get that kind of money?” I ask, and it’s impossible to hide the fury in my words.
Markus says nothing, only staring at the cards in disbelief.
Damian glances at me. “If you can’t pay, you shouldn’t play.”
So true. But Damian had to have known before this game even began that my brother couldn’t pay. In fact, how had Markus even managed to buy a seat at the table with Damian Russo? They aren’t in the same universe, never mind the same league. None of this makes any sense.
“How do we know you didn’t cheat?” I ask, desperate for a way out, any way out. The venomous look that Damian fixes on me turns my blood to ice.
“I don’t fucking cheat,” he growls.
“Everyone cheats when they have the opportunity,” I say, parroting a version of his earlier assertion back at him.
Markus makes a choked sound, but I don’t look away as Damian stares at me in silence, then says, “I don’t.”
The way he looks at me makes me shiver, though I’m not sure if it’s fear or…something else.
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” I say.
Damian gathers the cards with those long, strong fingers and sets the deck neatly to one side. “Your sister needs to show more respect, Markus.”
Fuck off , I think. And Damian meets my gaze directly, his eyes narrowed, as if he can read my mind.
“If you want respect, earn it,” I say.
Dark brows rise. Something flashes in his expression…amusement? Admiration? Annoyance? I can’t tell.
“I’ll get the money,” Markus blurts as he pushes up from the table, pulling Damian’s attention from me. “It’ll take me a little while, but I swear I can pay it. Come on, Alina. Let’s get out of here.”
The thugs step in front of the door as soon as Markus makes a move in that direction. He casts a fearful look over his shoulder.
Damian crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair.
“I’ll get it. All of it.” Markus just sounds desperate now. I don’t think even he believes what he’s saying.
“I know you will.” Damian smiles, not a nice smile. White teeth and menace. “How long do you need?” he asks, so reasonable.
I rise from my chair, my legs shaky. Damian’s sudden change in demeanor has me second-guessing my natural instincts now. Five minutes ago I would have bet that someone like him wouldn’t let anyone walk away from a debt that high.
Markus’s eyes rapidly shift as if he’s doing calculations in his head. “A few months.”
Damian chuckles darkly. “No. You have sixty days.”
Markus inhales sharply. “Sixty days?”
“That’s a generous offer, Markus. It’s not ideal, but I’m willing to give you the time you need. It’s a sizeable debt you owe me now.”
My gaze moves to the expensive watch he wears. I’m not the biggest expert when it comes to luxury items, but I know it’s easily worth a few hundred thousand. Damian doesn’t need the money. He just likes to watch people squirm. He gets off on it.
“Double or nothing?” Markus says, laughing nervously. Then he flicks a sheepish look at me. “I’m kidding, of course.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?” I reply. There’s this saying that when you are getting your way you should stop talking in case you mess it all up. Markus needs to stop fucking talking immediately.
“Sixty days to pay what you owe me in full,” Damian says again. “Give me your word.”
The word of an addict. Maybe Damian Russo isn’t as smart as I thought.
Markus exhales in a rush. “You have it. Thank you, Damian. Really. Thank you.” He turns to me. “Alina? Let’s go. You can yell at me outside.”
“Yelling is only the beginning of it,” I mutter.
I take a step toward my brother, but Damian takes hold of my wrist to stop me. I look down with surprise. His touch is warm, strong, strangely electric. It’s suddenly difficult to catch my breath.
“Alina will be staying with me,” Damian says, his attention on my frowning brother.
“What?” I gasp. “No, I won’t be doing anything of the sort.”
Markus swears under his breath. “That’s not necessary.”
Damian rises, standing close by my side, his fingers still looped around my wrist. “Isn’t it? You think I’m going to let you walk out of here just like that? Give you the chance to renege or disappear? Or try to, anyway. You owe me one million dollars, Markus.”
“I…I can give you something else as collateral.”
“What’s that? Keys to your rented apartment? Your fifteen-year-old pickup truck? A couple dime bags of blow?” Damian turns to me and says, “Here’s the way I usually do business. I extend credit at two points a week—”
“Points?” I ask.
“Percent,” Damian says. I nod, trying to mentally calculate two percent of a million dollars, compounded weekly. “If I get paid, I make money. If I don’t get paid, I seize assets and I make money. House. Car. Boat. Business. Jewelry. Doesn’t matter to me. My goal is met either way. In the end, I make money.” He gestures at my brother. “But Markus here has no assets. So he needs to provide collateral.”
I guess Damian isn’t willing to take the word of an addict after all.
He leans closer, his voice lowering. “I’m giving you a choice, Alina. You can walk out of here right now and I take my collateral from your brother in other ways.” He sends a meaningful glance toward the two thugs by the door. “Or you choose to stay and your brother walks out of here untouched…for the moment. He gets sixty days to pay his debt and earn his way back into my good graces.”
I swallow and whisper, “You want me to be a willing captive.”
His gaze rakes me. “How much does family mean to you?” The last words are barely above a whisper, spoken so close that I feel his breath against my ear.
I close my eyes, sick, desperate. If I walk out of here, Damian will do something terrible to my brother. If I stay, he might do something terrible to me.
I think of all the times Markus has screwed me over.
Then I think of all the times he hasn’t. I remember him buying me ice cream when we were kids and he only had enough money for one of us. I remember how he nursed me through the flu a week after we buried Mom and Dad. I remember Markus buying me pink ear protectors for my twelfth birthday because I was finally old enough to go to the Buffalo Rifle and Revolver Club with him and Dad.
I think about how his face lit up when I arrived on his doorstep here in Vegas. I sigh.
“Alina…” Markus says, and I don’t know if he’s begging me to stay or go. It doesn’t matter.
“I’ll stay,” I whisper, fear coiling through me.
Damian turns to my brother. “You’ve got sixty days, Markus. Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”
He nods at his thugs who roughly escort Markus out of the room before my brother has the chance to say anything else. I watch with growing despair as the door closes between us.
I think I’d gone into shock while they had their brief and useless negotiation. But I finally find my voice.
“Let go of me,” I snarl, yanking on my wrist.
Damian releases me. I realize his grip was never tight. There are no red marks on my skin. There will be no bruises tomorrow. He watches wryly, as if expecting me to make a break for it, but I stand my ground.
“I’ll make this as simple as possible for you, Alina. If you attempt to run from me before your brother’s debt is paid in full, then Markus will pay for your mistake with much more than money,” he tells me, his tone flat and matter of fact. “Do you understand me?”
I’d already guessed that outcome all by myself. “So I’m your prisoner now.”
“You’re my guest. For sixty days.”
“I have a life. Friends.” It’s mostly a lie, but he doesn’t have to know that. “I can’t just leave it all behind with no notice.”
“Yes, you can.” He pauses. “You walked out of the Emerald mid-shift without even letting your boss know. You don’t have a job there to go back to. Your furnished apartment is month to month, and the month renews in three days. Your landlady won’t miss you. As for friends, you occasionally grab a drink with a girl from work. I believe her name is Susan. You haven’t stayed in touch with people from high school and your closest friend from college is in the UK doing a Masters in Architecture.”
I gape at him. How can he know so much about me, a person whose name he didn’t even know an hour ago? I think about all the times in recent weeks that I felt like someone was watching me and I shiver.
“This is insane,” I say. “You’re insane. You can’t just control people like this. Force them to do what you want.”
“Can’t I?” He watches me, almost amused. Like a cat observing a mouse begging not to become tonight’s dinner.
“What happens if Markus can’t pay you what he owes on time?” I ask, hating the weakness I hear in my own damn voice.
Damian takes hold of my chin and forces me to meet his gaze. “If he can’t pay, I’ll take something else of value. I’ll get my money’s worth, one way or the other. Accept this, Alina. You have no choice in the matter. For the next sixty days, you belong to me.”