21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Dominic
“ M r. Tariello, there’s been a security breach at the entrance of your garage.” A Romano associate stands in the doorway of my father’s office. I pick up on his nerves only in the way his voice cracks. His concerned stare holds mine as the gravity of what he said sinks in.
“Fuck.” I’m up in an instant, digging my phone from my pocket. I have three missed calls from my valet and multiple from my security team. “What the hell happened?”
“I’m sorry, sir. All I know is that men in a blue sedan chased one of your cars to the garage.” His mouth is set in a grim line as I unlock my phone and call my valet.
One of my cars?
Who the hell was driving one of my cars?
“Mr. Tariello,” John, my valet, a man with many years of service to the Romanos, answers after the first ring. “Sir, there’s an issue I had to handle.”
I drag my fingers through my hair, demanding he continue.
“Miss Bain took her Audi for the first time this morning.” My brows rise. Cassandra finally gave in and accepted my gift. “She was gone for just under an hour before she came racing into the garage with someone pursuing her.”
With a sharp intake of breath, my blood runs cold. “Who the fuck was chasing her?” I ask, although I already know.
“I’m unfamiliar with the car, and it’s difficult to make out the men inside on the security footage. I have asked the tech team to send you the video. Perhaps you will recognize them.”
Thanking him, I end the call and raise a finger to my father, who raptly listened to my conversation. At the top of my emails, I open a message with a video file attached. The nondescript sedan gives little information, but as it reverses and turns from the closed gate, I catch a glimpse of the man in the passenger seat.
Alexsey Kozlova.
“Motherfucker!” Pacing in front of my father’s desk, I mutter, cursing the son of a bitch.
My father watches with raised brows, waiting for my tantrum to settle. “Dominic?”
I clench my hands into fists as my eyes close. “Alexsey went after Cassandra. He chased her back to my garage, but she made it inside just fast enough to escape.”
“Shit,” Marco hisses, eyes widening.
“Unacceptable.” My father’s palm slaps against the desktop, his ire growing. “Leo, get word to every Romano associate. Alexsey Kozlova is to be captured at first sight. A hefty bonus goes to whoever finds him.”
I’m not listening as my fingers scroll my contacts. Cassandra’s number quickly appears on my recent log, and I push call. My jaw clenches tight as I wait through four rings before it goes to voicemail. “Goddammit.” I try again with the same result. “I can’t get ahold of her. ”
“Dominic, I’m sure she’s safe in the hotel,” Leo says. His calm demeanor balances my panic. “Lorenzo is overseeing security. I’ll ask him to check on her.” Leo begins texting before he finishes his sentence.
“So, what now?” Marco perches on the seat of his chair, eyes gleaming with nervous excitement.
“We haven’t had a war since the eighties.” My father leans back, swiveling his chair to the side. “But it seems we have no choice.”
“The Kozlovas already started one.” I return to my seat, fuming.
Leo’s phone buzzes with a message. “Lorenzo says she’s in the penthouse.”
Slightly relieved, I mutter my approval.
“We need to get the Kozlovas alone, on our terms,” I muse aloud. “Somewhere out of the public eye.”
“They won’t meet us anywhere they feel is a threat,” my father says, his tongue clicking at the roof of his mouth as he considers our options. “I have a thought.”
I wave my hands for him to continue, eager to hear his proposal.
“Pharaoh’s Temple.”
I huff. The thought of willingly opening my developing property to the enemy is less than ideal, but it would give us an advantage. “We know the layout, they don’t.”
“Exactly.”
“Leo, get Alexsey Kozlova on the phone,” I demand, taking charge of the plan.
Leo quickly places the call, sets his phone to speaker, and puts it on the desktop .
“I was wondering when I would hear from the Romano family.” A voice with a thick Russian accent answers after the third ring. “Although I expected a call from the boss, not his adviser.”
“And you got one, Alexsey.” My tone is cold as ice, and my muscles are tense, ready to fight.
“Ah, Dominic.” He chuckles. My father’s eyes meet mine, his expression dark. Alexsey continues with amusement lacing his words. “Perhaps my message to your showgirl got to you? She’s beautiful. Such a lucky man you are.”
“She’s not part of this,” I snap, my palm slapping against the hardwood of my father’s desk.
Alexsey laughs. The idea of a bullet slicing through his brain becomes extraordinarily appealing. “Ah, but she is. See, my friend, you don’t listen.”
“I want to meet,” I say through gritted teeth, pulling him away from the subject of Cassandra. “I want to discuss terms. Maybe we can find a way to work with each other.”
Marco’s eyes flash to mine in question, and I raise a palm. I know what I’m doing.
“I always said you were sensible,” Alexsey answers. “I don’t want to cause trouble in your casinos, Tariello. But Las Vegas is good business. We will do our work here regardless of your wishes.”
“I have a new hotel,” I say. “It’s in the early stages of construction and empty at night.” My father nods his approval. “We can meet there. Tomorrow. Eleven p.m.”
Alexsey snorts and says something in Russian before addressing my proposal. “What assurance do I have that you will not ambush me and my men? It is your property.”
“There’s construction going on all day long,” I counter. “I’ll have no time to set up an ambush. Besides, I want to work out an agreement. How would an ambush benefit me? I doubt your uncle in Russia would look favorably on an attack. I don’t want a war.”
He blows out a breath, thoughtful for a long moment before answering. “I will bring my crew along.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“Then it is set. Tomorrow night. Eleven p.m.”
“Then it’s set.” My lips curl as I plan an offensive attack.
The phone call ends without farewells. Neither of us cares to give into pleasantries.
“All right, Dominic,” my father says. “What’s the plan.”
“Tomorrow night . . .” I grin. “Alexsey Kozlova dies.”
True to my word, I assemble a team of my closest men, my brother, Lorenzo, Dante, and my father—who I can’t talk out of reliving his glory days. Leo is set to take charge of the tech aspect, watching our meeting from a hidden corner and feeding information into earpieces as we go. My father and I alert our soldiers, telling them they must stay close to Il Palazzo and the new build tomorrow night and be ready to fight at our signal. I spend the day deep inside Il Palazzo’s underground recesses, reviewing our game plan and assembling weapons. We decide that Leo will visit Pharaoh’s Temple as construction wraps tomorrow and set extra artillery around the site. As my preparation for battle continues, my confidence grows.
Around three in the afternoon, I get word that the unconscious girl we found by the dumpsters is awake and talking. She’s weak and dealing with excruciating pain, but Dr. Giordano has yet to leave her side and quickly administers pain medication. He casts her arm but is adamant she needs a hospital to check her orbital bone and jaw for further fractures. I need her story first.
After Lucas successfully interrogates the girl at my father’s casino, I dispatch him to the suite on our twenty-fourth floor. I am pleased when he returns to the basement and provides valuable information.
“The girl was kept in a small house east of the city,” Lucas tells me. “She says there’s at least ten more, all underage.”
“Russian?” I ask, searching for a box of bullets in my armory.
“A mix. A couple of Americans, one from Mexico. She’s vague on the rest. The injuries and medication have her dazed.”
“Tell Giordano to get her whatever care she needs,” I dismiss him. “I’ll cover the bill.”
“Yes, sir.” Lucas nods, turning to rush back upstairs.
“Hey, Lucas.” I find the box I’m looking for and begin loading my rifle. “Good job.”
He grins wide before schooling his features and clearing his throat. “Thanks, boss.”
I chuckle as he runs off with a new sense of pride, holding his head high. He’s a good soldier. For once, Marco was right.
I’m notified about Cassandra’s departure from the penthouse to the theater right before dinner appears. Ravenous, I grab a slice of margarita pizza and set an alarm for ten thirty. I don’t know how late my battle preparation will run, and I need to see her before the night ends. When I checked in on her early in the afternoon, she was fast asleep, curled under the covers in the middle of my bed. With a gentle kiss, I let her be, placing a note on the nightstand, letting her know I’d be downstairs if she needed me.
“We’ll arrive at Pharaoh’s Temple first, to be safe,” I tell the men gathered around our makeshift dinner table. The wooden slab is meant for weapon prep. “I want us to take up a clear view of the front entrance, but we need to be able to find cover quickly if needed.”
“What if we wait near the check-in desks?” Marco asks, not bothering to swallow his fettuccine first. I scrunch my face in disgust and shake my head.
“They’re not close enough. The floor plan design has patrons walking through the casino as soon as they enter.”
“Some of the gaming tables arrived yesterday,” Leo says. “We can set them up behind you. They’re not ideal cover, but you can flip them and crouch behind in a pinch.”
My father grumbles his agreement as I sip on a large Americano. As my adrenaline wanes, my lack of sleep catches up with me. “I’m on board with that. Lorenzo and Dante, you’ll flank us. There are pillars to the right and left that you can use. Having every angle covered will give us an advantage."
“Do we know how many men Alexsey has with him?” Lorenzo asks.
“All our intel says he’s got a team of six with him.” Leo clicks the keyboard of his laptop and turns the monitor toward us, displaying surveillance photos of the men in Alexsey’s crew. “Most of them are known Bratva, but these two . . .” He scrolls and points to a picture taken on The Strip in front of The Oasis Hotel and Casino. “These two are new to us. They’re young and inexperienced. They are his weak links.”
“He’s going to have to leave a few men behind to watch over the girls he has in captivity,” I remind everyone. “We may outnumber them, but he’ll bring his best fighters. We can’t underestimate.”
I stifle a yawn and reach for my coffee.
“I’ll get a map of the stashed weapons to all of you tomorrow afternoon,” Leo says. “I’ll do my best to hide them in beneficial places.”
“Just don’t make them obvious,” I remind him. He gives me an “I’m not stupid” look that I’d probably smack off anyone else’s face.
My yawn breaks free.
“Dominic, go get some sleep,” my father chastises me. “You’ll be no good to us if you’re exhausted.”
“Yeah, Dom. I think we’ve covered everything.” Marco stands, lifting his empty plate. “We can finish the prep. It won’t take much longer.”
I acquiesce, picking up my coffee and lifting it toward the group. “Good night. I’ll see you all in the morning.”
A round of “Good night, Dominic” and one “Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite” from Marco follow me into the concrete corridor.
I chug the remainder of my Americano as I wait for the elevator then spend the ride to my security hub rubbing my exhausted eyes. A few men greet me as I exit the elevator bank, and I nod in return. My night shift team has clocked in, and I’m sure they’re all wondering if they’re stuck with my brooding ass tonight. Lucky for them, I’ve put in enough work today.
Tossing my cup in a trash can, I enter the casino. The ringing of slot machines and groans from a nearby roulette table set the soundtrack. Despite my fatigue, I’m jittery with anticipation combined with caffeine.
I’m at a point of delirium in which I know I need to settle down before I can sleep. As I check my watch, my feet lead me to a far corner where sets of double doors are just starting to close .
Calling out, I wave toward an usher, halting him. I slip inside the theater lobby and hand a fifty over, thanking the young man for waiting. He smiles and says, “Any time, sir.”
My regular table isn’t reserved for me tonight; instead, a high roller occupies it with his wife and teenage kids—a perk for spending too much at the poker tables.
A couple of seats are open in the back row, so I take one and settle in just as the lights dim.
The curtains rise after a few seconds of darkness, and a golden hue washes over the stage. Girls in sequined costumes and feathery angel wings saunter across. Despite the number of times I’ve watched her, my pulse accelerates when Cassandra enters with a glowing smile illuminating her face.
God, she’s gorgeous.
As numbers pass, I lose myself in the music and glamour. Cassandra hypnotizes me with her movements, awakening urges I’m too exhausted to act upon.
Soon enough, the singer croons his final notes, and the audience gives a standing ovation. I clap along with them as I discreetly sneak toward the exit, slipping out before the crowd spots me.
All I want is to find Cassandra and fall into bed. My nervous energy from earlier has subsided, and it’s become a struggle to keep my eyes open. I make my way into the back hallways of my hotel, ready to collect my woman and end the night.
The walk to the dancers’ dressing room is short, so I prop myself against a wall to wait while the girls change. Just as my head lulls to the side and my eyelids drop, the door swings open, bringing with it excited chatter and sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.
“Oh! Mr. Tariello!” A girl I recognize from when Cassandra and I were caught after our recent tryst grins and giggles, batting her fake lashes. “I didn’t expect to see you here. God, I must look like such a mess.” She smooths a hand against her bleached blonde ponytail, combing her fingers through the curls. I don’t have the energy for this.
Struggling to remain polite, I nod in greeting before my attention shifts to the beauty rolling her eyes over the girl’s shoulder.
“Enough, Whit. Go home.” Cassandra nudges her friend to get her moving, earning a scowl from “Whit.”
Unable to keep from touching her, I hold my arm out, encouraging Cassandra to squeeze into my side. Her cheeks tinge pink, but she accepts my invitation. As she curls into me, her hand grabs the fabric of my shirt and holds on tight.
“Where have you been?” she whispers, urging us away from the theater and out of earshot of the other dancers.
I shake my head as a pair of waiters pass by, their curious stares stuck on us. “Come on. We can talk upstairs.”
She doesn’t fight, following my quick steps through the halls and casino. With hands linked, we ignore groans from a blackjack table and skirt between slot machines. A weighted sigh slips from my lips when we’re finally in the confines of my private lobby.
Cassandra’s teeth tug at her bottom lip as her gaze falls. She opens her mouth as if to speak but shakes her head before muttering, “I’m sorry.”
“What?” I’m not following. My brain is too sleep-deprived to comprehend. “What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?”
“Last night,” she says, stepping into the elevator when the doors open. “I should have at least listened to you. Heard what you had to say.”
She leans against one mirrored wall while I take place against the other. I frown at the humility written in her expression while I search through the recesses of my memory, desperately seeking a conversation I’ve forgotten.
“Cassandra, you’re going to have to be more specific. My brain is kind of shot at the moment.” I rub my forehead as if to accentuate my state of mind.
Head cocked to the side, she steps forward. “The diner. I . . . maybe I should quit.”
And it all comes back.
Cassandra is unwilling to rely on me. Her still-packed bag sits in the closet, and she insists on keeping both her jobs while working herself to the bone. She doesn’t trust me to provide for her.
“Right.” I huff as my head tilts, hitting the mirror behind me. Defeat and weariness weigh upon me as my insecurity slips out. “I’m not enough for you.”
Her hair sweeps against her shoulders as she shakes her head, dismissing my claim. “God, that’s not it. Dominic, I never said that. I never thought that.”
“Then let me take care of you. Stop fighting this . . . us.”
Her voice drops so low I can barely hear her when she says, “Okay.”
The elevator doors open to my foyer, and despite my urge to force her to elaborate, I know this conversation is better suited for inside my penthouse. With a hand low on her back, I guide her, unlocking my door and ushering her inside.
More coherent but still exhausted, I detour into the kitchen and pull two cool water bottles from the refrigerator, handing one to Cassandra. She places it on the counter, her finger tracing circles around the cap while I chug half of mine in one go.
My thirst quenched and emotions swirling, I close my eyes, willing my words to align into complete sentences. “Cassandra, what the hell happened today? This morning at the diner? ”
Gaze fixed on the countertop, Cassandra’s shoulders drop as she blinks away the tears that threaten to fall. “The Russian man, the same one that approached me in the lobby weeks ago, was waiting when I arrived.”
“What did he say to you?” I step closer, my palms flat on the counter as I stand opposite her.
“He threatened me, saying the same things he did before. He wants you to stay out of his business.” Her eyes meet mine, and an ache builds in my chest at the fear residing in her expression. “He chased me, Dominic. I had to drive like a maniac back to Il Palazzo. I didn’t think I was going to make it.”
I’m around the counter, sweeping her into an embrace before the first teardrop trickles down her cheek. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe now.”
Clinging to the lapels of my jacket, she buries her face in my chest. Her quiet sobs have my jaw clenched and my inner demons hungry for Alexsey Kozlova’s blood.
“I don’t want to go back to Blanca’s, Dominic. Not alone.”
“Then don’t.” Trying to diffuse my fury, I rub circles against Cassandra’s back with shaking hands. Kozlova has hours left to live. He leaped over a boundary I will not ignore. “Stay here, stay with me. I can provide everything you need.”
“But eventually . . .” She pulls away, wiping at the remaining wetness underneath her eyes. “Well, I mean . . .”
“You mean what?” I prod, unable to understand her hesitation.
“I’m a showgirl, hardly the kind of woman a man as powerful as you will end up with. Eventually, you’ll have to move on. You’ll want to move on. What happens to me then?”
The vulnerability in Cassandra’s watery eyes as she watches my reaction guts me to the core. How could this wonderful creature believe I would ever leave her? I’m the lucky bastard who should thank God every day that he brought her into my life. If anyone, He knows I don’t deserve her.
I break. My chest rapidly rises and falls. Anxiety over the thought of losing this woman who has become the counterpart to my soul drives me to a near panic. “Cassandra, if there is one thing I can promise you, it is that I will remain by your side until the day you tell me we’re through. You enamor me. I’m stupidly in love. Never question my want or my need to protect and care for you. I’m yours. I’m begging you, tell me you’re mine as well.”
A hesitant smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she searches my face for any hint of insincerity. “You mean it, don’t you?”
“On my life,” I swear, because I would gladly die for her.
With hope, she begins to answer my plea. Her grin grows before she opens her mouth to speak—and the blaring of my cell interrupts the words I’m desperate to hear.
“Shit.” Pulling the phone from my pocket, I grimace at the caller ID: Marco. “I have to take this.” I apologize, turning and pacing toward the living room as I answer the call.
“Hey, bro.” Marco’s voice is apologetic yet tense. “We’ve got an issue. Kozlova called in reinforcements. Leo tracked at least a dozen Bratva soldiers flying into the city. They’re arriving tonight.”
With a muttered, “I’ll be right down,” I turn to Cassandra in apology.
“I get it. Go. I’ll stay here and wait for you,” she promises, lifting to her toes and kissing my cheek.
“You swear you won’t leave the penthouse?” I hold her cheeks, keeping her face inches from mine.
“Only for rehearsal and the show. Until you tell me otherwise.”
“One of my men will escort you to the theater. "
She nods, accepting my demand.
With a final kiss, I drop her from my hold and turn toward the door.
“Dominic,” she calls, running to catch me as I hold up my key card. “I can’t find my phone. You’ll have to call the penthouse to get ahold of me.”
I nod and step through the door.
It’s time to prepare for battle.