Chapter 18
REMY
“Good evening, Mr. Murray.” The Titan’s concierge is equal measures respect and awe. His expression doesn’t falter as it slides from Cash to me and back again, but I sense that he has committed me to memory for future reference. “Ma’am.”
“Ms. Jones is my guest this evening. We’ll be in my private booth in the casino.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cash guides me through the foyer with one hand on my lower back.
Protective and gentle. When he smiles at me, he’s still the man I pushed into the rooftop pool but with subtle differences.
Here, he is visible. Respected. He appears to stand taller even though it isn’t physically possible.
He fills his designer-labeled suit with uncontained energy but still manages to look at me with large pupils and a smile that makes my body tingle.
“Okay?” he asks, his voice only for me.
I nod, too excited to speak.
The Titan’s foyer is bottle-green walls with gold swirls, gold fronds, taller than me, in huge, burnished pots, and heavy chandeliers dripping opulent crystals. It’s 50s Hollywood glamor at its finest, and I half-expect to see Audrey Hepburn or Frank Sinatra walk through the doors at any moment.
The casino, when we enter, is already humming with activity. I’ve never been on this side of a table before, and I catch the unmistakable vibe of a long night ahead filled with the highs and lows of money changing hands on the spin of a wheel.
A woman who appears to be in her mid-twenties, wearing a floaty gold dress that changes color when it catches the light, comes over and kisses Cash on both cheeks, her lips lingering a little too close to his ear than is necessary for a warm greeting between acquaintances.
And is that her nipple I can see through her dress?
She catches me looking and winks conspiratorially, as though we’re in this together.
“Dana, this is Remy.” Cash’s expression is still neutral, his tone neither warm nor cold but just enough to keep Dana happy. “Remy,” he guides me forward with his hand on my lower back again, “Dana is a burlesque artist.”
I offer her my hand to shake and she ignores it, pulling me into a hug instead. “He makes it sound so boring. I take my clothes off for a living, artfully.”
“That’s… amazing.” I don’t know what else to say.
She laughs out loud. “You should come along to one of my performances. Both of you.” Is it me, or does her gaze suggest to Cash that she is being polite in my presence and she would prefer it if he came alone?
“We’d like that.” Cash’s smile is all for me.
I’m paranoid, and it isn’t an attractive quality.
“We would, thank you.”
I get the distinct impression that she sees right through me before she detaches herself and glides away again. I suck in a deep breath and release it with a sigh that gave me no warning.
Cash doesn’t miss it. He leans closer and whispers in my ear, “Stop panicking. You have nothing to be afraid of, Remy. You’re worth a million guests to me.”
Flames burst inside me, spreading their warmth and making me feel a little giddy. Maybe they teach eligible mafia bachelors the right thing to say at charm school, but it feels so right that I can’t fight it.
“I’ll let you in on a secret.” His words tickle my ear and send tingles down my spine. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever invited to the Titan.”
I peer up at him, and he doesn’t look away. All eyes must be on him, on us, and it feels as if we’re the only two people who exist.
We make our way to his private booth on the mezzanine level.
It would be easy to let it go to my head.
I watched Bash entertaining VIP guests from the casino floor when I worked at the Rinse and wondered how it would feel to be set apart from the rest of the world through connections in all the right places.
Now that I’m here, I’m like a teenager at her first concert about to set eyes on her celebrity crush.
Set apart, the luckiest girl in the world because I’m here with Cash.
I rest my arms on the gold balustrade and watch the tables below, the chips sliding across green baize, the men in suits knocking back whiskey, the women in diamonds and pearls flexing their polished acrylics.
A bottle of champagne appears in a silver bucket on the table as if by magic.
I know that’s how it works: keep the guests drinking, keep them spending money.
But I never understood how easy it is to get swept up in the excitement until Cash half-fills a champagne flute, hands it to me, and clinks his glass against mine.
“Half a glass,” he murmurs. “To calm your nerves. That’s all.”
I sip bubbles and my eyes water as they go down. I don’t ask if he’ll finish the bottle himself or if he intends to share it with another guest. I’m determined to enjoy the moment before I take a selfie to send to Ariel.
Cash’s cheek is close to mine as he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts it towards the blackjack tables on the opposite side of the casino floor.
“The gent in the black suit and gold waistcoat.”
My gaze settles on the man with silver hair and matching moustache. He’s smart, his spine straight, his chest wide from years of eating good food. He is how I imagine Santa Claus to look if he took early retirement.
“He looks… kind.” I smile.
“He’s a Sicilian don. Ruthless, but he’s allied to the Murrays.”
I turn sharply to face Cash. “I thought mafia dons only existed in the movies.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. “They’re real.”
“And you’re friends with him?”
“He saved Victoria and Sienna from his own daughter.” He keeps his voice low; this conversation is for my ears only. “Despite what the movies tell you, people like Don Dragonetti don’t go around shooting innocent people. Their hearts beat the same way as yours and mine.”
I’m paying attention, I am, but it’s difficult when Cash’s lips are so close to mine, and all I can think about is kissing him.
“You like him.” It isn’t a question, it’s an observation.
“I have a lot of respect for him.”
I lick my lips, remind myself that kissing him here would not be good. For either of us. It would be like distracting the chef while the soup starter burns in the pan.
“Are all your guests mafia connected?”
He swallows a mouthful of champagne. “Not all.”
“Do you always drink champagne while you work?”
“This is a first for me too, Remy.”
His lips graze my ear, and I return my attention to the tables below, grateful that no one can see my nipples hardening through my dress at this angle.
Two tall broad-shouldered men wearing dark suits enter the casino and survey the scene as though they’re looking for someone who wronged them in a previous life.
I can almost see their fingers twitching towards the guns in their pockets.
I reflexively sit back from the balustrade, doing what I always do: trying to remain invisible.
“Are they mafia?” I whisper.
Cash covers my hand with his. “I can understand why you would think that, but they’re NYPD.”
“They’re cops?” I blurt out. “Why are they here?”
“Just keeping a friendly eye on the proceedings.” He is completely unfazed.
“But you… This is a casino…”
Now that I’ve started, I realize where I was going with this. Casinos are notoriously rigged in the owner’s favor. I don’t know much about it, but every instinct is screaming at me that this must be illegal.
“Yes, and it’s good to have the law on my side.”
I don’t ask him to elaborate. There’s so much I don’t know about Cash’s business, stuff that I’ll perhaps learn in time, but not tonight. Tonight is about seeing him in his natural environment, a safari around the Titan to find out how he lives.
“You see the young guy on the last roulette table?”
I check out the man in an expensively casual jersey sweater and black pants. His hair is so black it looks painted on. His expression is solemn even from a distance.
“He must be mafia,” I whisper, conscious of other people on the mezzanine level.
“Correct. Russian family. The guy sitting next to him is his boyfriend.”
Blonde, wide smile, flamboyant in a purple floral shirt, open at the collar. I don’t know how I missed him.
“Looks can be deceiving,” Cash says. “He has helped us in the past, but I wouldn’t trust him to tell me the time.”
I’ve got a lot to learn.
I must say this out loud because Cash murmurs, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Remy. You make people smile.”
“I do?” I face him, and our lips brush, sending sparks to every nerve ending in my body.
“People gravitate towards you because you have a good heart.” He places his palm over my left breast, and his pupils dilate when he feels my hard nipple. He leans closer and whispers in my ear, “I want to rip off this dress and fuck you till you beg me to stop.”
My pussy instantly responds by saturating my panties. “Right here?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t care for audiences. I’m selfish like that.”
I smile. “Later?”
“Deal.”
His phone vibrates, killing the moment before it escalates out of control, and he slides it out of his pocket. “Terry, are you on site?” He doesn’t look at me, but his thigh is still pressed up against me, a reminder that this evening is all about me. “I’m with Remy.”
I can’t make up my mind if this is a warning for Terry to be discreet and leave us alone, or if it’s a code for increasing security.
I don’t fully understand why my brain instinctively makes this connection.
But now that it’s out there, I glance around the casino floor and notice the bodyguards in strategic positions around the building.
I shiver despite the heat.