Chapter 2
Chapter Two
ONE MONTH LATER
“Did you know?” My head snaps up at the intrusive figure of my best friend currently walking into my office. Uninvited.
“Know that you’re an ass? Yes,” I say, returning my focus to the computer screen.
“The world knows that. Did you know she was back?” He sits on the corner of my desk.
“Get the fuck off my desk before I throw you off it. And who is she?” I play dumb. I know exactly who he’s referring to. Jasmine Bianchi. My childhood best friend, the only girl I’ve ever loved and whose heart I broke.
Of course, I know she’s back in Vegas. I always know when she’s back.
Do I spend my free time following her around?
Hiding in the shadows just to get a peek at her?
Maybe. Have I hacked into her father’s casino CCTV just to watch her?
Maybe. But will I ever admit that to anyone? Absolutely fucking not.
“Okay, sure, let’s pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about. Jasmine Bianchi. Name ring a bell? If you don’t remember her, you won’t mind me taking my shot.”
My gaze fixates on my soon-to-be-dead best friend. “Bradley, stay the fuck away from her,” I growl.
“Ah, so you did know she was back.” The asshole smirks.
Bradley Levine has been my friend just as long as Jazzy was. We all used to hang out together. Bradley is from old money, though, a trust-fund kid who doesn’t need to fucking work a day in his life. Which is why he’s currently sitting around here.
“Get the fuck out of my office, Brad, and stop wasting my time. Some of us actually have to work.” I lean back in my seat and run a hand through my hair. My icy glare directed his way.
Bradley laughs. “Fuck off. Your trust is bigger than mine, asshole. You work because you like it and have some sick control fetish. You get off on it.”
He’s wrong. I don’t have a control fetish. I make sure I’m always in control because the one time I wasn’t, I ruined everything. Ever since then, I’ve made it a point to control every situation. That, and the fact my father is constantly down my fucking throat about not fucking up the family name.
Heaven forbid a scandal rocks the pristine image of the Westmead legacy. Old money, like Bradley’s money, mine too, comes from generational wealth. Unlike Bradley, I’m the oldest grandson. Which means the family businesses fall onto my shoulders, whether I want them or not.
When I don’t respond, Brad huffs, clearly getting bored. “Fine, I’ll leave you to it. I wanted to swing by Aces today anyway.”
“Stay the fuck away from her, Bradley. I mean it,” I grunt.
Brad laughs as he walks towards the door. He’s kept in touch with Jazzy over the years, and he loves to tell me about it every time they talk. He also loves to let me know that she’s never once asked about me.
Not that I thought she would. After what I did to her, I’m surprised I’m still breathing.
That she didn’t have her father or one of her uncles kill me.
I wouldn’t blame her if she did. Jasmine Bianchi is a mob princess.
She hated it whenever I called her that.
But it’s the truth. Her father is one of the three men who run the criminal underground here in Vegas, while one of her other “uncles” is the head of the fucking Mexican cartel.
I also know she never wanted to end up being with someone capable of murder.
As much as she loves her family, and she does, she confided that she worried about the people she loved being sent to prison or ending up dead.
She said she didn’t know how her stepmother or aunts handled the stress and that she’d never marry someone from their world because of all the anxiety that came with it.
And that is the reason I did what I did.
The reason I left town and got as far away from her as I could.
Because if I didn’t follow what my father wanted me to do, she would have found out my biggest secret, and she’d never be able to look at me the same way.
Not that she’s looked at me since that day.
I have no doubt that if I did step out of the shadows and let her see me, she would look at me with nothing but hate and regret. And that’s a look I never want to fucking see.
Before Bradley leaves, he glances at me over a shoulder. “You do know she’s back for good, right? She’s been here for a month already and she plans on taking over Aces for her dad,” he says.
My brows furrow. Jazzy only popped up on my radar about two weeks ago.
And by radar, I mean the program I have that scans every camera in the city and alerts me when her face is recognized.
I know it sounds stalkerish, but in order to avoid running into her, I need to know where she is at all times.
It’s a method that’s worked well for me.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Ah, something you didn’t know.” Brad smiles. “Don’t worry… When I do catch up with her, I’ll be sure to find out why she’s been in hiding.”
“Why are you even catching up with her?” I grumble.
“Just because you fucked up your friendship with the princess doesn’t mean I have to,” he says. “Besides, if she’s back, I’m betting she’s single again. Maybe now’s my time to shine.”
I know Brad has no intention of trying to hook up with Jazzy. He says this shit to get a rise out of me. And it works every fucking time. Right now, though, my mind is still reeling over the fact she’s been back for an entire month.
I need to know why she’s here. She seemed happy in New York, had a great job, a good bunch of friends and she was dating. Not something I was happy about but accepted because I want her to be happy. Even if I never will be.
Without another word, Bradley walks out, my door closing behind him. I shut my eyes and count to ten. I should have known she was back. Why the fuck didn’t I know?
Control. Whenever Jasmine is involved, all sense of control seems to escape me.
Apart from the self-control it takes for me to stay away from her.
That, I can’t lose. I would love to know why she’s been hiding, though.
Because there is no other reason for her to be here without me knowing, unless she was hiding out at her parents’ house.
There’s been no talk of her prior to two weeks ago when my program pinged her at Aces. And this city loves to talk. Someone would have seen her, and the gossip mill would have been working overtime.
Jasmine is noticeable. And being that she is the eldest Bianchi offspring, she’s always been a hot topic of conversation. It’s also very unlike her to hide.
Standing up, I walk over to my drawer and retrieve two devices.
There’s one place Jazzy talks openly. It’s also the only place I’ve never planted a camera or listening device.
I figured that was crossing a line. It looks as though that line’s being obliterated now, because I need to know why she’s been hiding.
My gut is telling me something happened in New York. And whatever it was, it was bad enough to have her moving back home. The Strip isn’t at war. It’s not a family thing, because whenever the underground is getting heat, the entire city knows about it. The last few months have been quiet.
When I arrive at the cemetery, I look around, making sure no one else is here. This is fucked up. I know that. But it’s not like she can hate me any more than she already does.
Walking up to her mother’s tombstone, I pull out the listening device and hide it under a small angel statue. I look around again, trying to find somewhere to plant a camera. There isn’t anywhere that it wouldn’t be noticeable.
Leaving the camera in my pocket, I head back to my car. “Sorry, Jazzy, but I can’t let you have secrets from me.”
I remember when we were ten and we made a pinkie promise to never keep secrets from each other. I wonder, if she ever found out I’ve been spying on her, would I be able to use that promise as an excuse?