Chapter 1 #2
“Well then I accomplished his mission, didn’t I?
” Ava’s voice came out tight, edged with defensiveness.
She didn’t want to admit they were right—that she was stalling, that the thought of surrendering control made her stomach twist. But they could see it.
She felt their knowing eyes on her, and she hated it.
Franco’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror again, the teasing gleam still there, but layered now with something sharper—too perceptive. “Sure, you ‘accomplished’ it. But I think the teacher’s point was that you couldn’t just ignore the assignment because it was boring, Ava.”
Leone’s calm voice slid in like a blade. “You don’t like being told what to do. Even when you know it’s in your best interest.”
Ava jerked her eyes to the window, watching the neon lights smear into streaks of color as they sped down the Strip.
Her fingers dug into the strap of her purse, holding on as though it might anchor her against the panic building in her chest. Her pulse hammered and she felt sweat breaking out on her back.
But she couldn’t let them see her fear—not Franco, not Leone.
And certainly not the man waiting at the end of this drive.
At this time of the morning, there was little traffic.
The streets were calm and almost eerily quiet, save for the occasional early-morning jogger or the distant hum of construction.
Later in the day, though, the scene would shift drastically.
The streets would fill with limousines, party buses, tourists snapping photos, and pedestrians rushing from one glitzy casino or trendy bar to the next.
But right now, it felt like a fleeting moment of peace in a city that never truly slept.
The three of them bickered back and forth, filling the silence with playful jabs about Ava’s stubbornness, recalling memories from childhood. It was familiar, comforting, even though the tension hung thick in the air like the heat of a coming storm.
When they parked in the employee garage for La Stella, one of the biggest, most expensive, and most photographed casinos on the Las Vegas Strip, Ava went silent.
She couldn’t bring herself to speak—couldn’t even summon the energy to return their teasing.
Franco and Leone fell silent too, but not because they were nervous.
Hell, they worked in that casino every day, either as pit bosses or filling in wherever they were needed.
They all had worked various jobs at La Stella since they were fifteen.
It was a part of their life they understood well.
They knew the chaos, the long hours, the constant hum of neon lights, and the clatter of chips.
But for Ava, La Stella had never been the end game.
She had different dreams—dreams that had brought her to the point where her fashion design company was growing and expanding into new regions, with new clients that bought her brand for their stores.
Her best friends teased her about her stubbornness, but deep down, they understood it and her.
They understood that her refusal to take the easy path was the reason her design company had even become a success in the first place.
Ava hadn’t just built a business—she’d created it from nothing, step by painful step.
Every failure had only made her more determined to rise again.
She’d never wanted to work for someone else.
That had been her mantra for years: Never give in. Never settle. Never let anyone else dictate her future.
And now, after ten years of sacrificing everything—sleep, friends, time, even love—her precious company was in danger.
The dream she had poured her blood, sweat, and tears into was on the verge of slipping through her fingers, all because of some damn Yakuza gang leader trying to muscle in on her business.
He wanted “protection money”—a phrase she couldn’t stomach.
She had made it this far on her own terms. She had built her empire, and no one was going to tear it down because of some thug trying to fund his lavish lifestyle at her expense.
But even as she steeled herself against the threat, she couldn’t ignore the weight of it. The fear gnawed at the edges of her resolve, and she felt the walls closing in, tightening around her chest. Her stubbornness had gotten her here—but could it save her now?
As they walked into the casino, Ava’s steps slowed.
“He won’t have time to speak with me,” Ava muttered uncertainly as she unconsciously slowed, the enormity of what she was about to do overwhelming her.
She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt it—the tremor in her hands, the flutter in her stomach.
Every part of her screamed for her to walk away, to handle the problem another way, even though she knew there was no other way.
But Franco and Leone had anticipated this. With practiced ease, they each placed a hand on her back, nudging her forward, as if they knew exactly what it would take to push her past the fear.
“I called ahead. He’s waiting for you,” Leone assured her gently, which only made her anxiety churn in her gut. She didn’t need their comfort. She needed control.
Franco pressed the button for the elevator, and it opened immediately, the quiet ding of the door echoing in her ears like a death knell.
He turned to face her, his body shifting slightly to block the surveillance cameras.
“You know what you want, Ava,” he said quietly.
“Don’t let your pride get in the way. He can help you. You know he can.”
His words were meant to comfort her, but they only deepened the pit of unease in her stomach. She knew he could help—he was the only one who could. But that meant giving up control, and that terrified Ava.
Before she could respond, the doors opened.
As she made a move to step out, Leone grabbed her arm, gentle but firm, pulling her back.
His voice was low, a whisper only for her.
“He’s harsh, Ava. But you know he’s a good man.
” His breath tickled her ear as he leaned in closer. “You know what you want. Go get it.”
The words were simple, but they held weight.
Ava knew Franco and Leone were trying to guide her through this, to help her face the fear she was fighting so desperately to hide.
But the fear wasn’t just about the man. It was about losing herself in him, in what he could offer, in what she might have to surrender.
With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, attempting to shake off the anxiety that had settled like a stone in her chest. She had no other choice. She had to do this.
Leone and Franco led her out of the elevator, their presence solid and steady, like a shield.
Las Vegas was loud, brash, and unrelenting—the city lights flickered and shifted, restaurants adjusted their menus to draw in new crowds, casinos pumped in oxygen to keep gamblers from feeling the weight of exhaustion, and waitresses weaved between tables, serving alcohol to lower inhibitions.
Everywhere she looked, people moved, laughed, yelled, and chattered. The pulse of the city was endless.
But here, on the executive floor of La Stella, there was an unexpected, almost eerie silence.
The thick carpeting softened the echo of their footsteps as they walked.
The quiet conversations in offices were muffled, the voices barely rising above whispers.
Employees worked diligently at their computers, typing softly, almost reverently.
It was an oasis of calm in the middle of the chaos.
Leone and Franco walked with purpose, guiding Ava down the long hallway toward the double doors. She tried to ignore the tightness in her chest, but each step felt heavier than the last.
A well-dressed man sat behind a desk outside the doors—Jordan Kinsley. He looked up as they approached, his expression remaining unchanged, as calm and controlled as the silence around them.
“He’s waiting for you, Ms. Santos,” Jordan said, his voice cool and polite, though something flickered in his eyes—a warning, maybe even pity. He tilted his head toward the double doors. “Go right in.”
The words landed like a verdict. The moment stretched out before her, taut and suffocating. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to bolt down the hallway and never look back. Anything to avoid stepping into that room.
This was it.
And yet… she didn’t move. Her heels rooted to the carpet as though the floor itself had turned to wet cement.
Ava clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms until the sting gave her something solid to hold onto. Fury, frustration, and a rising tide of panic coursed through her veins. How had it come to this?
She had spent her entire life clawing for control.
Growing up, she’d been dragged through her mother’s chaos—watching her ping wildly from one “grand idea” to the next, from boyfriend to boyfriend, leaving Ava scrambling in the wake of the storm.
No stability. No safety. Just the endless, exhausting unpredictability of someone who never thought ahead, who never cared what it cost her child.
So Ava had built herself into the opposite. She’d forged her company with the precision of a jeweler cutting stone—every decision measured, every risk weighed, every detail under her thumb. Her business wasn’t just her livelihood. It was proof she could make order out of the mess she’d been given.
And now, someone was threatening to take that away.
Piece by piece, sabotage after sabotage, her careful control was slipping.
And waiting behind those double doors was the man who could strip it away completely—because he didn’t just make her feel powerless in business.
He made her feel powerless inside her own skin.
Her chest tightened. Her breathing came too fast. She hated it—the very thought of owing him anything, needing him for anything. The injustice of it clawed at her, suffocating.
She still didn’t move. She stood there, body tense, shoulders drawn tight, practically vibrating with the effort it took to hold herself together.
Her gaze locked on the double doors as though, if she just glared hard enough, maybe—just maybe—she could burn a hole straight through them, reduce the man on the other side to ash.
But the cruelest truth sat heavy in her chest. She didn’t really want to destroy him. No, what she wanted was worse. She wanted not to feel anything for him. She wanted to silence this messy, maddening storm inside her—the fear, the pull, the furious attraction she had no business indulging in.
Her heart thudded faster with every second she hesitated, betraying her resolve.
Unfortunately, reality didn’t care what she wanted.
“Be stubborn,” Franco whispered, his voice low, as if sensing the crack in her armor.
Leone nudged her forward, an unspoken command. She could feel his steady presence beside her, pushing her toward what she couldn’t face but knew she had no choice but to confront.
Ava paused long enough to throw a venomous glare at her best friends—her anchors—but even their teasing couldn’t distract her from the weight of the decision she was about to make. The tightness in her chest wouldn’t ease. Her legs felt like lead, but there was no turning back.
She straightened her shoulders, forcing the defiance to swell inside her like a balloon ready to burst. With an abrupt movement, she shoved through the double doors, the sharp click of the latch echoing like a starting gun.
And as the doors swung wide, she stepped into the unknown, ready to face whatever he would throw at her.