Oh hell. I’m going to do it. I’m going to ignore the warning voice in my head that tells me not to get involved in this family dispute, and I’m going to dive in, because they’re in need, and I’m the idiot that doesn’t know how to back away before I get myself in trouble.
“I won’t be here for six weeks. I have a life back in the city. As soon as they find a replacement for Anna, I’m out of here.”
Hope floods Carter’s eyes. “I understand,” he says. “Even if you can only watch him for two weeks, it’s still better than nothing.” He turns to Dominic. “Gabriella’s here to be Nicky Z’s publicist. Yes, she’s staying at the Grand River, but nobody will have any reason to connect her to us. This could work. You know it could.”
“We have to get her into Mitchell’s rooms.” Dominic still looks tense. “Have you ever played poker at an underground hall?”
Have I ever. “Yes,” I respond. “The night we met, I was on my way to one.”
Dominic quirks an eyebrow. “Every time I think I have you figured out, Ella,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “You say something that throws me off.” His gaze rests on me, and the look in his eyes sends an arrow of molten lust straight to my core. “You’re full of surprises.”
Now is not the time for lust.
I force my brain to work. “I don’t need you to get me into the game,” I tell them. “I’ll call my guy. He’s got connections.”
Carter shuts his eyes. Relief shudders through him. “Thank you, Gabriella.” He looks up at me. “I can never repay you for what you’re doing for me,” he says. “Name your price.”
Ninety-eight thousand, five hundred dollars.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Carter, I’m not going to take your money.” I cannot take advantage of Carter’s pain and grief. If I do, I will hate myself forever. If it comes down to it, I’ll suck it up and tell my parents what I did, and I’ll weather their disappointment.
But it might not come down to it. Carter said I could keep my winnings.
It’s easy to lose a hundred grand in a night. A lot harder to win it back. I have thirteen days to get it done.
Dominic moves back to the couch. “Now that’s out of the way, let’s talk about other things.” His voice dips seductively, and my brain goes blank. “While you’re in town, I’d love to catch up, Ella. Have you eaten? I can call the kitchen for a meal.”
All I can think about is that night. The two of them. Their hard bodies sandwiching mine. Their mouths on every inch of my body. Their cocks sliding into my mouth, my pussy, my ass… Desire flares back to life, a wild conflagration that refuses to be contained.
“I ate already.” I sound breathless. Eager. Ready.
“Another glass of wine?”
It’s such a tempting offer. I’m about to open my mouth to accept, knowing full well that I’m not just agreeing to a drink, but to a whole lot more…
Then common sense interjects.
While you’re in town, I’d love to catch up. Dominic is making clear what’s on offer, and it’s a temporary hookup.
Dominic and Carter were a one-night stand. I should have forgotten all about them by now. Instead, I haven’t been able to put them out of my mind. I’ve been dreaming about them. Seven months later, one heated look from them, and I’m ready to tear off my clothes and spread my legs.
These guys are dangerous to my peace of mind. I barely got away after one night. I can’t sleep with them again, because if I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk away without getting my heart broken.
For once in my life, I make the smarter decision. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I set my wineglass down and get to my feet. “I’ll call Sammy. I’ll let you know if he can get me into the game.”
And then I flee, because my willpower will only go so far. If they ask me to stay once more, I won’t be able to resist.
8
Dominic
I wake up, hungover and cranky. Too much fucking Scotch last night. I should have known better. I should have said something to Carter, instead of watching him drag Ella—Gabriella—into this. Instead, I’d drank far too much, and I’d held my tongue.
This situation with Ed has been going on for far too long. For six months, Carter’s life has been filled with forced mediation attempts and custody hearings, all culminating in the shit show that was the last hearing.
Judge Bass’ ruling should have brought Carter to his senses, and yet, here we are.
You’re enabling him, my conscience whispers.
Yes, I’ve told Carter he’s being ridiculous. Yes, I’ve told him that this war isn’t good for Noah. But I know I should have done more. I should have put a stop to it when Carter was bad-mouthing Wagner all around town. And I should have definitely said something when he involved Gabriella last night.
I swallow a couple of ibuprofens with a mugful of coffee, shower, and head down the hallway to my office. The penthouse floor of the Grand River is divided into two sections. One side is my apartment. The other houses the senior management offices of the casino. The commute is one of the definite perks of being the boss.
“Good morning, Dominic,” my assistant Nita chirps.
“If you say so.” I grab last night’s numbers from the customary spot on her desk. “Table games are down.”
“Ten percent down from yesterday, five-point-eight percent down from this time last year,” Nita replies. “Shannon called. She said that half her blackjack dealers were out last night.”
“Yeah, Carter said something about that.” Carter’s convinced that Denton Mitchell is behind this. I’m less paranoid than my best friend, but in this case, he’s probably right. Both Carter and I have been preoccupied with the Wagner situation. Neither of us has paid enough attention to Mitchell, who is becoming a serious problem that we cannot afford to ignore. “Can you set up a meeting with Shannon and Carter this afternoon?”
“Sure thing.” She surveys me. “You look dreadful,” she says. “Do you want me to call the kitchen for breakfast?”
I laugh. “Never change, Nita. No to the breakfast, thank you, but I would love a cup of coffee.” I head to my office, massage my temples, and read through the rest of the reports. I’m deliberately trying not to think about Gabriella. She’d haunted my dreams again last night, but this time, she wasn’t in bed with Carter and me. She’d been in Mitchell’s poker room, and the asshole had pulled a gun on her, and I was a helpless bystander who couldn’t save her in time.
I don’t think it’s a good idea she’s involved, and neither does my subconscious. Damn it all to hell. I don’t think her safety is at risk—Mitchell isn’t stupid and won’t resort to acts of outright violence—but I still don’t like it.
There’s a knock on the door. I look up. Nita comes in with a fresh cup of coffee, a chocolate chip muffin, and a bottle of water. “Raj is outside and wants fifteen minutes of your time.”
“Sure, send him in.” I take a bite of the muffin, gulp down half of the coffee, and wash it down with the water. “Nita, you’re a lifesaver.”
“I know,” she quips. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”
Raj is my business development manager. He comes in, a somber expression on his face, sits down and leans forward. “We’re in talks to buy a parking lot across the street. Katrina put it on her wish-list. Something about valet parking for the high-rollers.”
“The high-rollers don’t like waiting five extra minutes for their cars.”
He rolls his eyes. “I weep for their pain. Anyway, Randall Paulson was amenable to the sale. The couple who run the restaurant that’s there now wants to retire and move closer to their grandchildren, and—”
“Jerome and Maggie are retiring?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “You know them?”
“I used to do my homework in that diner,” I reply. Time is speeding by. Days turn into months and years, and before I know it, Jerome and Maggie are moving away. “Twenty years ago, the Grand River wasn’t
doing great. Both my parents worked at the casino, so after school, I’d sit in that diner, and Maggie would keep an eye on me.” I shake my head. Carter and I used to eat breakfast at their diner at least once a week. When was the last time we were there? It’s been six months. Maybe even longer. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off. You were saying that Randall Paulson was amenable to the sale?”
“He was,” Raj replies. “He isn’t anymore.”
“If Jerome and Maggie want to stay, we look elsewhere. I’m not pushing them out of their diner, Raj.”
“Nita warned me you’d say that,” he replies. “But that’s not it. The diner is closing on schedule. They’re still moving away. Paulson just refuses to sell.”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. Denton Mitchell again? My lips thin. Mitchell is rapidly moving from a nuisance to a serious disruption. “I’ll look into it,” I tell Raj grimly. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
Just after noon, Mitchell walks into my office.
Denton Mitchell is the wrong side of fifty. Red-faced. About fifty pounds overweight, and his suit is working overtime to disguise it. Kudos to his tailor. His hair is thinning, and his forehead is beaded with sweat.
I lift my head. Nita must be at lunch, otherwise she’d have never let him walk in here. Nita is five-feet tall and probably weighs a hundred-and-twenty pounds soaking wet, and I’d still put my money on her. “Mitchell,” I say coolly. “To what do I owe this…” I pause for a split-second before finishing the sentence. “…pleasure?”
“I was in the neighborhood.” He sits down without being invited. “I came to see if you’ve reconsidered my offer.”
“Was my reply not clear the first time around? The Grand River is not for sale.”
“Are you sure about that, Crawford?” He leans back, a smug smile curling his lips. “Three dealers didn’t come into work yesterday. So far, I’ve played nice. But it’d be a damned shame if one of your employees got hurt.”
My fingers close into fists. “You touch any of my people, and I will personally beat you to a pulp.”
“You,” he sneers. “I didn’t inherit my wealth from my father, Crawford. I clawed my way up. Don’t make any threats your Ivy League ass can’t carry out.”
This fucking guy. “Clawed your way up. Is that code for ‘married a daughter of Cosa Nostra?’” I lean forward. “I was on Princeton’s boxing team. Go ahead. Try me. Test my resolve.”
Mitchell lumbers to his feet. “You’re young,” he says. “Wealthy. Good-looking, even. You should keep it that way.” He’s almost at the door when he tosses a parting shot. “Thank Hughes for me, will you? Wagner’s turning into such a valuable employee.”
Fuck.
My headache roars back with a vengeance. Fuck it all to hell.
I pick up my phone and call Katrina. “What room do we have Nicky Z in?”
“She’s in a suite on the twenty-ninth floor.”
“Move her to the hotel penthouse floor, please.” The hotel’s penthouse is the level below us. “Put her PR rep there as well.”
“In another suite?” Katrina clicks some keys. “I can move Nicky Z into a suite, but we don’t have availability for her PR person, not unless—”
I don’t care where we put Nicky Z. Just Gabriella. “Put her in the Rose Room.”
Katrina audibly sucks in a breath. “You want me to put Nicky Z’s assistant in the room that’s reserved for visiting—”
I cut her off again. “Visiting family, yes.” My cousins—the ones that visit, anyway—are in Europe for the summer. The Rose Room is kept vacant because it’s the room where my father asked my mother to marry her. She said yes, and ever since then, even if we’re booked solid, we don’t put guests in that room. “We can hardly move Nicky Z and leave her assistant behind.”
“Sure.” Katrina sounds confused. “You’re the boss.”
It’s not because I want Gabriella that I’ve moved her to a nicer room, I tell myself. It’s just to thank her for helping us.
Even I know that’s a lie.
9
Gabriella
I spend another night tossing and turning, my dreams filled with images of Carter and Dominic. Needless to say, I don’t wake up at five in the morning to go to the gym. Even worse, I’m seven minutes late to my breakfast meeting with Anna.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologize to her as I slide into my seat.
“No worries,” she says easily. “How’s it going, Gabby? Francisco still being an ass?”
A waiter glides over and places a menu in front of me, saving me from having to answer her question. “What’s good here?” I ask Anna instead.
“Get the Eggs Benedict,” she replies. “They’re fantastic.”
I order the eggs and a pot of tea. The waiter disappears, and I turn to my co-worker. The last time I saw Anna was at the company holiday party. “You’re leaving Karpis? How come?”
“You haven’t heard? I thought the gossip would have spread by now. Leo Norris made a pass at me, and I reported it to HR.”
My mouth falls open. “And they fired you?” I ask, outraged. Leo Norris is a high-profile client, and God knows we PR reps are expendable, but this sucks.
“No, I quit.” She shrugs. “You know how it is, Gabby. Norris is more important than me. Karpis & Associates won’t fire me outright, not in the era of MeToo, but they’ll sideline me. I knew my career with them was over the moment I went to HR.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t look so glum.” She flashes me a smile. “It’s not the end of the world. Nicky offered me a job, and I was tempted, but it would have involved too much travel. She tours constantly. I’m going back to Miami. My family owns a chain of delis. I’m heading up their marketing department.” She shakes her head wryly. “Twenty-seven stores, and they barely have a website. No Twitter. No Instagram. I’m going to drag them, kicking and screaming, into the twenty-first century.”
“That sounds awesome. I’m a little envious.”
Our food arrives. Anna waits for the waiter to head out of earshot, and then she gives me a piercing look. “Don’t tell me you don’t want out, because I know you do. You’re long overdue for a promotion, but Francisco only hands those to his favorites.”
Oh, what’s the point in pretending? I know Anna well enough to know that she won’t betray my confidence. “I want out,” I admit. “I was saving up to start my own firm. I thought I’d be able to leave in six months, but life threw me a curveball.” That’s one way of putting it. “It’s going to be longer now.”
Anna leans forward, ignoring her Eggs Benedict. “How long does Paul have you up here?”
“A couple of weeks, he said. Until he can find your replacement.”
“Get him to keep you here for the duration of Nicky’s run,” she replies. “Nicky isn’t thrilled with Karpis & Associates. It’s a large agency, and she feels lost in the shuffle. If you do a good job while you’re here, she’d hire you. How many clients do you need to break even?”
“It depends on the size of the account, but I could do it with as little as six.” The possibilities start running through my mind. If I already have one client, then maybe I won’t need as much money in reserve before I launch. It’s risky, sure, but then, so is losing almost a hundred grand in a high-stakes poker game, and somehow, I seemed to have managed to do that.
Stay five weeks. Spend all day in Dominic’s casino, knowing that the two men that haunt my dreams are one elevator ride away.
It’ll get you closer to your goal.
“I’ll talk to Paul.”
After breakfast, I head back up to my room. My laptop has turned itself off—software updates, gah!—and while I wait for it to restart, I keep my promise to Carter and text Sammy. I need to get in on a game in Atlantic City, I type. Can you help?
Sammy doesn’t text me back, not right away. It’s almost three when he calls me. “I don’t like texting,” he says. “You left
town, dollface. You aren’t planning on running on me, are you?”
I bite back my snarky retort. As sharks go, Sammy isn’t the worst one in the ocean. He’ll still beat you up if you don’t pay, but he won’t mess with you if you don’t mess with him. But it’s probably still a good idea not to antagonize the guy.
“Would I be texting you if I were running?” So much for not antagonizing the guy. “I’m in Atlantic City on work. Don’t worry, you’ll get your money.” I take a deep breath and try for a conciliatory tone. “I’ve got to play somewhere, Sammy.”
Sammy has no reason not to help me. He’s a businessman, and he wants to get paid. Still, my nerves prickle as I wait for him to answer.
“I don’t like it,” he says finally. “Gabriella, the guy who runs the underground games in Atlantic City is bad news. Give Mitchell a pass. Play at the casinos, okay? The Hellenic, the Grand River, they both have good reputations. I’ll even give you another week to pay your debt.”
Aww. Sammy’s watching out for me. That’s almost sweet.
“I can’t play at the Grand River.”
“Why not?”
“The assholes wouldn’t let me get on the high stakes tables,” I lie, offering a silent apology to Dominic and Carter. “I tried last night.”
He mutters a curse. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll make some calls.”
“Can I still get another week to pay you back?”
“Don’t push it, dollface.”
I hang up and get back to my laptop, replying to fan comments on Nicky’s Insta. I’m just about finished when there’s a knock on my door. I open it to find a petite Black woman standing there. She gives me a bright smile. “Hello, I’m Katrina Anderson. I’m the Director of Hospitality at the Grand River.”
“Gabriella Alves.”
We shake hands. “Everyone at the Grand River is delighted with Nicky Z’s run,” she says. “Mr. Crawford has requested that both Nicky Z and you be moved to the penthouse floor. You will be in the Rose Room.” She holds out a keycard.
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