Master of Control (Gods of Vegas Book 5)

by Sienna Snow

  Was she as affected by me as I was by her?

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, breaking the silence between us.

  “I’m trying to figure you out.”

  “What is there to figure out? I’m a woman in a nightclub enjoying a night out.”

  She slid against me in the rhythm the DJ mixed, and I almost groaned.

  “I find that hard to believe, Boss.” I gave her a knowing smile, and she returned it.

  “So, you’re the VIP Justine wanted me to meet?”

  “I’m glad we met like this and not as part of your business.”

  “Like what?” She was playing with me.

  “In the way a man who finds a woman attractive and experiences instantaneous chemistry.”

  Her breath hitched but she tried to mask it.

  “Tell me you don’t feel it.” I pressed her toward me, bringing her face close to mine.

  She licked her lips as her gaze held mine. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because nothing can come of it.”

  “I disagree.” Before I could say more, a group of women moved around us, one bumping my shoulder.

  Almost immediately, a giant of a man moved in our direction. Eloisa shook her head and he moved back to his perch against a pillar.

  She had security watching her every move. I should have expected this. Benz was not going to leave his princess unguarded. However, I had a hard time believing he knew about or would allow his daughter to be in the cutthroat nightclub business.

  “This is a nice place. Different. Something I’d expect from the Lykaios brothers in Las Vegas.”

  Anyone in the entertainment industry knew who the Lykaios brothers were. They’d created an empire that catered to the indulgence of Las Vegas, from casinos and resorts to sporting events, shows, and nightclubs. Each brother had his specific focus, with nightlife being Hagen Lykaios’s particular vein of interest.

  She gave me a brilliant smile that made her beauty more dazzling. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I can only hope to garner the success Hagen Lykaios has created. Like his properties, none of my places are the same. Each has a different vibe, but with a more European flair.”

  Her enthusiasm for her business told me this wasn’t some hobby but an actual endeavor she wanted to make a success.

  “How many do you have?”

  “I don’t know you well enough to divulge that information.”

  “Then get to know me.”

  “You don’t give up.”

  “No success ever came by giving up.”

  The music changed and she stepped out of my hold.

  “Thank you for the dance.”

  “I want to see you again,” I said as she turned to walk away.

  She paused and faced me again. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  She closed her eyes for a second, releasing a sigh of resignation. “Because I’m promised to someone else.”

  Well, I wasn’t expecting her to say that. She went with the truth, not a fabrication.

  “Promised? As in engaged?”

  “Yes, exactly.” She clenched her jaw, telling me she was as thrilled to marry me as I’d been to marry her.

  “You don’t seem happy about it. I thought women were excited when they’re about to get married.”

  She swallowed, and I waited to hear her response.

  “It was arranged. I’ve never met him. I won’t meet him until our wedding day.”

  “Isn’t that a bit archaic? No one does arranged marriages nowadays. And if they did, the couple would at least meet before the big day.”

  “The world I come from isn’t modern. It doesn’t follow the rules of society. I’m the one who didn’t want to meet. What difference would it make anyway? Any objections to our marriage are irrelevant. Our families will suffer the consequences otherwise.”

  “You make it sound like your family is the mob and it’s about territory.” She’d thrown truth my way, I’d do the same.

  “I’ve accepted my fate. I’m sorry we didn’t meet sooner. We could have seen where this…” she paused, “…this thing between us could have led. Thank you for the dance.”

  As she moved to walk away, I grabbed her arm. “What about friendship?”

  “Friendship?” A crease of confusion formed between her brows. “I don’t follow.”

  “What if we were friends? Nothing more. I’d like to get to know you.”

  “I don’t have many men who are friends.” She looked down to where I held her, the heat of her skin penetrating into mine. “Plus…”

  “Plus, what?”

  She lifted her gaze to mine. “It wouldn’t work. I don’t know how to be friends with someone I’m attracted to.”

  “You’re very direct.”

  “It’s the way of things for me. If I’m not, then all anyone would see is the outside and the image my family has created of me.”

  “So, you know you’re beautiful?”

  “I look like my mother, so yes. That doesn’t mean I want someone to value me for it.” There was a slight tone of anger there that told me it was a sore subject.

  “Give me your name, at least.”

  “Isa.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go.”

  There was a hint of panic in her voice. I wanted to push, but I couldn’t. I had no rights over her. Well, as far as she knew.

  “I’m Baz.”

  “That’s unusual.”

  “My mother gave me that nickname.”

  “What does it stand for?”

  “That would require you to meet me for coffee tomorrow.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Sure, you can. Meet me at Emma’s around two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I’m sure you know where it is, since you can see it on the corner of this street.”

  “I won’t be there.”

  “I can always hope.” I held her gaze as I released my hold on her hand and then turned, walking toward the doors leading to the exit.

  Chapter Five

  Isa

  I entered my apartment around four in the morning ready for a few hours of sleep. I was exhausted from a busy night putting out one fire after another, something to be expected when opening a new club. And I was more than a bit messed up from meeting Baz.

  Of all the times in my life to meet a man who affected me to such an intense level, it had to happen after I’d gotten engaged.

  Baz made me feel like he could see deep inside me, down to my soul. Where I kept all my secrets.

  And he wanted to meet for coffee. As friends.

  Was that even possible with a man one was attracted to?

  I walked straight into my bedroom, tugging at the zipper on the side of my dress. Just as I pulled the designer fabric over my head, my phone rang.

  Throwing the dress on a nearby chair, I walked back into the living room where I’d dropped my purse.

  The ringing stopped.

  Pulling my cell out, I checked the display and groaned.

  Oma.

  This was going to be a long lecture. I’d better get comfortable.

  I quickly ran into my closet, grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank, shrugged them on, and then called Oma back while crawling onto my bed.

  “Where have you been? You should be in bed, not running around town. You’re engaged, for God’s sake.” The irritation in her voice was palpable.

  I could admit I hadn’t made it easy for my family. Unless I was required to visit for a dinner or a gathering, I avoided them. And even on those occasions, I kept conversation to a minimum and found an excuse to leave early. I wanted to take every bit of freedom I would have before I became Frau Sebastian Weber.

  The sad part was, I mainly spent my nights working. Yes, it was in my many nightclubs, but it was still work.

  “Good morning, Oma. Why are you upset? I am in bed. It’s a bit early for a social call.” I yawned, feeling sleep pushin
g to the forefront of my mind.

  “Don’t you lie to me. I’m not as naive as your papa, believing his precious girl is staying home every night even though she’s being forced into marriage.”

  I wouldn’t say Papa was naive. Over the last month, I’d realized Papa was trying to make up for the whole mess we were in by letting me do what I wanted. He knew I went out every night. I never hid it, but he thought I was with my friends, not running my business. As long as my security reported that I was fine, he left me alone.

  “If I were sleeping with someone you would have good cause to keep tabs on me. I’m not.”

  “You better not.”

  Her outrage made me want to laugh. But she was beyond old school and so I listened and kept my amusement to myself.

  Oma probably thought I was a virgin too. Lord, if she only knew my deflowering had happened under her nose, while on vacation with her in Switzerland.

  I’d been seventeen, about to move to university. I’d met an eighteen-year-old son of a diplomat and we’d had a quick fling. We’d both known it would go nowhere with our parents being who they were. In the end, we’d become friends. Friends who’d stayed in touch over the years and then eventually worked together when I’d opened my first club.

  “Oma, I’m not going to run away. I’m enjoying my life and the freedom I have. Besides, where would I go?”

  She remained quiet for a few seconds.

  “Don’t get into trouble. Your papa and mama have enough on their shoulders.”

  I clenched my jaw. I hadn’t spoken to my mother, outside of the required responses, since the night I’d found out about the contract.

  I still couldn’t understand why she’d kept this from me.

  Hell, why had she kept it from Papa?

  They were the quintessential mafia romance couple whose story would rival the plots of the most popular novels.

  “Oma, I’m tired. I want to go to sleep.”

  Oma sighed. “It’s not easy for her. She made a vow to keep the truth from everyone.”

  “A vow to who?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Isa. Just know she isn’t the villain you want her to be. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s your Opa. God rest his soul, the man made decisions no one could argue with. His reasoning for going to Weber will stay with him in the grave.”

  It had been three years since Opa had passed away. I’d loved my grandfather with all my heart. He was rough and grumpy and ruthless, just like Papa was today.

  I knew to understand even an inkling of what he’d been thinking, I would have to talk to Mama.

  “Do you miss him?”

  “Every day.”

  “Did you always love him?”

  Why hadn’t I asked that before?

  I guessed I’d never known a time when Opa and Oma weren’t the couple who were in love. Opa had been traditional, with clear ideas of the roles of men and women, but he’d treated Oma like a treasure.

  “No, I actually hated him for the first two years of our fifty-three years together.”

  “What?”

  “He had a mistress, and I wasn’t going to accept it, no matter who he was. It took two years for him to get his head out of his ass. Once your Opa stopped living the life of a bachelor, I gave him a chance.”

  “And it took you how long to love him?”

  “Another year. Around the time your Aunt Carolena was born, I knew he’d changed.”

  My Aunt Caro was a force of nature, and I adored her. She’d moved to America after her arranged marriage twenty years earlier and never looked back. She was the wife of an investment manager who catered to families like mine. Even though she could have lived a life of pampered luxury, she ran a chain of high-fashion resale shops that specialized in used designer clothing worn once, if ever.

  “Do you think there’s hope for me?”

  Why had I asked that?

  I wasn’t sure I could ever grow to love a man who held my family’s future in his hands.

  What would I do if Sebastian forbade me to have my businesses or work?

  I knew plenty of women in our world who had to give up everything they’d treasured before their marriages to focus on the needs and wants of her husband and his family.

  “There is always hope, Hasi.”

  “Thank you, Oma.” I released a loud yawn. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Now get a few hours’ sleep. You’ll need it.”

  What was happening that I’d need sleep? Mama and Papa couldn’t spring another surprise marriage on me.

  “Why?”

  “Your future father-in-law is going to meet the family for brunch at noon.”

  My lids shot open. “What?”

  They must not have understood that when I’d said I didn’t want to meet my future husband that it also extended to his family.

  “You heard me. Don’t be late. Good night.” She hung up.

  With this new bit of news, I was not going to have any sort of relaxing sleep.

  Around twelve thirty, I arrived at El Pesto, an Italian eatery outside the posh neighborhood where my parents lived and I’d grown up. I was late and expected annoyed glares from my family. I was never late to anything, and the fact I was late would mean they thought I’d done it on purpose.

  How was I to know that today of all days I’d hit traffic because of a major accident on the road from my apartment to the restaurant?

  Honestly, I couldn’t say I was too upset. The last thing I wanted to do was have brunch with the man who’d decided it was time I became his son’s wife.

  A tall, rail-thin man with salt-and-pepper hair rushed toward me. “Miss Benz. Welcome. Your family is waiting in the Parlor Room.”

  “Good to see you, Romy. How are the girls?” I leaned forward, kissing his cheeks.

  Romy had been my family’s personal waiter since the time Opa ran the family. He knew everyone’s likes and dislikes and had an uncanny way of anticipating the needs of his guests.

  “They’re very good. Thank you for asking.” He led me through the main dining hall and into a back hallway.

  Papa and Mama never ate in public unless they wanted people to see them. They preferred privacy and the comfort of knowing people weren’t constantly watching them.

  I’d heard Jonas Weber viewed attention very differently. He loved media coverage and went to great lengths for everyone to see him. At least his son wasn’t of the same mindset. I’d spent the last month scouring the Net for every tidbit of information about him. I’d gone as far as to contact my friend Ana, who recently retired from Solon, a security agency specializing in underground information, to help.

  After Ana had gotten over her initial shock of me asking her, she’d agreed to help, but had warned me that her information would be limited since she no longer “officially” worked for Solon.

  With who my father was, we tended to avoid discussion revolving around her job or anyone connected to my family.

  The information she’d found was limited at best, centered around what was publicly known about him, his family ties, education, and various businesses.

  The few pictures of Sebastian available were grainy at best and could have been of any other man on the street. It almost seemed as if he’d scrubbed any and all records about himself.

  There was one bit of news revealed in the report that had surprised me. Sebastian had a deep-seated hatred for anyone involved in human trafficking. If he learned any of his associates were rumored to have ties to that world, he made it a mission to destroy that individual and the organization they were associated with.

  According to Ana, Sebastian had a reputation for using his connections to work with and help groups whose sole purpose was to end this dark underworld practice.

  At least that was something positive about Sebastian Weber.

  Papa had the same belief and gave considerable donations to organizations who helped victims who were rescued from sex-trafficking rings.

  So in the
end, what I’d learned about Sebastian was that he was a ruthless mob boss with a moral compass. Which really gave me no insight into the man himself.

  He was a bigger mystery than ever.

  I’d asked my family not to meet him or learn anything about him until we married, and I guessed the universe was answering my request.

  Then there was the man I’d met last night. He was another enigma. One I shouldn’t be thinking about at all.

  Especially when I was about to meet my father-in-law.

  Jonas Weber was no way near as big a mystery as his son. Jonas had more than an encyclopedia’s worth of information available. I’d learned from listening to conversations over the years that people viewed Jonas as lazy and untrustworthy, and that he possessed an inflated ego. The very type of man Papa despised with a passion.

  “Here you go.” Romy opened the double doors leading into the private dining room.

  Papa, Mama, Oma, and Jonas Weber were seated around an oval table. Everyone’s attention shifted from the conversation they were engaged in to me.

  “I apologize for being late, Papa.” I moved toward him.

  He rose, meeting me halfway. He engulfed me in his arms for a tight hug and a kiss on my cheek.

  “No need to apologize. I heard about the accident on the news reports. Come, meet Jonas Weber.”

  I approached the man who looked much younger than the sixty-eight years the Internet reported him as being. He had a slight dusting of gray at the temples with the rest of his hair being a rich blondish brown. His build was similar to Papa’s, but he wasn’t as fit. Something told me he spent more time behind a desk than out with his men.

  Jonas took my hand, bringing it to his lips. “So, you are my new daughter.”

  “Not yet, but soon.” I gave him a polite smile. Something about the way he looked at me made my skin crawl.

  Oma must have noticed my reaction and spoke up. “Isa, come sit with me. You just missed your fiancé.”

  My heartbeat spiked. “He was here?”

  I moved around to where Oma sat and shot Papa a look, but he ignored me.

  “Yes, but he had pressing business to attend,” Jonas added as he took his seat. “It’s something you’ll have to become used to. As a Weber, you’ll have responsibilities and a role to play.”