Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“Ben Maverick is here. He wants more credit.”
“Too fucking bad. If he can’t pay tonight, beat the shit out of him and toss him over the Falls.”
Aldo’s eyebrows lifted. “I’ll call you back,” he said into the phone.
He hung up. “May I remind you how much he spends here? How much money you make off him? The yacht you got when he couldn’t pay one time?”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
He shook his head. “Maybe you should come to the casino with me. Find someone to spend some time with.”
I knew what he was saying. Find someone to fuck my frustration out of me.
“Not interested.”
“You want me to call Larry? Have him spar with you?”
“No.”
“You wanna spar with me? We can go a few rounds.”
“I’m going to my suite.”
“In the mood you’re in—”
I cut him off as the door opened. “Fuck off, Aldo. Do your job. Stop playing mother. I don’t fucking need one.”
He didn’t back down. “Maybe Effie should stay in Nonna V’s room.”
“She’s not fucking going anywhere.”
“Is she safe?” he asked quietly.
I dropped my head. “Yes.” I strode out of the elevator.
“I’ll take care of it, boss,” he said dryly. “I’ll check in later. Everything better be okay. I’d hate to take you on for doing something you’d never forgive yourself for.”
I was still glaring as the doors shut.
I headed past my suite and went to Nonna’s. They were connected by a door Effie hadn’t seen or noticed yet. Nonna rarely came to the casino, but when she did, she had her own room, decorated by her. It was feminine and looked nothing like a hotel suite. I used the shower in her en suite and washed off the altercation with Connor. I let the hot water pour over my shoulders, sluicing down my back and loosening the tight muscles, but I was still tense. I dried my hair with a towel and wrapped another one around my waist. I took my clothes and walked through the large closet and into my own, dumping them in the hamper. I pulled on some sweats and a T-shirt and headed into the bedroom, surprised not to find Effie in bed. I went to the office and found her asleep on the sofa. I sat on the coffee table, studying her face. The creams from Vi and the spa were helping the bruising on her face. The blue-black was fading, a tinge of green and yellow showing through. I reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, grimacing at the bruising on my own skin. I had torn the skin on my knuckles when I’d smashed my fist into the cement wall beside Connor’s head a short while ago. I had been tempted to hit his head, but instead, injured myself. That didn’t improve my mood much.
A voice brought me from my musings.
“Are you all right?”
I looked down at Effie. She looked sleepy and soft. She gazed at me, concerned. Worried. For some reason, that angered me more. I wanted her to stop looking at me like I was a good guy. I was anything but.
“I’m fine.” I indicated the sofa. “You prefer this to the comfortable bed in the other room? This is my office. It’s for business, not naps,” I said, sounding exasperated.
She frowned. “I was waiting for you. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You should be in bed resting. If you’d listened to what the doctor said, you’d know that.”
She crossed her arms. “I was a little out of it when he was speaking.”
“Hence the rest.”
She tilted her head. “Did you kill someone?”
“Don’t ask me questions like that,” I snapped and stood. I paced the room, anxious energy and anger coursing through me. I had too much adrenaline roaring through my body.
“I have to know.”
“Why?” I shouted. “Why is it so fucking important to you?”
“Because if you did, it’s my fault. I told you what to look for.”
Her words stopped me. I huffed an exasperated breath and shook my head. “Stop taking the blame for the decisions of others. You are not responsible for his actions, any more than you were responsible for Marianne’s. And to answer your question, no, I did not kill him. In fact, you are what held me back. I showed leniency. Gave him a chance to make restitution.”
“Why?” she asked.
I smacked my hand on the top of my desk. “I don’t fucking know,” I roared. “I should have killed him. Or cut off his fingers to teach him never to steal from me again. But all I could hear was your voice telling me how you handled the same situation. I could see how fucking desperate the kid was.”
“And that made you angry?” she asked, rising from the sofa and walking toward me.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He stole from me. He deserved to be punished.”