Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Yeah, this one will do as my replacement dress.”
“Keep all of them.” He waves his hand dismissively. I’m not sure if he realizes that rack probably encompasses over 10K in clothing. “Nobody should wear a red dress but you. You’re a fucking knock-out in red.”
I snort. “Don’t you know redheads aren’t supposed to wear red?” I’m already calculating how much I can make selling them on Ebay.
“Oh, I know. But you’re no ordinary redhead.” He emphasizes the word ordinary like he really heard me earlier, really gets what I meant. And I realize I’ll never sell a single one.
“What happened with Nico and Sondra?” I demand.
Stefano shakes his head. “Just some shit Nico had to work out.”
“About getting out of his marriage contract?”
Stefano arches a brow. “You know about that?”
I put my hands on my hips. “I told you I’m practically family.”
He grins. “So you are.” He rubs his shadowed jaw. “Nico fixed it. Our brother made him sweat it, though. They scared the hell out of your cousin, but she’s fine. I would apologize, but if I took responsibility for the nasty things my family does, I’d never stop.”
My heart squeezes a little for Stefano. Like me, he can’t help who his father is. He hasn’t escaped the legacy of violence.
His comms unit buzzes again. “Let’s move, bella. We’ve got shit to do.”
Chapter 6
Stefano
I walk around the casino with Corey at my side. People who don’t recognize her assume she’s my girlfriend. I’m sure we make a striking pair. Those who do know her, shoot her a range of stares, varying from jealous to concerned to bald curiosity.
On the way down, she complained about not having any cosmetics, so we stopped at the salon to have her makeup done, and then I had to take her to the in-house jeweler to buy a pair of diamond drop earrings.
I like spoiling her. The fact that Corey doesn’t gush or purr when I do makes it all the more pleasurable. She plays hard to get, making me work for her smiles and make up for keeping her as my captive. But it’s not just about the chase with her.
I’m fucking fascinated.
But I’d have to be out of my mind to get seriously involved with the daughter of a fed. A crooked fed, according to Nico’s research. Which means an unpredictable, dangerous asshole. And Junior, my asshole brother who just put a gun to Nico’s head for wanting to marry the woman of his choosing, would probably order me to off the guy if I wanted to keep seeing Corey.
And I’m not going to kill her fucking father. Even if they are estranged.
I lean into Corey. We’re observing one of the blackjack tables, making the croupier nervous. “Tell me about who you see,” I murmur.
“Cerebral spender. Probably trying to count cards. When he loses count, he runs his hand through his hair and shakes the ice in his drink. Which he hasn’t drunk a drop from.”
“Working alone?”
“Yes. He’s up two thousand, but he’s getting tired. The stress of it wears him out.”
I stroke my hand up and down Corey’s side. Being near her body electrifies me, but hearing how her brain works—witnessing her brilliance firsthand—that sets my soul on fire.
“What else?” I prompt.
“Jack is the croupier. He accidentally put a $20 chip meant for him in the house pot, probably because we’re freaking him out watching. Otherwise, he’s a decent dealer.”
“Anyone else interesting?”
“Nah. Young people who don’t know what they’re doing. People with money to lose. That’s it.”
“Next table.” I guide her to another perch and order her a drink. The floor manager comes over to check in and when he’s gone, she gives me an equally germane report on the three tables in her view.
If she were a beefy man, I would put her on my security team in a heartbeat. As it is, I can’t decide the best use of her incredible talents. “I’m thinking I want you on every employment interview at the Bellissimo. You sure you don’t want a job in HR?”
She wrinkles her nose at me.
Another idea strikes me. “Do you ever play poker, yourself?”
She changes the crossing of her long legs and memories of those legs spread on my bed gets me hard. It’s a perpetual state around this woman. “Croupiers aren’t allowed to gamble in their own casino.”
I grin. “You telling me the rules now, smarty-pants? I mean elsewhere.”
She shakes her head, but I watch something come to life in her. “I’ve always wanted to. I actually love to watch those championships; the ones that are televised on the sports channel? I swear to God, I could beat those guys. I’m serious; if I had money to burn, I’d totally enter.”
I sit back, satisfied. Corey Simonson just confessed something she wants in life.
I’ll be damned if I don’t make it happen.