Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
One look and she’d had some sort of a hold on him.
One conversation, a few lines about drinks and business, and he was obsessed.
Obsessed was probably the wrong word, but intrigued was far too pale. And everything he’d done since—running background checks, going through this dog and pony show with the Chippendale model … it fit into the obsessive mold as cleanly as a dollar bill was eaten by an Amatic slot machine.
He didn’t have time for this. He had casinos to run and millions to make. He sighed. “Screw this. Let’s end this hell of a day.”
* * *
In the condo, he undid his watch and slid it off his wrist, setting it in the black velvet drawer, next to the others. Working on the sleeves of his shirt, he glanced up, into the mirror. His father’s face stared back at him, lined with stress, his eyes tired, the silver in his hair more prominent at times like this, when it needed a cut.
“Let me get that.” Gwen approached, her slender fingers tugging his sleeve, deftly undoing the cufflinks and dropping them into their place. She reached for the other one, and he watched her work, glancing at her face. Her hair fell down, a dark curtain of sheen hiding the delicate features. She was a beautiful woman, and he lifted his hand, pushing the hair gently out of the way, the action causing her to look up, her mouth curving into a smile.
“Thank you.” She raised on her toes and pressed her lips against his cheek. “I’m heading to bed.”
“Goodnight,” Dario said, emptying his pockets. He set the thick wad of cash on the counter, followed by his keycard and phone.
“Everything okay?” She paused at the entrance to his closet, leaning her cheek against the doorframe, her eyes on his. That was the problem with being married to your best friend. They knew everything without asking. Still, her face held the question.
“It’s nothing.” He shook his head, sitting on the bench and working the knot of his laces. “A non-issue.”
She studied him for a long moment, one he avoided by removing his left shoe, then his right. He inserted the shoe tongues in each, then looked up at her. “Just one of those long days.”
She smiled and raised her hands in surrender. “Okay. Mope on your own. I’ll be in bed if you need anything.”
He watched her leave, the satin slip clinging to her curves as she walked to her bedroom. She was one of the most powerful women in Vegas. In her day, she’d also been one of the most beautiful, a beauty that had refined and matured as she’d aged. For one brief and early moment in their marriage, they’d tried a physical relationship. It hadn’t done anything for either of them and now, ten years later, they had settled in the comfortable roles that worked for them. She handled the hotels, the food and beverage, the events. He handled the casinos, the finances, their umbrella corporations, and any dirty work that crossed their golden plates.
Dario changed into workout shorts, then took the staircase down to their private gym. Hitting the treadmill first, he put on music and ramped up the incline and speed until he was jogging.
Their marriage was anything but normal—a business relationship solidified by friendship and respect. He fucked a dancer named Meghan on a regular basis, along with Laney, a waitress from the Marlin Club. Gwen had her own lover—Nick, their foreman at the ranch. Out of mutual respect, they kept their affairs hidden from each other, the public, and from Gwen’s father. But things were observed between them and mistakes were sometimes made. They were both intelligent adults with a clear understanding of their marriage and the unbreakable friendship at its core.
But this waitress from The House … out of every woman he’d met in Vegas, she had the potential to be trouble. He should walk away. Never enter that place again and drop any continued efforts to buy it. Stay in his life of power and away from the exotic brunette with the legs he wanted to bury his mouth between. He needed to forget everything about her and continue forward on his golden path with Gwen.
He increased the speed until he was sprinting, his heart hammering in his chest, his Nikes pounding the treadmill, his breath coming hard, sweat dripping down his chest.
It had been sixty seconds of interaction. Less than a commercial break. As short as a hand of blackjack. Forgetting her should be easy.
But in sixty seconds, a gun could be fired. A knife thrust. A bomb ignited. Sixty seconds could be nothing, or it could destroy a man.
He stumbled on the treadmill, against the furious pace, and felt his life veer off track.
Six
BELL
Naked, I walked down the hall and into the kitchen, leaning on the island with a lazy groan. “I can’t find my dress.”