Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
There’s danger at the Bellissimo and until this point, I always managed to stay out of it.
Still, I’m going to be well-paid. And although this might not help me when push comes to shove, my cousin has the owner’s ear. Of course, he didn’t think twice about making Dean disappear.
I wear a clingy red dress—the one Sondra borrowed last week when she got herself into trouble flirting with another man to make Nico jealous.
It molds to my body, showing off my cleavage with a plunging neckline and my long legs with a provocative slit up the side.
I’m not dressing for Stefano. I’m not.
Okay, yeah, he might have been on my mind as I showered and dressed. I might have paid a little more attention to my makeup and hair tonight than usual.
But that’s not because I hope anything will happen. Getting involved with Stefano Tacone is the last thing I’m interested in—the very last! But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a little male attention, especially from a man who makes my body light up when he’s nearby.
I park in the employee parking area and strut into the casino, my purse clutched under my arm. I put it away in an employee locker.
“What are you wearing?” Tad, one of the other croupiers asks. He’s okay. Pretty into himself, but nice enough. He gives me an up and down look without much interest. I’m not sure the guy is interested in anyone other than the person he sees in the mirror.
“Don’t ask,” I say as I pin my nametag on the dress and slam my locker shut.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He catches my arm. “What’s going on? Did you get transferred to another department?”
“You could say that. I’m dealing for a private game tonight.”
Tad’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Wow. Be careful.”
I nod. Okay, I wasn’t being paranoid. Even regular employees think this is a bad idea. “Thanks, I will.”
I head to Stefano’s office, holding my head high, sinking into my croupier persona. It’s an interesting one—more dominatrix than stewardess, but I still have to be approachable and friendly, especially when gamblers are warming up.
Stefano’s door stands ajar and I hear him reaming out one of the floor managers. His style is different from Nico’s. His body language is casual, not nearly so deadly, but the result is the same. The manager shakes in his wingtips. Which doesn’t bother me a bit, because the guy is a douche.
Stefano flicks a glance at me and holds up a finger, so I take a step back to give them privacy.
A few moments later, the manager comes out, sweat dripping from his temples.
I step in and Stefano flashes his panty-melting smile, unfolding himself from where he was perched on the edge of his desk, presumably to tower over the manager in a power play.
“Entra, bambina. You look great.” He does the fingertip kissing gesture like I’m something delicious he’s going to eat. “Perfezionare.” He walks right up to me and reaches for my nametag, unpinning it from my dress. His fingertips brush the bare skin of my décolletage, sending a tidal wave of heat pouring between my legs.
It’s far too intimate a gesture between boss and employee. I’m overly aware of his proximity—the Henry Cavill good looks, the scent of soap and light cologne, the deft movements of his fingers so close to my breasts. The man is always so damn self-assured, which shouldn’t unnerve me. I’m the same way—usually.
“No, nametag, hmm?” I step back, struggling to regain my footing.
“Nah. It detracts from the, ah, view.” He lets his eyes shamelessly wander over my cleavage before tossing my nametag on his desk with the same casual grace he does everything.
I frame my breasts with my hands. “Are the girls what got me this new job?” I ask drily.
He gives me a crooked smile. “They didn’t hurt.” Another lingering look that makes me roll my eyes. He smirks. “The game won’t start for a couple hours. Walk around the floor and be my eyes. Find me at 9:30 p.m. and I’ll take you upstairs.”
“Be your eyes?”
He nods like I should know exactly what he means. “Check security, look for anything suspicious or off, report anything you find.”
I try to hide my surprise at this new duty. I’m a croupier, not a security guard, but I don’t argue. At least it’s a task that my tits didn’t have to qualify for. Hell, it could actually be entertaining. I have a good sense for people. I can smell a rat a mile away. You might say I got it from my dad, but I try not to claim any traits of his, good or bad. And besides, he was the biggest rat of all—maybe that’s how I know.
I amble through the casino, stopping to watch the bets and tables. I enjoy looking through the lens of Stefano’s eyes. What would he want me to report?