Page 6 of Casino King

“This elevator goes to the penthouse. Very few people have direct access.”

Leaning against the cold metal wall, I lower my bag to my feet but keep ahold of the strap.

So, we’re going to the penthouse. My mystery man must be a very important man if he has the penthouse at The Aces – the best hotel and casino in Atlantic City. And Enzo must be pretty trustworthy if he’s one of the few allowed access to his home.

The ride to the top is long, but when the doors slide open, I muster the strength to lift my bag back onto my shoulder and step out into a small hallway with only one door ahead of us. With this door, in addition to a handprint and retinal scan, it requires a keypad entry code.

Enzo holds the door open for me, and the second I step through, my eyes widen. This place is huge. He must have the entire top floor to himself.

The living room in front of me has floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the entire length of the room, giving me an uninterrupted view of the city, boardwalk, and ocean. The bright lights from the other casinos and hotels reflect off the dark water crashing against the shore. It’s beautiful.

I was right in that my mystery man loves black. Everywhere I look, it’s the predominant color, with splashes of grey, white, and red.

A massive chandelier hangs in the middle of the living room that’s dripping with crystals, the light dancing off of it casting beautiful shadows across the ceiling. A big leather couch and two chairs face a fireplace half-wall that divides the left and right side of the room, with a large flatscreen TV hanging above the mantel.

The other side of the fireplace wall is a smaller living room library area, with a wall of floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves and two leather chairs facing the fireplace.

To my left is a massive kitchen and dining room that has me dreaming of cooking something just so I could use the beautiful equipment.

I’ve never seen a place like this. It screams money, power, and status, and I feel out of place in my plain clothes and modest upbringing. I don’t know this kind of wealth.

“Take a seat,” Enzo instructs. “The doctor is on his way up.”

Nodding, I don’t bother commenting that all I need is an icepack and an aspirin because I know he’ll just say it’s not my call and I’ll have wasted my breath. So, I take a seat at the end of the plush leather couch and place my bag tightly by my side – a small comfort to keep me grounded.

I’m staring out the large windows next to me when the door opens a few minutes later, and I turn to see another man in a suit walk in. He’s older, maybe in his mid to late forties, with salt and pepper hair around his temples, and carrying a leather doctor’s bag.

“Tessa, I presume?” he asks me, walking right over to take a seat in the chair next to me.

“Yes.” I nod.

“I’m Joe. Can you tell me what happened?”

Swallowing, I look down at my hands in my lap and play with the ring on my right middle finger. “I was about to get in my car after work when a man came out of nowhere and grabbed my arm.” I lift my right arm to show him, and frown when I see a large handprint has started to form. “He spun me around and pinned me to my car with his hand over my mouth.” My stomach rolls at the memory of his taste. “I tried to break free, but he was much stronger than me. And when he removed his hand, I yelled, which is when he backhanded me across my face. Twice.” I turn my head so he can see. “And then Enzo came and tore the guy off of me.”

“It’s a good thing he was there.”

“Yeah, it was.” I don’t like the fact that I had a man following me for a month and I had no idea, but I’m also glad he was there tonight. I know things would have gone completely different if he wasn’t.

“Do you mind if I look at your injuries?”

“No, it’s fine.” I don’t really have a choice anyhow, I add silently.

Joe lifts my arm and gently runs his hands over the finger bruises, making me wince slightly – a movement he doesn’t miss. I’ve always bruised easily.

“I’m sorry. Can you turn your head?” With the same gentle touch, he presses down on the area around my eye and along my cheek bone, all of which makes me cringe and bite my lower lip to hold back from whimpering.

It hurts, but not enough so that I think anything is actually fractured. He was stronger than he looked, and I think he had a ring on too, making it worse.

“You’re a strong woman. If he had hit you any closer to your eye, then you’d have a lot more bruising that would take a lot longer to heal than what you have here.”

“How do you know?” I ask out of pure curiosity, and he gives me a small smile.

“I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve seen every injury you could possibly imagine. You just need to ice it and take a few aspirin.”

Just as I suspected. “Thank you.”

“Here.” Enzo hands me an icepack wrapped in a towel, a few white pills, and a glass of water. Wow, he’s quick.

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