Page 2 of Vicious Little Games

1

Cole

A year later…

Even from inside the airport, the oppressive Vegas heat hits me like a slap in the face. I already miss the cooler climate of upstate New York, but since my mom controls the purse strings of her mafia father’s inheritance, and refused to pay rent on an apartment near campus this summer, here I fucking am. Back in the goddamn desert where the stench of cigarette smoke will remain in the casinos long after Armageddon and my balls sweat year-round. I’m not sure which of those things is worse.

I’d rather be anywhere else in the world, but as angry as I am at her for lying to me my entire fucking life, I still love my mother. She’s sacrificed so much for me that the least I can do is spend a summer living in the same city as her so we maybe, eventually, meet up once or twice in her new husband’s multi-million-dollar penthouse apartment. That all depends on whether I can let go of some of my resentment.

While I’m waiting for my luggage to appear on the carousel, I turn on my cell phone and am bombarded by voicemails and messages.

Fuck.

She always chooses the worst possible times to pop back up in my life, like a bad case of herpes. And there’s no point in ignoring her. She’ll just double her efforts the longer I put her off. May as well get this shit over with.

With a growl of frustration, I hit her contact name to return her call.

She answers on the second ring.

“I’ve been calling you for hours. Where the hell are you?”

“That’s none of your business, Amber.”

“Let me take a guess. Since the semester just ended, I bet you’re…visiting Mommy in Vegas?”

“What do you want?”

“Another twenty K,” she says without any hesitation.

“You know I’m broke, right? That’s the only reason we ever fucking met, and it’s one of my biggest regrets.”

“Oh, you know you love the attention,” she replies. “And you’re so freaking popular I’m surprised you haven’t taken any more contracts.”

“Hell, no. No more contracts.”

I finally see my light gray, hard-shell suitcase in the sea of black on the carousel and grab the handle, ready to get the hell out of here and off this call. Unfortunately, Amber isn’t finished running her mouth.

“I could use the cash. Unlike you. I heard you’re the grandson of some Russian mobster. So, you can either get me the money or take the contract.”

“A contract isn’t but a quarter of what you’re asking me for, and you fucking know it!” I tell her while walking toward the front doors to find a cab.

“Right, so four more contracts with me should earn us both twenty K. I’ll give you…a month to decide.”

“I need more time than that,” I grit out between my clenched teeth, preparing myself for the heat of the Vegas sun to bear down on me like a fire-breathing dragon as soon as I step outside the airport doors.

“Send me half within a month, and I’ll give you another month to get the rest. If you don’t, I go public before the summer is over,” Amber demands before she ends the call.

“Fucking cunt,” I mutter while staring at the screen on my phone.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

My head instantly lifts at the sound of his familiar voice. Dante Salvato is leaning against a concrete column in his usual custom black suit. Sunglasses cover his eyes, his arms are crossed over his chest, and two guards are flanking him on either side. If anything, the mob boss and his men deserve medals for being brave enough to walk outside wearing all black suits at high noon in Vegas.

The bastard always makes me feel like I’m underdressed, but especially today when I’m wearing wrinkled jeans, a plain white tee, and old white sneakers. Maybe when I make millions of dollars, I’ll dress less casually. Until then, well, it’s a good thing I’m hot enough and charming enough for women to overlook my attire. Growing up poor, I had to learn to be the fun, easygoing guy who could throw down when necessary. Standing taller than everyone else usually kept assholes away. Height that obviously came from my father since my mother stopped growing around the age of twelve. Even though I’m a foot and a half taller than her, she could always put me in my place when I was being a little shit.

In fact, my mother and I were always so close I told her almost everything about my life— from the girls I liked to the shenanigans my friends and I would get into. But this past year I’ve been so damn furious with her that I can barely breathe when I think about how the whole time she was demanding honesty from me, she was lying about who she really was. Who we were. I don’t want to even be in the same room with her, which is why I didn’t tell her I was flying into Vegas this morning to stay with Shane, a friend from high school, for the summer.

So, if her mafia king husband knows my travel plans down to the minute I would step foot out of the airport, then he could find out more than he needs to know about my previous employment in New York and tell her. Insisting on being paid in cash is the only thing that has kept it a secret this damn long. And while I’m pissed at my mother, she can never find out how I made ends meet during my first two years of college. Which means I need to figure out how to make twenty grand and fast before Amber runs her mouth.

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