Page 3 of Ruined

“Watch your tone, Luca. I don’t have to answer your questions.”

My fists itched to punch his stupid face. “Then I’m leaving.”

“Sit down. I’m not done with you yet.”

I threw myself in a chair. “What could you possibly need that couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”

“It couldn’t wait.”

“Really? On the night I asked you not to bother me?”

He shrugged. “I can’t shift my schedule because of your personal life.”

“I left work two hours ago?—”

“And?You are on call. Don’t waste my time with your whining.”

“All you do is waste my fucking time.” I gestured at the paper bag. “You could’ve ordered your dinner.”

“Why use an app when I have you?”

If I could have gotten away with it, I’d have had him on his knees for once. I’d have loved to shove my Glock in his mouth and teachhima lesson. He thought he was untouchable.

And he was. Dominic was the manager of the Emerald Bay Casino. He handled the money, smoothed over problems with clients, and kept the dealers in line.

Dominic never let me close enough to see the full picture. He kept me at the edges, hovering just outside the real decisions. I was the errand boy—bringing him dinner, dropping off packages, delivering messages. Sometimes, “messages” involved me holding a gun or making a man beg for his life. I didn’t mind the violence. It was what I’d been trained for. What pissed me off was the exclusion.

I was a Costa, for fuck’s sake. I deserved more than scraps.

“I’m not a damn toy for you to play with.”

“Lower your voice when you speak to me.”

“One day, Dominic, someone will put a bullet between your eyes. Then we’ll see if you choke on the food or your own blood first.”

Dominic said nothing. He pushed the food aside and unholstered the gun from his belt. He held it out, aiming for my head. If he expected me to flinch, he had the wrong bastard. Not a day went by someone hadn’t threatened my life. The barrel of a gun was more familiar than a hug, though I never had areal family around to be so kind. Still, I didn’t trust Dominic’s narrowed eyes. Sweat prickled my neck as he lowered the gun to the table and spun it, offering me the handle.

“Go on,” he said. “Take your shot.”

I knew better than to move. Even a snort would’ve buried the bullet in my brain. Maybe not tonight, but it’d punish me later. I kept my eyes forward.

Dominic walked around the desk. My pulse raced as he loomed over me. His scent, spicy and masculine, swirled in my nose.

Dominic grabbed the front of my chair. I scowled, hating his strong jawline and the dimples popping on his cheek. How my defiance seemed to give him pleasure.

Sick fuck. “What are you looking at?”

He sneered. “At a man who’s got more fight in him than sense.”

“Because you are up my ass every five minutes with some bullshit demand!”

“You could’ve stayed with her,” he purred. “But here you are, right where I wanted you.”

I froze. Was he fucking with me, or did he mean it? The oneperkof the Costas?Progressivism. A man with Dominic’s inclinations would’ve been beaten and tossed in the bottom of a river by the Bratva. The Italians, good Roman Catholics that they were, didn’t seem to care. Dominic made them money, and that was the business they minded.

“Back off with that shit,” I said.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

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