Page 16 of Convenient Mafia Vows

Where the Wraith is sleek and black and sexy, the Titan was designed with Hollywood glamor in mind. The fifty-story hotel was constructed with specially created blocks that provide a golden sheen even when the sun is hiding, the rooftop sign is the largest in the entire country. Cash’s brief for the architects was bold and brash, and they delivered.

When my driver pulls up outside the entrance, it’s easy to pick out the folks visiting the Titan for the first time. They generally have their heads tilted toward the sky, phones raised to capture the golden building in all its morning glory.

Terry, my stepfather, is waiting for me at the entrance. Now in his early sixties, he still wears his trademark outfit of black tailored suit and black jersey sweater and could easily pass for a man fifteen years his junior. He’s a formidable figure, and he knows it.

He could’ve handed over the reins to the empire he built from scratch to his stepsons, walked away, and lived out his days on one long sunny vacation with my mom, but pride in what we’ve all achieved, and an ingrained mistrust of anyone who isn’t family, keeps him rocking up every day as Head of Security. He tours all three resorts based in and around the city, making sure that his team are well-dressed, well-mannered, and well-armed. He spots a smudge on a suit lapel, and the guilty party is sent away with a final warning not to let him down again or suffer the consequences. To date, I’ve never known anyone receive a second warning from Terry … and live to tell the tale.

He greets me with a nod. “She’s in the exec casino. We’ve cleared the area.”

I can’t help smiling. Terry knows how long we’ve been waiting to form an alliance with the Dragonettis, but he won’t take any crap from anyone, not on his turf.

He walks with me, and I’m the one matching his stride. He could walk through this building with his eyes shut and probably still recall every punter at every table. The main floor, a glitzy, gaudy area with blood-red carpets and the obligatory gold accessories, that still manages to pull off looking classy, is filled with people who have no doubt been seated around the same tables all night. They’re oblivious to the drama unfolding in the executive area. Drama prevents them from spending money, and we’re not in business for the sheer fun of it.

When I enter, Olivia looks up from the roulette table with wide eyes that say I-knew-you’d-come. Her ‘entourage’ as Cash put it, stands and surrounds her, giving her the appearance of a queen and her army.

Terry waits outside. He’ll step in if required, but he understands that I want to deal with this discreetly.

“Caleb.” Olivia pouts glossed bottom lip rolling out in her best Shirley Temple expression. “Why so serious?”

I make eye contact with the men in dark suits and black turtleneck shirts as I approach the table; I’m surprised they didn’t complete the ensemble with reflective wraparound Ray-Bans. They might be employed by Don Dragonetti, but they won’t aim first and risk bringing the wrath of the old Don down on their heads. No matter what Olivia believes.

“Why are you here, Olivia?”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows lower and her eyes darken. When we dated, it only ever took a mistimed comment or a glance atanother woman for the transformation from angel to demon to take place. Because of the Dragonetti name, I overlooked it to begin with, telling myself that I was imagining it, that all Olivia needed was attention to keep her emotionally stable.

I was wrong.

“No law against chancing my luck on the roulette table, is there?”

“None whatsoever.” I keep my voice level. “So long as you have the funds to begin with.”

Her glossy crimson lips stretch into a dazzling smile. I’ve seen her use it in the past to get what she wants because it always worked on Daddy. “Caleb, you know I’m good for the money.” Her voice drips honey.

I reciprocate the smile. “So, why did you demand 100k markers on my account, Olivia?”

The smile stretches into something no longer pleasant, something altogether more sinister, before she tips her head back and laughs. “What’s 100k between lovers, huh?”

“We’re not lovers. I’m married. I told you this last night, Olivia.”

Olivia sashays towards me, her silk pants swishing between her legs and the matching jacket revealing that she’s wearing nothing underneath. On anyone else, it would look sexy, the swell of her breasts between the white lapels, but on Olivia, it’s an instant red flag—she does nothing unless it benefits Olivia Dragonetti in some way.

When she’s standing in front of me, she traces my jawline with a scarlet fingernail decorated with tiny diamantes. “And I told youthat I don’t believe you.” Our mouths are so close that she pokes out her tongue and licks my lips.

I take her hands and hold her at arm’s length. The honey vanishes, replaced by narrowed eyes filled with venom. “You’d better get used to the idea, Olivia. I’m in love with Victoria, and this—” I gesture to the men standing behind her “—isn’t going to change anything. It’s time to move on.”

“I’m not giving you up without a fight, Caleb!” Her voice becomes shrill, and she raises a hand to slap my face.

But Terry is there before her palm can connect with my cheek. “Okay, fun time is over. Time to leave.”

He escorts her towards the door, Olivia yelling at him, “Get your fucking hands off me. Wait till my father hears about this.”

“Enough, Olivia.” I flank her on the other side, while Terry keeps right on moving as if he never even heard the threat.

“Caleb, please,” she whines, switching on a pin. “Don’t do this. Can we talk about it somewhere private?”

“There’s nothing left to say, Olivia.”

She struggles to free herself from Terry’s iron grip, with no success. “You’ll fucking regret this, Caleb. My father will never forgive you for this…”

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