Page 14 of Twisted Games of Revenge

“Wait, go back, what did they just say?” I ask Malachi to rewind the recording.

“I’ll make it slower and louder.” He adjusts something on his computer and plays it again.

“Police have pronounced Harley dead,” comes Alessandro’s voice. “According to the police report the commissioner has forwarded to Enzo, Harley died last week when the car she was in blew up in the back parking lot of a local restaurant.”

Doors slam, and the recording cuts off.

I stare at Malachi, not sure what to say. This is what I wanted, wasn’t it? But then I’m not sure how they can think I’m deadwhen nobody was in the car when I left it. Alessandro’s voice was so monotone as he talked about me being dead that something feels off about it, like they don’t believe it themselves. “They think I’m dead.”

“Looks that way.”

I let that thought sink in a little. “I really am free.” While the idea of been able to slip into Enzo’s life unnoticed is exciting, I know this is going to hurt the people I care about as well. That thought makes me feel sick to my stomach. What will Marco think? But the truth is, I’m doing this for him, and right now, I need him to think I’m out of the picture. It’s safer for him.

As promised, Sloane organized for a few of the girls to join me at the casino tonight, making it look like we are out on the town for girls’ night. She lent me a red velvet dress and heeled boots with little zippers down the side, and sent me off with Myriah and a couple of other girls from the club with the instructions to come home safe.

We stand in the main games room, Myriah’s arm linked with mine as we watch some of the big players at the craps tables. Sally and two of the other girls I have met this week are also here, gathering us fresh cocktails from the bar. I feel like they have accepted me into their group instantly, and I already feel like I know them. But no one is trusted with why I’m really here tonight except for Sloane.

Across the room, an older gentleman in a suit catches my eye, a smug smile playing on his lips as he racks up win after win. He motions for the dealer to stop his game then approaches me. “Beautiful, what’s your name?” he asks, all charm.

“Vivian,” I tell him with a shy smile.

“Sit by my side for some extra luck tonight,” he asks, the scent of his cologne a heady mix of sandalwood and cigars.

Myriah laughs, dropping her mouth to my ear. “Go on, that dude is Sebastian Huxley. He’s a billionaire who tips very generously when he wins.”

I can’t help but smile as I take his outstretched hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. I guess it can’t hurt to blend in and look like I’m actually here to have some fun.

Moving over to the table with him, he shows me a set of red dice. “Kiss them for luck, will you, sweetheart.”

I do as he asks, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. He rolls them across the felt table, their clicking echoing through the room. A collective gasp followed by a roar of applause fills the air as he rolls a seven. He grins back at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief, like it’s my lucky day. He wins again and again, the rolls piling up in his favor. Excitement swims within me. I have never gambled before and winning sure is fun.

The excitement draws a bustling crowd around us, and it’s not long before even Valentina Moretti’s attention is piqued. Out of my periphery, I see her glide across the room in a silver gown that sparkles under the lights.

The phone of the dude I’m playing with rings, and a look of surprise flashes across his face as he sees who’s calling and picks up the phone immediately. “Yes, absolutely,” is all I make out. Then he disconnects the call and turns back to me. “That might be me done for the night, sweetheart.” He takes my hand in his and presses his lips to the back of my fingers. “Thank you for an entertaining night, Vivian.” He passes me a handful of light blue chips and goes on his way.

I stare at the back of him in shock. How much money did he just give me? I slip the chips into my handbag for later and stand to return to my friends who have now found a table not too far away with their cocktails.

As I walk toward them, Valentina approaches me with a cunning smile on her red lips. “Haven’t seen you in Sinners’ Paradise before,” she comments, and I stop before her.

With all my effort, I flash the most beautiful smile I can summon. “I’m new in town, just moved here last week. Some of the girls from my new job invited me for a night out.” I test out my story, motioning toward them. Myriah offers a wave, her eyes asking me if I’m alright. I give her a wave in return.

Valentina runs her eyes over me, and I pray to anyone who listens that my disguise will be enough. “You’re working for the Strykers?” I should have known she would be watching everything that happens on the floor. I’m sure Enzo is as well. I glance up to the mezzanine level where the viewing box the boys took me to is, but I can’t tell if he’s in there or not, the glass must be heavily tinted. I have to wonder if my new wealthy friend took off so quickly because Valentina had her beady eyes on me and either she or Enzo made the call.

I tilt my head to the side, playing dumb. “Yeah, how did you know? I just picked a up a job at The Raven’s Nest.”

“Good for you, sweetie.” Her voice drips with the kind of pity that comes from someone who never had to work a real day in her life. This bitch is judging me and my friends while she struts around here in a gown that could probably pay all our rents for a month.

I shrug off her snippy attitude, unbothered by her attempt to get a rise out of me. “I don’t plan on staying there forever, it’s not any little girl’s dream to work in a bar when they grow up, but it’s a way to pay the bills until I can make my dream work. You know.”

A cold, hard glint emanates from her eyes, promising something sinister. “I could see you were an ambitious girl. What’s this big dream you have?”

“I’m an artist. One day I hope to have my own gallery or at least a studio where I can sell my paintings from.” My heart hurts a little using my ma’s backstory to get her attention. But I can’t sing for shit or act, and I know from my research they have a type of girl they pick tohelpthem, and if I want in, I need a talent. I got more off my ma than my looks, I also share her artistic abilities. Luckily.

Her grin widens, revealing a flash of super straight white teeth. “That’s a nice dream.”

“Thanks.” I smile, tucking a strand of my platinum blonde wig behind my ear.

“One I shared when I was your age.” She studies me again, thinking for a moment before holding her hand out toward me. “How rude of me, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Valentina Moretti.” The fancy diamond necklace she’s wearing gleams under the lights almost as much as her cunning eyes.

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