Page 52 of Diamonds & Deception

“Proof?”

“They suspect Eddie’s been coming in to play high as a kite. The fuckhead is so addicted it’s hard to tell when he’s high and when he’s just his usual fuck up self.”

“Was Micky with him?” Eddie’s father is one of the few evil, old-school Irish mobsters left in Boston. He’s holding on to his roots until the day he dies. Micky doesn’t give a shit about anyone but his legacy, and he’s been trying to breed Eddie to take over.

Eddie’s all about stepping into his father’s shoes, but he’s a loose cannon. His drug addiction, temper, and narcissism are more dangerous than his father’s. They make him unpredictable.

“Not the other night. Micky doesn’t deal drugs, but he has no problem looking the other way while his shit-for-brains son does.”

I made it clear to the Donahue family that they’re all welcome at Four Aces, but drugs, weapons, and violence are not. The guys make fun of me for beingSwitzerland, but we all agree we want the casino to be a safe, neutral territory. The Donahues are powerful in the city and can bring in a lot of revenue for us. And they’re not all bad. Martin and Owen walk the right side of the law. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been willing to help them brainstorm numbers and investment strategies for their businesses.

Some of the money they used may have been dirty, inherited money, but they’ve been walking the straight and narrow since Martin’s wife died over a decade ago.

“When’s Eddie’s next scheduled game?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Send him a message that I want to meet with him before it starts.”

“You want me there too?”

I shake my head. “No. You’re too intimidating. I don’t want him to be on the defensive.”

“You can be pretty damn intimidating as well when your balls are up against the wall.” Nolan stands and taps my desk. “I’m here if you need me. For anything.” He closes the door quietly behind him.

I think back to last night and how I treated Nora, like a whore who enjoyed being abused. I had to do it though. It was the only way to get the truth out of her.

No, that’s not entirely true. I spin in my chair and gaze out the window. I could have sat her down and had a conversation with her. Told her I found out about her fake identity.

But I was hurt. The betrayal ripped through my heart, and I wanted to lash back. I never got my retribution with Kelsey, not that I felt like I needed any kind of revenge. I don’t have bottled up hate for her. Hurt? Yes.

I’m embarrassed and ashamed I fell for someone like her. I’m hurt. Shattered. It was purely intentional. Premeditated. My feelings for her developed so fast, so strong, and I thought they were reciprocated. The pain of her being cut out of my life is more intense than having a limb torn off.

I suppose it’s the same. There’s nothing more painful than having your heart ripped out of your chest. Maybe I’m being melodramatic. I’ve known the woman—or who I thought she was—for only a few weeks. Not long enough to feel so attached. Not long enough for her to own my heart or my head.

Between my already full schedule and squeezing in meetings from yesterday, my day is overbooked, which gives me less time to wallow in my self-pity. I’m not the first guy to fall victim to a pretend relationship.

My day is stressful, I’m more on edge than usual, but my management team is solid, and they’re doing an excellent job running a tight ship. I’ve talked Frank off his ledge, run a few more reports for Martin and Owen Donahue, and don’t even snap when Ryder offers to be a shoulder to cry on.

When he read my glare, he changed tactics and offered to hook me up with Molly. I shot more daggers his way, then he laughed and blew me a kiss.

“Molly’s been wet for you since she started playing the slots six months ago on her seventy-fifth birthday.”

I shook my head at Ryder and ignored him, focusing on my computer screen. Molly looks like an adorable Betty White grandmother, but she’s got some serious grabby hands. We’ve all fallen victim to them from time to time.

It’s ten o’clock before I head back up to my penthouse. Not a late night for a typical Thursday, but since I’m running on two hours’ sleep and have been in my office since six this morning, I need to try to get some rest, or I’ll be no good all weekend. We have high-flyers coming in, and Kelsey’s fundraiser gala Sunday.

Rest doesn’t come easily, not even with the help of a few highballs of bourbon. Friday isn’t as stressful, but I’m still booked. I’m thankful for the lack of reprieve in my schedule. All it takes is a quick bathroom break and my mind wanders to Nora.

I wonder what she’s doing. If she’s remorseful for using me. If any of her words or actions were remotely genuine.

I think about her losing her sister, Carly. I’m sure the pain of grief is intense, but that’s no reason to set me up. To lie to me.

It’s six o’clock and Nancy knocks on my door before coming in. “Mr. Reynolds, Mr. Donahue is here. Shall I send him in, or would you like to wait a few minutes?”

She knows me well and is fully aware of how much we all despise Micky and Eddie Donahue. Making him wait will piss him off, which she doesn’t mind doing for me.

“Give me two minutes to send this email, then you can send him in.”

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