Page 3 of 4 Weddings and a Feud

Alone in his office, Alex grinned. “I’m always focused. I’ll keep it professional.” Just like the Rissos had kept it professional when they’d bought the hotel at a fire-sale price after the feds seized the Villa family’s assets. He’d never thought the Rissos would sell, so he’d never dared think about what he’d do if he had the opportunity to buy his father’s old hotel and casino. Turning the Paradise into La Villa II—no, La VillaPrime—a world-class resort, would prove to everyone he’d risen like a phoenix.

No, he’d go a step further. He’d demolish the Paradise. Wipe that dump from everyone’s memory, and maybe they’d forget the humiliation his father had brought on their family, too. He’d build something truly ostentatious in its place. A neon-encrusted skyscraper would be an appropriate middle finger to everyone who’d doubted him.

“Anything else, boss?” Lev asked after they’d worked out their bidding strategy.

Alex’s euphoria waned as he remembered why he’d called Lev in the first place. “Yeah. I need you to find a job for Dante Campo.”

“Again?”

“He’s a good worker from a good family.”

“One of those statements is true,” Lev said dryly.

The Campos were a good family, but they’d fallen for his father’s swindle and lost more than money. Mr. Campo died from an aneurysm a few days after Alex’s father had been arrested, leaving Mrs. Campo to care for her two young sons. Alex would be making up for it until the day they carried him feet first out of his casino.

Though the older son wasn’t making it easy. “We just haven’t found the right job for Dante yet,” he said.

“What went wrong with the restaurant?”

“He set the kitchen on fire. A small fire, but my executive chef threatened to quit if I didn’t get him out of there. Maybe he’d be good at clerical work at your office. Less risk of fire.”

“That kid will find a way,” Lev grumbled.

“He’s promised to be on his best behavior. You’ll find him something?”

“Yeah, yeah. Send him over.”

“Thanks.” Alex breathed out a sigh. He’d kept Donna Campo’s boys employed since they were sixteen. Joey, who worked in his event planning department, was a good worker. Dante had always proved more of a challenge. Still, helping him was the least he could do for the family that had lost everything because of his father.

He disconnected the call and set down his phone. Propping his hands on his hips, he surveyed his desk. It was clear of clutter and papers as usual, though work always waited on his laptop. He should review the operations report, but he had too much adrenaline coursing through him to sit still. He needed to move.

Mentally flipping through the day’s activities at the hotel, he found a target for his energy: the wedding expo downstairs. Evie, his head event planner, should have it under control. But at the winter expo, she’d pulled in only eighty percent of the new business he’d been expecting. Six months later, he’d ensure that she was implementing the new tactics they’d discussed.

Going to the door, he pulled his suit jacket from its hanger and shrugged into it. He buttoned it then, glancing in the mirror, smoothed it over his flat stomach and straightened his shirt collar. When all was in place, he opened the door, told his assistant where he was going, and rode down the elevator to the mezzanine.

Only Alex and Lev, who’d seen it in its shabbier days, would have recognized the mezzanine as the top two floors of the budget motel he’d bought ten years ago. He’d hardly slept for a year, worrying over the amount he’d borrowed against his bar to turn the rundown place into a luxury casino and resort. Now, instead of cramped rooms and dim hallways, the mezzanine’s high frescoed ceilings soared over plush carpet, which was currently awash with frothy white tulle, the overpowering scent of roses, and the nervous titters of people about to drop thirty Gs on four hours of cheap champagne and a band that arrived in their mom’s Kia Carnival.

He pasted a smile on his face and strode in. But he didn’t go straight to his booth in the center of the room. He forced his feet to slow as he took a meandering circuit of the expo.

Brides stopped to flutter their false eyelashes at him. Most of them didn’t know who he was, but they liked his bespoke suit and wolfish grin. Vendors waved at him. La Villa hosted at least one wedding reception every weekend, and he’d worked with every major florist, caterer, and wedding chapel in Las Vegas.

“Alex!” The owner of the city’s premier Elvis impersonator agency clapped him on the shoulder. His name was Orville, but he didn’t let anyone call him that.

“Elvis! Looking good. I see you’re enjoying the peanut butter, banana, and bacon sandwiches.” Alex gestured at the stretched middle of his sequined jumpsuit.

Elvis leaned in closer. “You wouldn’t believe it, but I’ve had more requests for, let’s say, a more full-figured Elvis lately. People like a wedding officiant who seems more like your cool uncle than a sex object.”

“Cool, huh? More like eccentric.”

“Don’t forget flamboyant. Why get married in Vegas if you’re not all-in on the razzle-dazzle?”

“True.” Over-the-top glamor was what La Villa promised with its gilded statues and frescoed ceilings. Not to mention the casino dealers with their faux-leather corset tops, short shorts, and fishnets. And every weekend, glitzy events brought in a steady stream of cash.

He glanced at the hotel’s gold-and-white booth in the center of the room. Wait. Why weren’t there any potential customers in it? Brides should have been poring through the galleries of photos or at least taking the ribbon and organza-wrapped candies. Distractedly, he excused himself and hurried to the large, carpeted square in the center of the room where his event planner leaned against the gilded copy of Michaelangelo’sDavid—his little golden pecker had to be poking her in the back—staring at her phone.

“What are you doing?” he barked.

Evie bobbled her phone. “Don’t scare me like that! I’m checking on the Murray-Achebe cake.”

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