Page 18 of Devil of Vegas

Isla’s chestnut hair falls in thick curls against her bare shoulders, the tips of it just touching the top of her black, sequined cocktail dress that hugs her slender curves like a glove. Her svelte, dancer’s figure and long legs peek out from the dress that barely reaches to cover the top of her thighs. How she balances on her high heels makes it look easy as she walks toward me with effortless grace. Once I considered destroying this exquisite creature, but now I only want to worship her, as if she is the goddess who has finally been able to match me. A new need rises within me—I don’t simply want to keep Isla; I want topossessher.

“You look very nice,” I say when I collect myself. It’s a drastic understatement, but I’m not going to allow her to see my desire, even if I have to make a conscious effort to keep it from visibly presenting itself, as it now threatens to do with the tightening of my pants.

“Thank you,” Isla smiles. There is such an unspoken beauty about her, it’s nearly breathtaking.

I hold out my arm for her to take as Junior opens the door for us. When we step onto the elevator, I lean closer to whisper in her ear.

“Remember, my little ballerina, tonight you belong tome.”

“How could I forget?” she says almost teasingly. Her light brown eyes sparkle as she looks up at me, and I am instantly enthralled by her willingness to play along with this charade tonight. Obviously, she doesn’t have much of a choice, but how she’s handling it seems convincinglywilling.

The elevator reveals the casino’s main floor, a glittering, crowded scene. Tonight is a private event. This event is exclusive; only my invited guests are present. It’s hard not to notice how all eyes turn to stare at us as we step off the elevator. Normally, I would attribute that reaction to one of fear and respect—an acknowledgment from my guests that they revere my reputation as a brutal mafia boss. But tonight, I think they are staring atIsla. Her beauty commands the room in a way that my power doesn’t. It’s a sort of awe and appreciation that rivals the power of fear and loyalty that I normally elicit.

I feel her hand tighten around my arm as we walk into the crowd of waiting guests, and I glance over at her in surprise. Quickly, she loosens her grip again as if it were an involuntary reaction of nerves, not unlike stage fright. She’s fast to correct herself and not show me any weakness, and it makes me think that I’ve vastly misjudged Isla. She’s not just a fragile ballerina; she’s strength and subtle power cloaked in innocence.

I mingle with my guests, solidifying new business deals and arrangements with a single nod and handshake. I keep Isla on my arm beside me the entire time. Mostly, all she does is smile and nod, which is what I expect her to do. But when Alonzo walks toward us with his daughter in tow, I can feel Isla bristle.

“Hello, Isla,” Sera greets her with a tight smile. “I haven’t seen you at the studio in a while. How have you been?”

Sera’s tone is almost as sharp as her pointed nose and high cheekbones. The bun on the back of her head looks like it’s so tight that it’s pulling the skin on her face upward. She’s pretty, but has the jagged, harsh features of her father.

Alonzo laughs and gives his daughter a warning pat on the side of her arm. “You know where she’s been, Serena. Don’t cause trouble, you twat.”

He won’t be winning “father of the year” anytime soon. Alonzo is a lethally effective underboss, but he isn’t what I’d call agoodman. He keeps his daughter on a short leash. His mafia status grants Sera the privileges of wealth and access, but it limits her freedom. Much like I’ve limited Isla.

“Fine,” Isla responds curtly. It’s clear that she recognizes Sera and doesn’t think much of her. I’m betting on there being a dance rivalry buried beneath their posturing. Like her father, Serena’s ambition may exceed her best interests, coupled with insecurity. She eyes the place where Isla holds onto my arm, and a look of bitter envy sweeps across her face.

“Hello Vincent,” Sera smiles as she turns her attention toward me. “Thank you so much for inviting me here tonight. I always look forward to a chance to see you.”

She reaches out her hand for me to take, wanting me to plant a small, customary kiss on the top of her knuckles. When I do, she leans in closer to showcase the cleavage of her dress.

“Alright, Sera,” Alonzo says as he pulls his daughter back alongside him. “Mr. Moretti has more important guests to attend to.”

He glances between his daughter and Isla on my arm. They’re clearly young, and roughly the same age. If I’m not mistaken, Alonzo isn’t entirely approving of how I look at Isla.I couldn’t care less.

“Madame Durant is waiting to speak to you at the roulette table,” Alonzo says, glancing across the room at her. “She’s been waiting there since the start of the gala.”

With Isla still on my arm, we walk toward the ballet mistress. I can practically feel Isla’s heartbeat quicken and her step lighten as we get closer to her instructor. When we get to the game table, she abruptly lets go of my arm and flings herself into Celeste’s arms. The old woman wraps her in a hug and strokes the back of her hair. I briefly considered recalling Isla, then changed my mind. I let them have this moment before interrupting.

“Good to see you, Celeste,” I say as I hold out my hand toward her.

She lets go of Isla and gives me her hand, even as she grimaces doing it. When I extend the same courteous kiss atop her fingers that I did with Sera, Celeste Durant gives me an entirely different reaction of disgust.

“How long are you going to keep my dancer?” she says in a low voice. “She’s missing rehearsals, you know.”

Her voice is unwavering, but her eyes tell an entirely different story. Madame Durant isn’t concerned with missed rehearsals; she’s concerned with Isla’s safety. She wants her out of my clutches and back where she can safely watch over her.

For a moment, she hesitates. Both women are aware they don’t hold any power here, and neither desires the other to suffer because of me.

“Actually, Madame,” Isla says. “If it’s okay, I think I’d like to stay here for a while longer. Vincent has allowed me to keep up with my training during my absence from the studio.”

Celeste gives me a soft glare as the tension between the three of us builds. I remind her of her role. “The Madame and I also have a fewarrangements,” I say. “I’m sure she wouldn’t take issue with you extending your time here with me. Would you, Celeste?”

She clears her throat before answering and turning back toward her dancer. “Of course not. We will all be awaiting your return to the troupe, Isla, and I look forward to having you back as soon as you are ready.”

I pull away after watching the women’s sad smiles. I don’t want either of them getting any ideas.

“I can’t believe she fell for that,” Isla says with a delicate frown as we walk back through the crowd. “I can’t believe that she thought I would actually want to stay here instead of returning to the studio.”

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