Page 5 of Devil of Vegas

CHAPTER 2

VINCENT

“You know you can’t keep her here forever, don’t you?”

My cousin’s insight is unwanted. I love Luc like a brother, but sometimes he overshoots his role as my consigliere and crosses the line from advisor toequal, and that simply isn’t acceptable.

“Luciano,” I say, calling him by his full name to emphasize my point. “You’re my right-hand man, not my equal. Don’t forget your place.”

“Apologies, boss,” he says obediently. At least Luc’s loyalty is unwavering. “It’s just that I feel a responsibility as your advisor to tell you that having the dancer herecomplicatesthings.”

I stand at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the city below. Vegas is a fickle beast of a city in the morning. Even the city itself looks half hungover in the early light as the businesses on the strip slowly grind to a start. Las Vegas’ nighttime energy is unparalleled, however, its daytime shows less appealing aspects.

My casino empire comprises a good portion of things here, and my crown jewel is the casino right under my feet at the bottom of this massive building. It’s three floors of the most luxurious gambling imaginable, and two floors beneath that of illicitfamilyoperations.

“I know what I’m doing, Luc,” I say with a slight snarl. “I wouldn’t have become the youngest and most feared mafia don in Vegas if I didn’t. Don’t question me.”

He nods and walks away, knowing when he’s overstepped and exercising enough discipline to fall back in line quickly. Luc might be a couple of years older than me at thirty-eight, but in the mafia, beinglethaltrumps everything else.

After he goes, my mind wanders back to the lovely ballerina in the guest room down the hall. He’s not entirely wrong—keeping Isla in this penthouse isn’t a lasting solution. I can’t monitor her constantly; eventually, others, such as her dance instructor, will notice. But for now, she’s not going anywhere. Not until I figure out how to handle the mess that she inadvertently stumbled into. I would have immediately removed anyone else who had seen a kill. But something about her big, brown eyes that glinted with a golden tint even in the dim backstage lighting of the theatre gave me pause. Isla Hart caught me off guard, and before I could act,she ran.

Unfortunately, escape wasn’t an option, not even for her. I can’t leave any loose ends untied, not in my line of work.

Frustrated, I pushed my dark hair across my face, sighing. It was a moment of weakness to let her live, and Idetestweakness. Regardless, she’s here now and I’ll just have to deal with it until I come up with a better idea.

“You called for me, boss?” Marco De Rossi asks as the door opens, and he steps inside.

“Yes, I have a new assignment for you, Junior. How would you like to be assigned as a bodyguard to the ballerina I have justacquired?”

Junior is young, twenty-five at most, and not only is he a skilled soldier, but he’s also deeply loyal. He’s also still young enough that he hasn’t lost his moral compass yet, like most of the men in theCosa Nostra. He’s the perfect choice to keep Isla protected and contained.

“Yeah, boss, sure. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her.”

“Good. Isla requires constant supervision when I’m absent. She’s not to leave this penthouse under any circumstances. Treat her like a hostile witness, because she is one—one who must never reveal what she has seen.”

“You got it, sir,” he nods. “I’ll make sure she’s kept under wraps.”

I nod, and Junior takes his cue to leave. Now, there’s only one more thing that I need to do before attending to other pertinent business today. I need to lay down the house rules with Isla. I’m curious to find out if she’s still as fiery as she was during my previous visit to her room. Perhaps some time alone has given her a chance to rethink opposing me.

But as soon as I unlock the door to her room and step inside, I can see that she hasn’t simmered down at all.

“Hello again,” I say in a carefully measured tone. “Are you hungry?”

There’s a tray of untouched food sitting on the table in front of the window that my staff brought in for her. Clearly, she found it unappealing.

“No,” she says. “I’mrestlessand I want to leave this place.”

“Then you’ll be delighted to know that I’ve come to give you a tour of the penthouse.”

“That’snotwhat I meant,” Isla frowns. “Let me go.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but there’s no leaving for you. I’m certain that you already knowwhy.”

“I told you I won’t say anything,” she argues. But no amount of desperate pleading is going to gain her freedom. It’s a waste of her breath and ofmytime.

“Come,” I command as I motion toward the door. “Let me show you your new living arrangement.”

“I amnotliving here.” She crosses her arms over her chest and straightens her perfect posture to dig into her stance. She’s rebellious, that much is very clear. Even when her eyes betray how terrified she is, she still carries herself with dignity. That’s an admirable quality.

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