Page 11 of Her Cruel Empire
“Mr. Gatto,” I interrupt, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “You’re wasting my time. You don’t have the capital for this conversation.”
His face reddens. “Now hold on?—”
“Unless,” I say, and he halts immediately. I almost smile. He makes this too easy.
“Unless?” he prompts.
“Unless you’d be willing to make up the shortfall by doing me a favor.”
“Do a favor for a beautiful woman like you? Ma’am, I’d doanythingyou asked.” He gives a lascivious grin, which I let pass, although I could swear I hear Leon growl beside me.
Instead, I lay out my wishes. “I want you to expand your territory, Mr. Gatto. I want you to do whatever is necessary to take over Vegas from the Colombos.”
The Gattos may be beneath me, but they’re perfect for what I have in mind. If they’re willing to take on the Colombo Family directly, I’ll provide them with weapons at a substantial discount. Not the bargain-basement prices they originally wanted, but enough of a reduction to make this war profitable for them and ruinous for Brie. The Gattos can bloody themselves against the Colombos while I sit back and watch.
When the smoke clears, Brie will either be dead or desperate enough to pay my full price without question. And if the Gattos prove useful enough to survive, perhaps they’ll earn themselves a more permanent arrangement with the Consortium. Unlikely, but I suppose they can dream. And it’s elegant, really—using one Family’s ambition to crush another’s arrogance.
Gatto is only too eager to comply.
“Excellent,” I say, once we’ve come to terms. “My finance man, Markov, will send through the paperwork. And now we are done here.” I start to rise, but he leans forward, our new agreement making him bold.
“I have something else you might be interested in,” he says. “You strike me as a woman who enjoys…exclusive offerings. How about a sweetener on top—a way to say thanks for being so understanding?”
Every instinct I have screams danger, but curiosity is a weakness I’ve never quite conquered. “What kind of sweetener?”
Gatto’s smile widens. He gestures toward a side door draped in more of that hideous red velvet. “Come and see.”
The moment I step through those curtains, my skin crawls.
The room is filled with men lounging at small tables, conversations and laughter filling the room. The lighting is dim, theatrical, designed to hide shame in shadows.
At the other end is a small stage, bathed in light.
My stomach tightens as I realize what I’m seeing. A woman is led out like cattle, barefoot and trembling. Then another and another, each one wearing the same expression of hollow resignation. Each is dressed in a cocktail gown like this is some kind of beauty pageant.
But it’s not a pageant. Not at all.
I take a step back, but before I can turn on my heel, I see the last woman being pushed out on stage by someone in the wings.
Strawberry blonde hair catches the light like spun sugar. Blue eyes are wide with a terror she’s trying desperately to hide. Lips pressed together like she’s holding in a scream.
Her dress is cheap, too short, too tight over curves that would make a saint stare.
I go completely still. Don’t move. Don’t breathe.
It’s the woman at the bar from last night. The one who made me forget, for just a moment, that the world is full of disappointments.
What in the hell is she doing here? Is this some kind of setup?
One of the men in the room makes a loud joke about “breaking her in.”
Something snaps inside me.
I spin toward Gatto. “If you think I have an interest in human trafficking, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
He actually looks surprised, like I’ve just criticized his choice of appetizers. “Hey, now, don’t get it twisted. They sign contracts. They’re all consenting adults. It’s all legal?—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” I’m already pushing back through the red curtain, Leon keeping step with me. “There will be no deal.”
