Page 75 of Gamble with Me
"What's going on?" I lifted a brow, hiding my phone in my pants pocket.
"I checked the hierarchy in the Italian group as you instructed me, and you were right," he replied. "I don't have proof yet, but everything points at them working together against us."
"That's a breakthrough," I said, chewing my bottom lip. This information slightly changed the course of action but made the situation more manageable. "It gives me ammunition before the meeting with Gravaldis."
"What ammunition?" Dorian asked, perplexed, but I only smiled and entered the elevator.
"Schedule the meeting, brother," I ordered, smirking. "Today is retaliation day."
Valeria
Ilay in bed with my eyes wide open, unable to think, sleep, or even move. My alarm clock went wild at seven am, but I didn't have the strength to turn it off.
The apartment was empty. Chester hadn’t returned home, and Zara spent the night at her grandmother's house. No one objected to the crazy device that could surely wake up a dead person with its loud ringing, so I let it be and continued to stare at the ceiling.
The horrible event of the previous day was on repeat in my head, entangled with a wonderful memory with Zefarin. His actions made my body shiver with delight, yet it was his words that melted my heart and resilience to end things between us.
It was sick and twisted to keep hope for our relationship, but I couldn't help it. He was the darkness that lit my path, the demon that led me to heaven. How could I stop this madness when all I wished for was to be consumed by it?
Slamming my hand against the alarm clock, I got up and looked around the bedroom. Everything was where I left it; my clothes were thrown over the armchair, the cosmetic table was covered with my makeup and jewelry, and my books were spread on every available surface. But this place stopped feeling like home a long time ago. It was a cage, and I was trapped like a princess in my stories, guarded by a monstrous beast.
Could Zefarin be my prince? Could he save me before I lost myself in this hell hole?
I never truly realized how much I hated this place until I left it. It was the most freeing feeling to live by my rules without a husband who controlled my every move. Chester was always like this. It wasn't like he changed into a monster overnight, but I refused to see it. Yet when I opened my eyes and noticed all the red flags and abusive behavior, I didn't want to spend another day with him.
But was the murderer and stalker a better choice?
Hiding my face behind my palms, I exhaled deeply. My body was depleted of energy from the constant fight between my heart that fell for the criminal and my common sense, which held all the aces.
I knew Zefarin wasn't a saint. I understood it could be my end if I continued this relationship with him. I just couldn't imagine not seeing him again, not feeling his glorious arms around me, or experiencing his heated kisses.
He was my drug, and I was utterly addicted. Nothing reasonable could change it. I was in love with him.
Taking my phone from the nightstand, I texted Alice. I desperately needed to talk to someone I trusted, and she was like a sister to me. Her absence for the past couple of weeks made me feel alone, which may be why I became so attached to Zefarin. Perhaps he wouldn't have gotten under my skin so easily if I had spent more time with her.
Alice instantly replied that she could meet me around four pm, and I sighed heavily. I couldn't imagine what to do with all my free time and erratic thoughts. I had to do something to keep my mind occupied, and my eyes landed on the cream-colored dress I'd prepared for work before Zefarin halted my plans.
Without thinking twice, I took a shower, put on makeup, and dressed. I combed my hair and let it fall freely on my back.
Satisfied with how I looked, I grabbed my purse and car keys, left the empty, cold place I once called home, and headed to work. No one would expect me there so early in the morning, but I didn't mind the surprised glances. I couldn't stay in the apartment where I felt imprisoned. I had to be in contact with the free world. Maybe it would give me the courage to leave Chester again.
The idea stayed with me while I drove the expensive car through the busy streets of New York. It didn't disappear when I parked it before the closed restaurant or when I walked inside the casino through the back entrance. It was with me when I opened the door into the tiny room behind the cash desk that served as my office, and it lingered in the air until I acknowledged that it was what I craved the most—my freedom. I wanted to be free, and it could never happen with Chester holding me prisoner in a loveless marriage.
But I knew the path to freedom could be bumpy. Chester was a powerful enemy, ready to use all the dirt just to paint me as a mentally unstable woman. I wanted to leave him, yet I understood it couldn't happen right away. His threats were on constant repeat in my head. They were the biggest reason I stayed with him.
Still, I believed the way to escape his claws existed. I just had to find it.
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Valeria
My eyes traced the numbers on the paper, making me frown. The end of the month was close, and I had to review the paperwork before having it signed by the boss, but the amounts didn't match. There was a weird movement of cash between the vault and the slot machines, and I couldn't find the source of two million dollars. It felt like it appeared out of nowhere.
Scowling at it, I wanted to call the accountants, but my hand stopped mid-air in front of my ear, holding the phone. I completely forgot who I was working for, but it took me only a moment to realize the facts.
Zyon laundered money through the casino, which was the only explanation for an excessive amount of cash appearing on the vault shelves. He needed to clean it, and my search of the reports from previous months only confirmed this.
My experienced eye caught the irregularities even though I never worked as an accountant. When Chester still worked as a trader on Wall Street, he taught me some tricks. He showed me where to look, and since then, I couldn't unsee the anomalies. He called me a doll because he deemed me pretty but considered me stupid. He had no idea I was more intelligent than he could ever imagine and that I remembered many things he told me in unguarded moments.
