Page 28 of Tainted Princess
“You can move things around to make space if you need,” I said, feeling all kinds of awkward in my own fuckin’ home. “There are a couple drawers in the bathroom, too, for whatever you want.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. We stared at each other for a second longer, neither of us sure what to say about this whole thing. Then Francesca blinked, turning her head to stare at the bed, knowing as well as I did that it was the only one in the place.
Our second day married, and we hadn’t even spent a single moment under the sheets together.
Yeah, this was fucked.
Taking a step toward the bedroom door, I ran my hand through my hair, suddenly needing a drink, regardless of the fact that it was not even close to noon yet.
“So,” I said, drawing the word out as I searched for something to say, “I’m gonna have to go into the office for a bit. I’ve, you know, been away.”
“Of course.”
Just that. No questions. No demands.
Just her pleasant mask and her polite words.
Who was this woman?
“Make yourself at home,” I added lamely. Thiswasher home now, too, and that was weirding me out.
Turning on my heel, I retraced my steps and headed for the door, not looking back as I hit the button for the elevator in the hall.
By the time I reached the parking garage, my thoughts were scattered, spinning around in my brain like the wheels of a slot machine. Striding past my gunmetal gray McLaren GT and heading straight to my sleek matte black Ducati Streetfighter, I climbed on, reaching into the locked cabinet behind my parking space and retrieving the leather jacket and helmet I kept there. The engine roared to life, the sweet, high sound filling the silent garage and making my teeth rattle with its power. Twisting the throttle a few times, I kicked the bike into gear and took off, slamming the tinted visor down against the harsh desert sun as I hit the street.
There was nothing more soothing than a fast ride, and with over two hundred horsepower, my Ducati was just the thing to help me clear my head. I was out of the city as fast as I could manage, hitting one of the old secondary highways and heading east, letting the drab brown landscape wash away the chaos of my thoughts.
In theory, the whole thing was so simple. Marry the girl, get Made, the end.
The reality, however, was so much different.
I knew absolutely nothing about Francesca. What she liked, what she didn’t, how she took her coffee, if she snored, nothing. And now she was living in my apartment, and I didn’t know what to do with that. What the hell was she gonna do here in Las Vegas? She had no friends, no job—shit, I didn’t even know if she’d ever evenhada job—and no family for thousands of miles. I had no idea if she was even close with anyone in New York, seeing as how the Organization had basically thrown her to the wolves. Not sure I’d call them family if that was my situation, but who knew what Francesca was thinking.
You could ask her, you idiot.
Shit. Like I’d be any good at that.
No, I think Francesca had the best idea. I’d stay out of her way, and she could stay out of mine.
Simple.
The empty highway ahead of me called my name, and I kicked the throttle higher, the afternoon sun beating down on my back as I headed away from my problems at a blissfully insane one hundred and sixty miles an hour. My wheels ate up the asphalt, and as the day wore on and the hours flew by, I knew that I was making the right decision.
By the time I reached the turnaround at the Redstone Trailhead, I was feeling a whole lot better about my current marital status. Pointing my bike into the now setting sun, I headed back toward the city at a much more reasonable speed.
It was Sunday night, and that meant I’d find Rocco atSin City, my largest and most profitable establishment. Right in the heart of the Strip,Sin Citywas, in actuality, three clubs in one. Three floors of Las Vegas decadence, a place to indulge in all my favorite sins.
The first floor,Lust, was a typical night club, with several bars and a dance floor that didn’t stop. Anyone could access that level as long as they were of age and paid the cover charge. On any given night, there were hundreds of beautiful people, dancing and drinking, grinding against each other as they partied the night away. It was hot and sweaty, and it made me a fuckload of money.
The second floor,Pride, was more exclusive, with higher end drinks, a more subdued atmosphere, and a guest list that required you knew someone who knew someone to get your name on it. Designer clothes and designer drugs were the name of the game, and there was never a dull moment.
But the third floor was where the real money was made atSin City.
More like a prohibition era speakeasy than a night club,Greed, was an invitation only experience for those with more money than sense. Home to several no limits card tables, as well as any other kind of betting you could imagine,Greedwas the crown jewel in my little empire. Pretentious rich assholes came from all across the world for a chance to win big against their peers, and I was happy to play host as they threw their money away.
Parking in the back lot, I entered the club through the back door, Monty, the door man letting me in with a nod. I could feel the bass pounding as I headed to the back office, knowing that’s where Rock would be at this time of day.
I was not at all surprised to find him at his desk, dick out, with a woman on her knees in front of him, going to town. He gave me a chin lift as I entered the room, but never took his hand off the back of the blonde’s skull, keeping her moving at the pace he preferred.
