Page 34 of Bastard Prince
And that was it. There was no additional security, leaving him free to access any apartment he desired.
Unfortunately for him, he desired mine.
“I want a copy of this video and any others you have of him,” I said, not looking away from the face of the next man I was gonna kill. “Send it to this number,” I ordered, handing him my card.
“Of course, sir. Are you certain you don’t want the police involved?”
“Absolutely not. I’ll have someone come by and replace the lock. Until then, no one goes in or out of that apartment. Are you clear?”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”
Making our way back to the parking garage, Rocco stopped before getting back in his car. “Enzo,” he starated, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “what the hell is going on?”
I sighed, tilting my head back and staring at the low concrete ceiling. “I wish I fuckin’ knew, man.”
“This seems like a shitload of trouble for a wife, bro. That’s all I’m saying.” When I scowled at him, he held his hands up defensively. “Look, I like the woman. She’s smart and funny and she does not take your shit, which provides endless entertainment for me, that’s for sure.” He chuckled before getting serious again. “But you can’t deny that things have become royally fucked since she got to town. It can’t be a coincidence.”
Grinding my teeth together in irritation, I considered his words instead of lashing out in retaliation like I wanted to do. As much as I hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. There were too many little things to completely ignore his theory that, if not all, then at least some of our current drama was due to Francesca’s presence in my life.
This bullshit with Amber, for example.
But not all of it.
So, no, I couldn’t fault my best friend for voicing his thoughts, but I sure as fuck didn’t have to agree with him. Because the one thing Rocco wasn’t taking into account was that all the problems in the world wouldn’t make me walk away from Francesca Argenti—even if I was pissed as fuck at her at the moment.
Because, trouble or not, that woman wasmine, and I was never letting her go.
“I get it, Rock,” I said, my voice low, my words carefully chosen. “But even if she is the problem, even if we can lay all our troubles at her feet, it doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”
He stared at me, his eyes searching mine, before he nodded. “You’re all in, are ya?”
Not looking away, I nodded. “I sure as fuck am.”
“Well, then. Let’s find this Mario Brothers looking fuck and make sure he never goes through your wife’s underwear drawer again, yeah?”
We leftVeer Towersand headed straight toSin City, parking side by side in our designated spots. Monty was working the door again, and he greeted us with a nod. Rock went straight into the office, but I continued past—the pounding music letting me know that the place was good and packed—and made my way to the stairs at the back of the building. The staircase was blocked off with a velvet rope, one of my many bouncers standing guard to ensure no one enteredPridewithout their name on the list.
The second-floor club was more subdued, the music less Top Forty and more Deep House. With significantly less people on this floor,Pridewas a place to see or be seen. The cell phone cameras never stopped in this place, and our hashtag was one of the most popular trending topics on any given night. The number of celebrities and celebrity try-hards seated on the low couches would make anyone do a double take. It was usually one of my favorite places to mingle.
But tonight, I was headed even higher.
As I rounded the corner into a shadowed alcove, the bouncer at the door to the third floor seemed surprised to see me, jumping to attention as I approached. Using my key to open the panel on the wall, I pressed my thumb to the biometric scanner and the hidden door sprang free with a soft hiss. The stairs behind the door were carpeted in a thick blood red, the dark mahogany walls and dim lighting adding to the 1920’s ambiance. When I reached the top, I paused, looking around at my favorite—and most profitable—creation.
There were only a few gaming tables in operation tonight, but the lounge had some familiar faces, men and women enjoying a drink and some conversation before they went back to risking their fortunes at my tables.
Heading to the bar, I stepped up, and immediately a glass was placed in front of me, top shelf tequila on the rocks, just the way I liked it.
“Thanks, Kiki,” I said, giving her a nod as she moved down to tend to other customers, the flapper style dress that constituted the uniform in this club swaying as she worked. Leaning back against the bar, I surveyed the small crowd until I saw who I was looking for, exactly where I knew he would be.
The roulette table. He just couldn’t resist it.
He saw me, too. I knew he did by the way his shoulders stiffened as he placed his chips down on the table. I could almost always guess where he was gonna bet, too.
The man always bet on black.
I was almost finished with my drink before he cashed out, collecting his chips and moving over to a shadowed corner, sliding his large body into the booth as he stared at me, completely at ease in my domain.
Walking over, I sat on the opposite bench, the ice clinking in my glass as I set it down.
