Page 17 of Savage Obsession
“A bar,” he repeats slowly, trying to make sense of it. “We don’t buy singular bars. We buy huge fucking casinos.”
“I’m buying it. I’ll use my own capital if I have to.”
“Dude, what the fuck? We don’t run bars. We runentirecasinos. Where is this coming from? I haven’t heard of any bars coming onto the market on The Strip. Where are you talking about?”
“It’s not for sale yet, but it will be. It’s The Ace Bar. It’s right next to The Royal.” I shrug and take another drink. “I don’t care what we do once we own it. Turn it into a fucking ice cream place for all I care.”
Cash narrows his gaze, assessing me a little too closely. “Who owns it?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Only thing that matters is that we ruin them.”
“Jesus Christ, Xander. Can you stop giving me the fucking runaround here?”
A slow grin spreads on my face. This is kind of fun. “A woman in my building worked there. She got fired because the owner made some advances toward her and she declined.”
I’ve been looking into the owner of The Ace Bar. He’s an absolute piece of shit from what I can tell. And when I went in there to scope the place out, it was obvious that his employees were miserable. Overworked and underpaid. If the fucker crossed the line with Quinn, he’s certainly done it to others. And I’m not okay with that. Not only am I going to break his jaw for saying filthy words to her, but if I find out he touched her, his fingers will end up broken, too. Hell, maybe I’ll do it for fun.
“Let’s fucking go.” I toss my thumb over my shoulder and turn to leave, not surprised when I hear Cash’s steps behind me.
My brothers and I always have each other’s backs. There are two things I know without a doubt in this life, and one of them is that any of us would die for another. The other thing is that nothing is ever certain. Not tomorrow. Not love. Not happiness. Not anything.
Together, we move through the crowded casino that we’ve been walking through. It’s the time of night when things will start slowing down. Guests will head up to their rooms, occasional players will call it a night, while the hardcore gamblers will find their favorite tables and stay there until the sun starts to rise.
But right now, it’s loud with voices and the sounds and sirens of slot machines all around us. We pass Velvet Sins, the enormous bar set in the center of the floor. It’s always been one of my favorites out of all our bars. Everything is dripping in velvet, crystals, and gold. Pure luxury, yet it has an undeniably sexy feel to it.
My gaze drifts to the bar as blonde, wavy hair catches my eye. It reminds me of the same shimmery French braids from a few days ago. A group of men is in front of her, but when they turn and walk away, I stare at the beautiful woman as she mixes multiple drinks at once.
Jesus.
She looks like Quinn.A lotlike her. Yet at the same time, she’s different. Bolder. Brighter. And sexy as fuck. Unlike Quinn, this woman has makeup on. Deep red lipstick, and her cheeks glitter under the lights as she moves. Multiple necklaces adorn her neck and pretty much leave an arrow pointing to her big, pushed-up tits.
Fucking Christ.
This is what I’d imagine Quinn’s tits look like. Full and soft. And covered in so much fucking glitter.
Then the woman smiles and laughs at something the male bartender says, and my blood runs cold. Because standing behind my bar is Quinn Summers. At least, I’m pretty sure she is.
Cash practically collides with me, but I’m quick enough and start moving again.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Cash asks, scanning the bar.
Forcing my gaze away from her, I scowl and keep striding toward the exit. “Just checking.”
Cash side-eyes me but doesn’t say anything else. I glance at the bar one more time, and when I do, her eyes are on me. Her plush red mouth opens slightly, then closes right before she disappears from my line of sight when we turn the corner toward the valet.
“You need to drive.” I nod to my brother as the attendant waits for us. “I took a car here. Didn’t want to risk your wife sniffing me for alcohol and making good on her threat.”
Cash rolls his eyes and scoffs, shaking his head at me. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath so only I can hear.
It only takes a few minutes before we’re in Cash’s Range Rover, driving down Las Vegas Boulevard.
“Are we going to prison tonight?” he asks.
I shrug. “Wearen’t. I might.”
His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Who did you say this girl is?”
She’s Quinn.
