Page 9 of Boardwalk Kings

That would be the end.

Dad handled all their assets, including their legitimate gambling profits and the illegal money they laundered. I learned everything about finance and building wealth from my dad. By my eighteenth birthday, I was day trading and learning how to move money, so the IRS and the SEC couldn’t find it.

We stopped in front of the marble island at the center of the kitchen. Nico poured me a glass of vodka and added a splash of cranberry. I eyed him with suspicion as he handed the glass to me.

How did he know my favorite drink?

I know everything about you, he’d said earlier.

Of course, he did.

The Lucianos did their homework on their associates. They let few people get close to the family and their operations.

A black-haired man hooked his arm around Nico and patted him on the back. “You made it. Didn’t think you’d show, Nicky.”

Nico grimaced at his nickname. He didn’t look like a Nicky or someone who liked to be called that, but he didn’t correct his friend.

“Like I’d miss your birthday, you sneaky fuck.” With his arm around his friend, Nico turned to the side, focused on me. “This is my oldest friend. Don’t trust this one. We call him Sneaky Pete for a reason.”

“Dick, stop telling lies to beautiful ladies.” Then he looked at me. “I’m Pietro. Or Pete.” He winked. But you can call me whatever you want.”

I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ava.”

“Vianello,” Nico added.

They exchanged a silent communication.

“Our parents work together.” Pete reached for the expensive vodka bottle on the counter. “My dad is the pit boss at Nicky’s casino.”

So this was Pietro Morelli. I knew his dad but had only heard of the wiseguy everyone in Atlantic City called Sneaky Pete.

“Your dad is Vinnie Morelli?” I said between sips of the cranberry vodka.

Pete nodded.

“He tosses me a hundred dollar chip when I see him and tells me to buy something pretty.”

I never cashed the chips for money.

He laughed. “That sounds like my dad. He’s got a weakness for beautiful women.”

My cheeks flushed at his compliment, so I hid my face inside the cup.

“Pete,” a woman shouted over the loud music blasting through the speakers. A pretty blonde with skinny legs, wearing a skimpy red dress, flagged him down from the living room. “Come dance with me, birthday boy.”

Pete groaned as he stared at her and licked his lips. Then he tapped Nico on the arm and excused himself.

I tilted my head to see Nico smiling at me.

He tucked the hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheek, sending a chill down my spine. “Dance with me.” He moved behind me when I didn’t answer and grabbed my hips. His breath fanned across my neck as he bent down to speak against the shell of my ear. “You look good enough to eat in this dress,dolce ragazza.”

“Is this how you charm all your women?”

He laughed in my ear. “You act like I have a harem of women.”

My skin pricked with tiny bumps from his breath on my neck, his hands on my shoulders. Nico was too close and smelled too damn good. And he was the last person I should have been hanging out with the night before my final exam.

Without another word, I led him into the living room, where dozens of people danced to a rap-techno mix. Nico hooked his arm around me, and I let go, closed my eyes, swept away by the sensation his touch provided. Electricity skated across my skin. His muscular chest pressed against my back, and his hands slid down my arms.

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