Page 85 of My Mafia Queen

I can’t make mistakes tonight.

We need to get back to the resort and then to Las Vegas in one piece.

Twenty-four more hours or so, and I’ll need to fly to New York. For the first time since I can remember, I’m not looking forward to having a sit down with my uncle.

I try to push that thought away and be present in the moment.

The hostess walks ahead of us.

She stops in front of a double door, and I step to the side with Carmina as a precaution while the woman opens them, noticing my move yet not flinching.

My men are ready for anything, and out of reflex, I touch my gun.

Carmina is unaware of what is going on. Or at least, she seems distracted.

She looks more beautiful than ever with her cheeks still flushed and a sexy glint in her eyes.

“Damaso Salla.”

A voice resonates inside the VIP room, and Vadim Ivanov himself walks out to greet us.

Four burly guys stand behind him.

One of them wears an eye patch, and they all look like hired assassins. But one can’t be too picky when selecting people in charge of guarding their lives.

Besides, Vadim doesn’t look too soft either. A man in his forties, Boris’ boss, has piercing eyes, salt and paper hair, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, and two long scars on his left cheek.

Whoever he’d pissed left a long-lasting message on his skin.

“What was the hold-up?” he asks, flashing a fake smile like mine.

“No hold-up. We hit some traffic.”

“Really?”

He stretches a sly smile, not believing me. I didn’t expect him to.

We’re both playing games.

“And who’s this?” he murmurs, shifting his eyes to Carmina.

She looks at him expressionlessly, not batting a lash.

She’s learned a few things from me, and some of them have nothing to do with the bedroom.

“Carmina Leto. This is Vadim Ivanov,” I say to her, although my eyes don’t move away from his face.

I don’t like his expression.

His short lashes cast a thin shadow over his cunning stare while a knowing smile tilts his lips.

There is something malevolent in his gaze, and my gut tells me he knows a lot about Carmina from Boris.

I’m surprised Boris is not here.

“Nice to meet you,” he says in a husky tone with the dusty awkwardness of a suitor from another era.

He stretches his hand out, and she connects hers with his without a word.

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