Nico (Ruin & Revenge #1)(3)
Mr. T hadn’t even broken a sweat, but Mia could see the veins in his neck pulsing, his anger kept tightly in check. “Gentlemen.” He gave the briefest of nods to the men at the table. “My casino manager, Vito, will be with you shortly to address the inconvenience.” He turned to Mia, his narrowed, cool gaze holding her in place. “Come.”
His voice didn’t broach any argument, nor did the firm hand he placed on her lower back, or the slight pressure he exerted to direct her where he wanted her to go. He was even taller than she had thought, well over six feet, broad and muscular. She inhaled sharply at his touch, breathed in the fresh, spicy scent of his cologne. Given the violence he had just unleashed in the private salon, she had expected something wild and musky, reflecting the primitive, feral side of his nature.
“Where are we going?”
“My office.”
She hesitated; looked back at the man on the plush carpet, his white shirt covered in blood. “Alone?”
“Yes, bella. Alone.”
*
She was liquid sex.
Dark hair. Dark eyes. Curves all over the place. Creamy skin. Breasts almost bursting out of her corset. That little skirt barely covering her ass. Those high cheekbones and rosy cheeks. Those fucking long legs in those fucking stockings, the heels …
Nico hadn’t paid much attention to the uniform his casino manager had picked for the waitresses, but on her it was so fucking sexy his dick got hard the moment she walked into the salon.
Usually he didn’t get involved with the casino cheats, thieves, or the scammers who thought they could evade the hundreds of cameras and top-of-the-line security system he had installed when he renovated the old Lucky Duck casino on Freemont Street, but then soldiers from rival crime families were usually not stupid enough to walk into his casino much less try to cheat at a high-stakes table where Nico was seated, and sexy women didn’t try to hack into his computer system.
He wanted to know everything about her. What she was doing in the casino control room? Why she didn’t she flinch when he lost his temper at the poker table? And why she was so goddam familiar?
Nico steeled himself to do what had to be done as he walked the beautiful woman through his casino, a cacophony of alluring stimulation—bells ringing, siren-like lights flashing, slot wheels whirring, digital sounds beeping, the occasional simulated sound of change clanging—all meant to captivate and enthrall, giving the impression that everyone was a winner.
Although Casino Italia wasn’t on the Strip, it had the same upscale décor to attract the high rollers who wanted a downtown experience without giving up the luxuries they would get at the high-end hotels. Everything was slick, burnished, and gleaming, from the red walls that were meant to evoke a safe, comfortable feeling, to the patterned carpets designed to mesmerize, welcome, and please the eye, and from the low mellow lighting to the soft, easing soundtracks to help gamblers get into a trance to encourage them to spend money. Nico had never run a casino before buying the Lucky Duck, and the psychology behind the redesign had intrigued him.
The woman didn’t speak as he guided her through the maze of slot machines, poker and blackjack tables, past the crowds, around the craps tables and the roulette wheels. He slid his key card into a wood-paneled elevator and moments later they were on the tenth floor.
Nico ushered the woman into his office. Cold, austere, functional, and decorated in the casino colors of red, black, and gray, it had a small meeting table and chairs on one side, and a steel bookcase on the other. A place to do business, nothing more.
After closing the door behind her, he settled in the leather chair behind his chrome-and-glass desk.
“Sit.” He gestured to the chair in front of her.
“I prefer to stand.”
Nico expressed his displeasure with a scowl. As the Toscani family’s highest-ranking capo—captain with a powerful and extensive crew working beneath him—he was unused to be being disobeyed. He answered only to the Toscani family administration: the boss, underboss, and consigliere, and even then he did only enough to maintain the illusion he was towing the party line. His uncle, Santo, now Don Toscani, had become boss after Nico’s father’s death. By rights, Nico, as the first son of the first son, was heir to head the family, but when he had come of age and made his claim, Santo had refused to step down.
“Sit,” he said curtly. “Or I’ll make you sit.”
“By breaking my nose?”
He fought back a bark of amusement. She was all sass, despite her predicament, and when she didn’t move, he was forced to drink in the full beauty of her lush body all over again. She was no ordinary thief if she knew how to find to the control room, what to do when she got there, and how to keep the interest of a man who would ordinarily just have handed her over to the police.
Legitimate businesses like Casino Italia had to be handled in a legitimate way, unlike the businesses in Nico’s underground portfolio that spanned everything from loansharking to real-estate fraud, and from counterfeiting to tax evasion. He greased palms and oiled the wheels of business in Las Vegas and across California to Los Angeles. There was nowhere his influence couldn’t reach—even in the territories carved out by the two rival Mafia families who were vying with the Toscanis for control of the city.
“Your nose is too lovely to break.” He had to stop looking at her. He was engaged to marry a young Sicilian woman in the next few weeks—an agreement made between her father and Nico’s father when Nico was six years old to cement a formidable alliance. He had never met Rosa Scozzari, but she was from a Cosa Nostra family many generations back. The alliance would legitimize Nico’s status as heir to head the family, and give him the power to overthrow his uncle despite the fact that Nico was a bastard—the son of his father’s mistress. A beautiful Italian woman was as much a symbol of status as a large house and a fancy car. Rosa would bear his sons, run his house, and organize social events. Sex and emotional attachment he would get from the mistresses every boss was expected to take as a further show of power.