17

Nico
Because I’m way too obsessed, the next day I check to see if Sondra quit or checked out. She didn’t, but she did call in sick.
I search the casino video feeds until I eventually spot her lying out by the pool.
I smile. Good for her.
But then I wish I hadn’t found her, because the urge to go out on the pool deck and rip that string bikini off her body and lick every place the sun hasn’t touched overwhelms me. And that’s closely followed by a blast of white hot jealousy. Because every fucking guy on the pool deck is seeing the same thing I am.
And something about a scantily clad Sondra Simonson is way more risqué than the showgirls and cocktail waitresses who parade around my club with more of their asses and tits showing.
I do the only thing reasonable-get the hell away from the security feeds and out on the floor, terrorizing my employees.
I see Corey on the floor and her eyes meet mine, bold and confrontational.
Yes, I handed your boyfriend his ass and told him to get out of your life. I may have a bit of a god complex. Sue me.
Because I’m feeling like a tyrant, I head right over to the floor manager, Ross. “Stand in for Corey Simonson for a moment. I need to have a word with her.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Tacone.” Ross hustles over to Corey, who’s working the roulette wheel, and murmurs something in her ear. As soon as the play is over, he steps in for her, making all her customers groan. People get superstitious about their croupier, especially when she’s a tall, gorgeous redhead.
Corey lifts her chin and strides over to me, wearing the hell out of a pair of pumps and a slinky black dress with a plunging neckline.
“You have something to say to me?” I demand as soon as she arrives.
Her eyelids flare for a moment before she hides her surprise. She’s silent a full beat. “No, sir.”
“You sure?” I challenge.
Another beat, then she shakes her head. “I don’t give a shit what you to do him.” Disgust infuses her voice and I experience a flash of sympathy for her. It’s a wonder how beautiful women end up with losers for boyfriends.
Cazzo, now I’m getting soft for other people, too. What in the hell is wrong with me? I definitely need some fucking sleep.
Jenna
“It’s time to seal the deal,” my father pronounces. He’s sitting behind his great walnut desk, snipping the end off a cigar. I’ve been summoned here, to his office, the mafia princess to the king.
The knot of anxiety I’ve carried under my ribs from the time I was old enough to understand my future cinches up so tight I can’t breathe.
“Junior Tacone asked about you. He knows you graduated college. I can’t put it off any longer.”
I curse the tears that spring into my eyes. But it isn’t fair. I’ve been trapped into this marriage since I was nine months old. Signed over to marry a man ten years older than I am. A man who never wanted me, either.
I guess that should be my one comfort.
“Did Nico ask for me?” My voice wobbles.
My father lights the cigar and puffs.
I hate cigar smoke. I can’t stand the way my dad blows it in my direction like he’s never heard of second-hand smoke health issues.
“No. I don’t know what the fuck Nico’s problem is. If he thinks he’s going to disrespect this family by refusing to marry you-”
“But I don’t want to marry him,” I wail, for the four hundred and fiftieth time.
My dad points an imposing finger at me. “You’ll do what you have to do to solidify the bond between our families. That’s the one fucking thing I ask of you. You don’t have to get your hands dirty, don’t have to be a soldier like your brothers. You marry who I fucking tell you to marry, and you do it with class. The way your mother raised you.”
And this is the answer I’ve heard my entire life.
I swallow back the bile rising in my throat.
“The families have been bonded all these years just with the marriage contract. We don’t need an actual wedding to solidify things.”
“Enough.” My father waves a hand. “I’m sending you to Vegas. You tell Nico Tacone to start making wedding plans. The time has come.”
Sondra
After three days of a luxury vacation on Nico Tacone’s dime, I decide it’s time to go back to work. And I’m fully aware what that means.
He warned me, thoroughly.
He’s also honored his word and stayed away. No contact, unless you count his talking to Corey. But I haven’t had any leads on a professional job and this one is better than nothing.
Oh, who am I kidding? Going back to work means I’ve decided to offer myself up like a virginal sacrifice to Nico Tacone.
He’s like an addiction. I want to stay away-I really do. I know it’s the right thing. But the excitement produced by the thought of seeing him again is too hard to resist. I want to be near him again, to sizzle and sear under the flame of his desire for me.
Quit the job. Move back to Michigan. Use your degree, the voice of reason argues.
Mine, says TheVoice of Wrong, pawing the air in the direction of Nico’s suite with cat claws.
So I show up to work and pack my housekeeping cart like nothing happened.
“Feeling better?” Marissa asks.
“Yep. It was a stomach bug.” I feel a little guilty about lying to her, but what can I do? The real story is too bizarre to share with anyone but Corey.
I’m hoping she bounces back from the Dean thing soon. She came over to the suite the night it happened and the two of us drank a couple bottles of wine until we were cursing all men and vowing to never let each other date a loser again.
Which, of course, meant Corey tried to talk me out of my infatuation with Tacone. So now I’ll have her judgment to face on top of whatever trouble I get myself into today. But she’ll be there to pick up the pieces for me.
Maybe that’s the lesson in all this. I pick shitty men, but there are people in my life who love me and would do anything for me. That’s a gift all on its own.
I clean the other suites first. In the second one, I run into the guys I saw on the first day.
“That’s the one,” one of them mutters to the other as they leave and I go in.
“What one?”
“The housekeeper Nico’s obsessed with.” The door clicks shut. It’s not really new news. I know he has a thing for me. But hearing it from a stranger’s lips makes it more solid. More real. More exciting. I have a bounce in my step as I clean.
When I’m finished, I head into Tacone’s suite. He’s not there, which is definitely for the best. It’s a stay of execution. So why, then, am I so disappointed?
I’m almost finished with the last room when I hear Tacone’s keycard in the lock.
My heart shoots into my throat.
Tacone saunters in and his gaze takes in the housekeeping cart, then swivels around to see me. The moment our eyes connect, a jolt of pure electricity zaps me where I stand.
There’s satisfaction in Tacone’s small smirk, and dark promise in his eyes.
He stalks toward me. “I did warn you what would happen if you came back, right?” His voice is rough, hungry.
I hold his gaze. “You warned me.”
He reaches me, shaking his head. “You asked for it.” He picks me up by the waist and plops me on the barstool that cozies up to the breakfast bar. I reach for his belt, but he grabs my wrist.
“Nuh uh. I’m in charge, baby. I decide when and how I’m gonna fuck you. Whether I’m going to satisfy my fantasy of bending you over that housekeeping cart, or make you put those pigtails back in your hair and take you in the shower.” He slides his palms up my bare legs, pushing the skirt of my housekeeping dress up as he goes. When his thumbs reach my panties, he slides them lightly over the gusset, teasing me.
My pussy squeezes around air. I grab his arms to keep from falling back.
“That’s right, sugar. You hang on tight. Because this time I’m not holding back.”
The sound that comes out of my throat is unrecognizable.
He brushes his knuckle over my clit, barely making contact, driving me crazy. “Did you bring this pussy to me to get fucked? You knew I wouldn’t let her go empty this time, didn’t you?”
It’s dirty and crude, but God help me, I love it. Lord, if Tanner had ever talked to me this way, I would’ve laughed in his face. But Tacone pulls it off because he oozes sexual confidence.
My head wobbles as I nod.
That’s what brought me back here. I want another Nico Tacone orgasm. I just have to remember to keep my head about me and not let my heart get involved. And to avoid witnessing anything illegal that could put me in danger.
Yeah, I’m stupid. I’m a horny little idiot who’s certain this is going to be the best lay of my life.
He tucks a thumb under the gusset of my panties. “Mmm hmm. You’re wet for me, aren’t you?” I guess I’m readier than I’ve ever been, because he slips his thumb right in me without any preparation needed. He groans, his lids drooping. “Bambina…I’ve been thinking about this pussy every minute of the day since the day I first caught you here.” He holds me around my waist, tipping me back and pumps his thumb. “Whole casino full of pussy, but I only want this one.”
My head falls back. I’m balanced on my tailbone, arched over his arm, my upper body kept up by my grip on his forearms.
“And this is why. You’re so fucking inviting. So receptive.” His face contorts as if it pains him not to be inside me.
I squirm, wanting to take him deeper, get more friction. His thumb is not enough.
“Greedy girl. You want me to fuck you good?”
“Yes, please.”