24

Sondra
“So you’ll help?”
Nico grimaces, but he nods. “I’ll help you.”
I clutch his arm. “You won’t hurt him?”
His nostrils flare. “I can’t fucking stand you begging me on his behalf, bambi.”
I can’t really stand it, either. Tanner shouldn’t be screwing up my relationship with Nico. But I feel responsible for taking the car. I knew when I did it, it was the wrong thing to do, but I wanted to punish him. But not with death.
I drop my forehead against his chest and he strokes the back of my neck. I still can’t believe such a powerful man is so into me, but knowing he’s willing to give me this means everything.
“I won’t hurt him,” he mutters, disgust registering in his voice. “But if it costs me thirty large, I’m going to take payment out on your ass.”
I jerk my head up to read his expression and find him smirking. My butt clenches at the threat. Does he mean more spanking? Because I pretty much loved every time he’s done it.
“Give me the details on the car. I’ll send my guys over there tonight to find the drugs.” I tell him everything I can about the car and the salvage yard and he gets on his phone and barks orders. When he hangs up, I thank him.
“Do I still get my surprise?”
He barks out that booming laugh and it seems to surprise even him. “Yes, piccolina. Come on.” He grabs my hand and suddenly we’re headed out the door of his suite, back into the elevator. He uses his keycard to punch in a number, which means we’re going to a private floor. I’m intrigued.
He pushes me up against the elevator wall and claims my mouth, not stopping the kiss until the doors open and I squirm. Then he turns on a dime and tugs me out of the elevator, moving briskly through what appear to be management offices. We arrive at a door flanked by two security guards.
“Mr. Tacone.” They nod their deferential greetings. Nico presses his thumb to the pad, then brings his eye level for a retinal scan.
High tech.
The heavy door unclicks and one of the guards pulls it open for us.
We step into a giant, room-sized safe. Carts of neatly bundled cash make my eyes bug out, but Nico heads over to a cabinet, which he opens. He pulls out a rectangular object draped in black cloth.
Art.
I rush to his side, my heart already beating faster. I know before he uncovers it it’s a Picasso. Even so, a shudder of pleasure, of recognition, runs through me. It’s from his blue period, of a woman sitting in a chair.
“Nico,” I breathe. “Where did you get this?”
He doesn’t look at the painting at all-he’s only watching my reaction to it.
“I occasionally collect debt payment in the form of fine art and gems.”
“Do you know what this is worth?”
“I had it valued.” He says this casually, like the ten million-dollar painting isn’t what interests him.
“What’s the name of this one? I’ve never seen pictures of it.”
“Woman in Chair.” He reaches in the cabinet and pulls out another painting, then another. He unveils four Picassos, one Rembrandt, two Rothkos and a Renoir.
I’m practically swoony by the time I’ve examined them all up close. “You should have these on display. Set up the Bellissimo Museum or something.”
Nico has his hands in his pockets. He’s standing back, observing me, like I’m the rare and valuable masterpiece. “I could. I’d have to invest in heavy security. Plus, then everyone and their brother knows how much wealth I have sitting around here.”
“True, but it could be a draw. It might set your casino apart as something really special The must-see of Las Vegas.” I gasp as an idea occurs to me. “You could make the whole place about art. Go with Italian artists and decorate the different towers in different periods.”
Nico’s eyes glitter and his lips curl into a smile. “That’s an idea, yes.”
He wraps the paintings back up, one by one and replaces them. When he takes my hand to lead me out, he says, “You really love them.”
My mouth falls open. “How can you not?”
He chuckles. “For me they’re just a different form of currency. A diversification of my portfolio. For you, they’re like-I don’t know-living beings.”
I laugh, because that’s exactly how I see art. “Yes. Incredible beings. They should be on display.”
He leads me back out to the elevator. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll set up a museum-redecorate the Bellissimo if you direct and curate it.”
I stop mid-stride. “Really? You’d let me curate?”
“Of course. Who the fuck else would I hire?”
I throw my arms around him because those paintings are already in my soul. Already calling to me, begging to be shown, to be celebrated. “Thank you. I’d love to.”
He smiles down at me. “You’re happy.” He sounds half-surprised, half-satisfied.
I kiss his stubbled jaw. “So happy.”
“Good.”
He takes me back up to his place, but when he opens the door, he ushers me in, but doesn’t close it. “I have work to do, but I want you to sleep in my bed tonight.”
He doesn’t ask. It’s an order.
“What if I say no?” I ask, testing.
He raises a brow. “Why would you?”
Good point. Why would I? Just to prove he doesn’t own me? Didn’t I just promise he did?
I guess I need to know how deep I’m in. Would he let me go if I said no? Or would he hold Tanner over my head? How real is this?
I take it back-I don’t want to know. I want to stick my head deep in the sand and enjoy what I have. An incredible new job opportunity.
And a man who thinks I’m the cat’s meow.
And the fact that he’s a dangerous criminal can just get swept under the rug for the moment.
“I don’t have my toothbrush here.”
Nico’s lips twitch. “I’ll have one brought up for you. I need to go and I don’t want you running around the casino by yourself.”
I roll my eyes and he cocks a stern brow. “Indulge me, cucciola mia. I need to know you’re up here keeping my bed warm with this hot little body.”
He pulls me against him and I melt into his hard-muscled form.
“What’s cucciola?”
“Pet. I called you my pet.”
That seems a fitting name for a woman he thinks he owns.
I swallow down my nerves. He respects me. He just created a dream job for me. I don’t need to be afraid.
Or do I?