64

Stefano
I stand out on the floor, scanning it for Corey. She’s not late, but I’m impatient. I texted her and told her she wouldn’t be out on the floor tonight and to wear a dress. She didn’t respond. I probably should’ve given her a little more. She’s thinking I’m going to make her deal another private game, I’m sure. But my big plans for her tonight don’t involve her dealing or staying at the Bellissimo.
And then I see her. Madonna, every time the woman enters a room the heads turn and whatever’s playing on the sound system becomes her own personal soundtrack. Right now it’s some old Pat Benatar song and someone needs to grab a fan to run ahead and blow Corey’s hair back. Strike that, her hair’s moving on its own, bouncing and brushing her inviting tits.
It’s been two weeks of mad sex. I let Corey set the pace, still making it clear I want a piece of her every chance I get. I find her in my bed at least three nights out of the week and I always make sure to reward her for it.
Multiple, blinding orgasms are just the beginning. I treat her to room service and book her appointments at the spa or salon. She’s had mani/pedis, facials, massages, reflexology. I bought her a gold thumb ring and diamond studs for the second piercing in her ears.
Tonight she’s in a sapphire blue dress, clingy around the hips with a deep V neckline.
I make a beeline for her and catch her hand. She darts a glance around.
“I don’t give a fuck who sees us,” I snarl. I’m on edge because it’s been thirty-six hours since I’ve been inside her. Plus, I’m nerved up about my plans for the night. They may flop. And it’s not like me to ever worry about a date with a girl, but hey, this woman’s different.
“You may not, but I work here,” she complains.
“Like they don’t already know.” I lead her to the jewelry shop in the casino because her neck looks bare.
“What are we doing?” She fingers the diamond earrings I bought her.
I saunter over to the case as the manager hustles over with a simpering smile. “That one.” I point to a blue opal necklace set in white gold. It’s a series of three descending pieces, the largest on top.
The manager takes it out and gives it to me. I put it around Corey’s neck and hand her the mirror. “What do you think?”
She touches it dubiously. It’s hard to know if she doesn’t like it, or doesn’t want to accept the gift. There’s always a slightly suspicious air from her for anything I do, like I’m tricking her into something.
Maybe I am.
Her eyes slide to the glass cases. Okay. Not the right necklace. I take it off her, scanning the merchandise. Corey doesn’t seem interested in anything. Maybe jewelry’s not her thing. It’s not going to stop me from trying to spoil her, though. I catch sight of an unusual piece in the corner. It’s a collar. Not really, but thinking of it that way makes me sprout a chub. It’s actually a beautiful piece with moonstones strung in a delicate daisy chain. But it’s short. Slave collar short. And the tiny white gold chain hangs down in back like a leash. I point to it and the manager scrambles to get it out.
“This is the one,” I say as I put it around Corey’s neck. She doesn’t even get a say. I want her to wear my collar tonight, and she’s going to wear it.
She fingers one of the moonstones. “It’s beautiful.”
I kiss the place where shoulder meets neck. “You’re beautiful. Come on, we have plans.”
“Do you want me to box that up for you, Mr. Tacone?” the manager asks. Sue, according to her name tag.
I shake my head. “No, thanks, she’ll wear it out.” I guide Corey out of the shop and direct her toward the elevators.
“Is it another game?” Corey’s voice is tight, and it hits me like a two by four that she’s wound up. She has PTSD from the last game.
I stop and spin her to face me. “Baby, what happened last time? That’s never going to happen again. That was a one in a thousand chance-a problem I didn’t see coming. I’m sorry you had to see it. I’m sorry I put you in danger.”
She sucks on her cheek. She might believe me intellectually, but she’s still keyed up.
“There’s no private game tonight. Not here, anyway. And you’re not dealing.”
Surprise flickers over her face. “What are we doing, then?”
I wink and incline my head toward the elevators. “It’s a surprise. Come on, amore. I’m not going to last long with you in that dress wearing my collar.”
She allows me to lead her to the elevator and doesn’t say another word until we reach the parking garage. Then she touches the necklace. “I knew that’s why you picked this one.”
I tug the chain in back. “Of course you did.”
* * *
Corey
Stefano leads me to a black Mercedes and he drives to the Venetian. I shoot him a quizzical look as we get out of the car at the valet station, but he just smiles and escorts me in.
I’m still confused as hell when he takes me to the poker room, takes out a grand in chips and sits down at a no hold em table.
“What are we doing?” I lean over and whisper.
“I’m testing your poker skills,” he murmurs back, nodding to the dealer.
“Oh.” I sit up taller. I’m suddenly intrigued, challenged and revved up. This isn’t some scary mafia deal he’s pulling me into. He wants to see me play.
I’m not sure why that’s a turn-on, but it is. His interest in me is always a panty-soaker, but knowing it goes beyond my good looks and extends to my brains, my skill, sparks more than just my libido. It lights up my tattered soul.
Stefano orders himself a whiskey, and I get tonic water with lime. I need to stay sharp. Stefano’s a decent player, but he seems more interested in observing me. After a couple hands, he gives up his seat and stands over my shoulder.
It takes me a little while to settle into it. I lose fifty bucks (of Stefano’s money, so who cares?) on the first three games. Then I stop trying so hard and just go with my first instinct on everything.
Turns out I’m the gut gambler. Who knew? I thought I would’ve been the cerebral guy.
Five games later, I’m up three hundred.
“Come on,” Stefano touches my elbow. “Let’s get you into a bigger game.” He leads me to a hundred dollar minimum table where I promptly win the next two hands.
Now I feel the energy around me, the way I usually see it with the gut gamblers. It comes in waves: from the people around me, from the cards, from my opponents, from the dealer. I swear I even sense it coming up from the floor, from the cards, and especially, from Stefano. His waves are constant. The others, they have dips and valleys. That’s how I know when to bet. When to hold. The energy goes flat for me, I fold. It gets juicy, I bet high. And it works. Every. Fucking. Time.
The dealer pushes stacks of chips my way. I’m up three thousand dollars. I get the nudge to cash it in. I glance at Stefano. “Should we go?”
He nods and I push the chips to the dealer to change them for higher denomination. She pushes six $500 chips my way.
“This is dangerous, Tacone,” I say as we walk toward the money-changing station. I slip the chips in his suit pocket. He bankrolled me, after all, and I’m on the clock for him. I figure he keeps my earnings. Besides, he just dropped almost a grand on my necklace-which I absolutely love.
“How so, bella?”
“I like it way too damn much.”
“Kind of like me?”
I can’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “Just like you-a bad bet.”
“Mmm.” He gets in the line to cash out, clinking the chips together in his pocket.
Once again, I have the sneaking suspicion I offended him. Stefano may be the bad boy, but he doesn’t embrace it.
He cashes out and tucks the wad of rolled up hundreds in my purse.
“Thank you.” I steal a glance at him from under my lashes as he leads me out. I haven’t said thank you much to him. I’ve been a bitch, really. We got off on the wrong foot and now pushing against him has become a habit.
“Don’t thank me. You won it.”
I touch his arm as we stand at the valet curb waiting for the car. “I mean thank you for everything. For bringing me here. Showing me what’s possible.”
“Don’t go quitting on me to join the world-wide poker circuit.” He winks.
I smile back. “Not quitting. But I totally want to join the circuit.”
Stefano opens the passenger door of the Mercedes as it pulls up to the curb. “I can make that happen.”
My heart flip-flops in my chest. When he comes around to the driver side and gets in, I have to ask, “Stefano?”
He slides his warm brown gaze over to me as he pulls out. “Yeah, baby?”
“What are we doing?”
At first I think he’s not going to understand the question, but then I see a muscle tick in his jaw. He guns the car, zooming into the clogged traffic on the strip, the neon lights casting pink and blue hues across the tinted windows of the luxury vehicle.
“I don’t know.” His voice is tight-so different from his usual smoky notes.
Hearing that admission-because it sounds so much like truth-actually relaxes me. Stefano isn’t playing some game. He doesn’t have an ulterior motive.
He’s as lost to these forces as I am.
To the lust. The attraction. The magnetic pull to stick together, see how this thing turns out.
His hands grip the steering wheel too tight. It’s out of character for the suave, smooth-talking man I first met. He doesn’t speak the rest of the ride back, but when he pulls into the Bellissimo’s private parking area and turns off the car, he turns to look at me.
“I want you, Corey, all the fucking time. I need to be in you on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. I could sit and just watch you for hours. Hell, I just did! I want to know everything that goes on inside that beautiful head. So what is that?”
My breath comes in shallow pants, I can’t seem to close my lips. No one-no one’s ever said anything like that to me before. It’s not sugary, not romantic. It’s raw and plain and honest. My eyes sting for a moment until I recover. Stefano gets out of the car and slams the door. I can’t seem to move until he comes around to open mine and offer his hand. I climb out of the car.
“I don’t know. You try to define this; it’s not going to fit right. I’m not the one who’s gonna give you the white picket fence. I’m the guy who wants to pull your hair and slap your ass and spoil you rotten.”
It’s almost too much to look into Stefano’s face. The intensity there rocks me.
“But you don’t want normal, right?” There’s something fierce and compelling in Stefano’s voice.
I fall into him. I hate my weakness, but being in the circle of his arms makes me strong again. Eases the tremors of uncertainty. He kisses my hair, his hand banding around the back of my neck and holding me.
“I want to take you upstairs and spank your ass red… fuck you until you scream. Then tie you up and do it all over again.”
“Well?” I lift my face to his. We’re nose to nose, so close I’m inhaling his whiskey breath. “What are you waiting for?” I whisper hoarsely.