“Act like you love me, please.”
The words left my mouth before pride could stop them.
My fingers were already wrapped around the sleeve of the most dangerous-looking man in the Echelon Casino, and somewhere behind him, my ex-boyfriend was walking toward me with the smile he always wore when he knew I had nowhere to run.
For one terrible second, the stranger said nothing.
He looked down at my hand.
Then he looked at me.
The noise of the casino seemed to fall away.
Roulette balls still clicked against polished wheels. Chips still stacked and scattered across green felt. Crystal glasses touched beneath chandeliers bright enough to turn midnight into gold. But standing beside that table, all I could hear was the blood pounding behind my ears.
The man I had grabbed was tall enough that I had to tilt my chin to meet his eyes.
Dark hair swept neatly away from a face that belonged on a magazine cover if not for the absolute lack of warmth in it. Sharp cheekbones. Light stubble. Black suit tailored so perfectly it seemed less like clothing and more like armor.
No flashy watch.
No ridiculous diamond cuff links.
No attempt to show anyone he had money.
Which somehow made it obvious he had more money than almost everyone in the room.
“And why,” he asked quietly, “would I do that?”
His voice was smooth.
Not friendly.
Not angry.
Just controlled.
I swallowed.
“Because the man coming this way is my ex.”
His eyes flicked past me.
Mason was less than thirty feet away now.
Navy blazer. White shirt. Expensive loafers purchased with money that had once come from our joint account.
Beside him walked a blonde woman in a silver gown with diamonds across her throat.
His new girlfriend.
Of course she was beautiful.
Of course Mason had chosen tonight to parade her through the casino where I worked.
And of course he had seen me.
The stranger’s gaze returned to my face.
“That doesn’t explain why you need me.”
Mason laughed loudly at something his girlfriend whispered.
My stomach tightened.
“He likes humiliating me.”
The stranger’s expression barely changed.
Barely.
But his gaze moved downward.
To my wrist.
The cuff of my white waitress shirt had shifted when I grabbed him. Beneath the edge of my concealer, a faint purple shadow remained.
I immediately pulled my sleeve lower.
Too late.
His eyes had seen it.
“Did he do that?”
I should have lied.
I had become good at lying.
I had lied to coworkers when they asked why I had missed a shift.
I had lied to my sister on the phone and said the bruise came from bumping into a cabinet.
I had lied to myself for three years and called Mason controlling when the truthful word had always been abusive.
“He grabbed me.”
The stranger looked back toward Mason.
“When?”
“Before I left him.”
“And he’s still bothering you?”
“He emptied our joint account after I moved out.”
Something changed in the stranger’s face.
Not shock.
Not pity.
Recognition, maybe.
As though he understood betrayal better than he understood fear.
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much did he take?”
“Almost twenty-eight thousand dollars.”
My voice cracked saying it.
Most of that money had been mine.
Tips saved in envelopes.
Double shifts.
Christmas bonuses.
Money for the little apartment I dreamed of buying someday instead of renting forever.
Mason had taken almost everything.
Then told everyone I had wasted it.
The stranger tilted his head.
“Your name?”
“Emma.”
“Emma what?”
“Emma Carter.”
His gaze held mine for another beat.
Then Mason arrived.
“Well, well.”
My spine went rigid.
I knew that voice too well.
Mason stopped several feet away and gave me the slow once-over he used to make me feel too small for whatever room we were in.
“Emma.”
“Mason.”
His girlfriend leaned toward him.
“You know the waitress?”
Waitress.
Not woman.
Not person.
The waitress.
Mason laughed.
“You could say that. Emma and I used to live together.”
His gaze moved to the stranger.
And then Mason’s expression changed.
Only slightly at first.
A hesitation.
A tightening near the jaw.
Recognition.
I felt the stranger move beside me.
His hand came out of his pocket.
For one wild second, I thought he was going to push me away.
Instead, his palm settled at my waist.
Warm.
Steady.
Possessive enough to make the message unmistakable.
He drew me gently against his side.
Every thought in my head disappeared.
Mason’s smile froze.
The blonde beside him blinked.
And around us, several casino employees suddenly became extremely interested in absolutely nothing.
The stranger looked down at me.
His expression softened by perhaps one degree.
Enough to sell the performance.
“You disappeared on me, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
My mouth almost fell open.
He lifted one eyebrow, reminding me that I had asked for this.
I forced myself to play along.
“My shift got busy.”
“I noticed.”
He brushed his thumb lightly against my waist.
It was such a small gesture.
Mason saw it.
That was all that mattered.
His face darkened.
“So this is what you’re doing now?” Mason asked me.
My throat tightened.
I knew that tone.
The one that always meant punishment was coming later.
Except there would be no later.
There couldn’t be.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
The stranger’s arm tightened.
Not painfully.
Protectively.
Mason glanced at him.
“Look, no offense. This is personal.”
The stranger’s eyes became flat.
“I disagree.”
Mason laughed nervously.
“This doesn’t concern you.”
“It concerns me when you speak to my woman like that.”
My woman.
The entire casino seemed to inhale.
Mason’s girlfriend slowly removed her hand from his arm.
I looked up at the stranger.
He didn’t glance down.
His attention remained entirely on Mason.
Then one of the security men near the tables straightened.
Another appeared near the bar.
Then another.
All of them looking toward us.
Mason noticed.
The color drained from his face.
His girlfriend whispered, “Mason?”
Mason didn’t answer.
He was staring at the stranger.
“Costantini?”
The name meant nothing to me.
But judging by Mason’s face, it should have.
The stranger gave him a faint smile.
“I was wondering how long it would take.”
My heart stumbled.
Mason took a half step backward.
His girlfriend looked between them.
“Who is he?”
Mason still didn’t answer.
The stranger finally turned toward me.
“Dominic Costantini.”
He said it like an introduction at a dinner party.
I stared.
Then the name connected.
Costantini.
I had heard it whispered in break rooms since my first week at the Echelon.
The Costantini family owned shipping warehouses, restaurants, construction companies, security firms, and enough pieces of Las Vegas that no one seemed entirely certain where legitimate business ended and organized crime began.
Dominic Costantini was supposedly the man who had taken over after his father’s death.
A mafia boss.
A man people did not cross twice.
And I had grabbed his sleeve.
Asked him to pretend he loved me.
Dear God.
Mason’s new girlfriend stepped farther away from him.
“Wait. Dominic Costantini?”
Dominic’s gaze never left Mason.
“You should be careful how you speak to my woman.”
Mason swallowed.
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s usually the problem with men like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dominic glanced toward my wrist.
“It means you think the world belongs to you until someone more dangerous disagrees.”
Mason saw where he was looking.
His expression sharpened.
“Oh, come on. Emma always exaggerates everything.”
My body reacted before my mind did.
My shoulders curled.
My breathing shortened.
Dominic felt it.
His eyes moved to me.
Then back to Mason.
“What did she exaggerate?”
“She bruises easily.”
The words hit like a fist.
Exactly the excuse Mason used after he hurt me.
Exactly the sentence he had forced me to repeat.
Dominic became very still.
Mason noticed too late.
“Did you touch her?”
Mason scoffed.
“This is ridiculous.”
Dominic took one step toward him.
I moved with him because his arm was still around me.
“Did you touch her?”
Mason’s girlfriend stared at him.
“Mason?”
“It was one argument.”
My stomach twisted.
Dominic’s security men shifted.
I whispered, “Please.”
Dominic looked down at me.
I shook my head.
Not here.
Not because of me.
He studied my face and understood.
Then he surprised me.
He stepped back.
“All right.”
Relief washed through me.
Until he smiled at Mason.
“But you’re leaving.”
Mason’s jaw tightened.
“I’m a guest.”
“No. You were a guest.”
Two security officers approached.
Mason looked around in disbelief.
“You can’t throw me out because my ex made up some story.”
Dominic turned slightly toward one of the guards.
“Make sure Mr. Reed is escorted out.”
Mason stared at him.
“You own this place?”
Dominic smiled without warmth.
“Part of it.”
That was enough.
Security moved.
Mason jerked his arm away from the first guard.
“Don’t touch me.”
People were watching now.
His girlfriend looked mortified.
Mason pointed at me.
“This is what you wanted, Emma? You wanted to embarrass me?”
I flinched.
Dominic stepped between us.
Mason’s voice rose.
“You think she’s innocent? Ask her why she couldn’t keep a real job. Ask her why she needed me to pay for everything.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“You stole my savings.”
“That was our money.”
“It was my money.”
“You’re lying.”
Dominic’s tone remained calm.
“She says you took twenty-eight thousand.”
Mason hesitated.
That hesitation told Dominic everything.
“You have no idea what you’re getting into,” Mason said.
Dominic’s gaze turned almost amused.
“I believe that sentence belongs to you.”
Security led Mason away.
His girlfriend did not follow immediately.
Instead, she looked at me.
There was something uncertain in her face now.
Something almost afraid.
She touched the diamond necklace at her throat.
“Mason told me you were obsessed with him.”
I looked at her.
“I moved three times so he couldn’t find my address.”
Her face changed.
Mason shouted her name from across the floor.
She hesitated.
Then followed.
The second they disappeared, my legs nearly gave out.
Dominic caught my elbow.
The performance was over.
Or it should have been.
I stepped away immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
He watched me.
“I grabbed you without asking. I didn’t know who you were.”
“And if you had?”
“I definitely wouldn’t have grabbed you.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
I hurried to straighten my uniform.
“I should get back to work.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
I stopped.
Dominic looked toward the manager.
A man named Harris who normally treated missed cocktail orders like felony offenses.
Tonight, Harris seemed afraid to breathe incorrectly.
Dominic raised two fingers.
Harris hurried over.
“Mr. Costantini.”
“Emma’s shift is finished.”
My eyes widened.
“I still have two hours.”
Harris nodded too quickly.
“Of course. Absolutely.”
“I need the hours,” I said.
Dominic looked at Harris.
“She gets paid for them.”
“Yes, sir.”
I stared at Dominic.
“You can’t just—”
“I can.”
“That doesn’t mean you should.”
His eyebrows lifted.
For the first time, I saw genuine surprise.
Apparently people didn’t tell Dominic Costantini no very often.
“I’m not taking charity.”
“Good.”
He reached into his suit pocket and removed nothing.
No money.
No business card.
Instead he gestured toward a quiet hallway away from the casino floor.
“Then give me ten minutes.”
“For what?”
“To explain why Mason Reed is more dangerous to you than you realize.”
The chill in my stomach returned.
“What do you mean?”
Dominic studied me.
“That twenty-eight thousand dollars he stole?”
I nodded.
“I don’t think he spent it.”
My breath caught.
“What did he do with it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then why are you saying this?”
“Because Mason Reed owes money to people who have been asking questions about him for months.”
My mouth went dry.
Dominic continued.
“And now I want to know why your name was mentioned in one of those conversations.”
The casino suddenly felt colder.
I stared at him.
“My name?”
Dominic nodded once.
“You asked me what kind of man I am, Emma.”
“I didn’t.”
“No. But you’re wondering.”
He leaned slightly closer.
“I’m the kind of man who knows when a coincidence isn’t one.”
My heart began racing again.
“Are you saying Mason is involved with the mafia?”
“I’m saying Mason has been gambling with money he doesn’t have.”
I remembered the disappearing cash.
The unexplained nights.
The anger whenever I asked questions.
Dominic’s eyes stayed on mine.
“And if I’m right,” he said, “stealing your savings was only the beginning.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Dominic offered his hand.
Not touching me.
Just waiting.
“Come with me.”
I stared at his palm.
Ten minutes ago I had grabbed him because he looked like the safest dangerous man in the room.
Now I understood that I had accidentally stepped into something far bigger than Mason’s cruelty.
I slowly placed my hand in Dominic’s.
And somewhere behind us, a roulette ball dropped into a numbered slot.
The dealer announced the winner.
I didn’t hear the number.
Because Dominic Costantini looked at me and quietly said,
“From this moment on, little bird, you don’t go anywhere alone.”
And that was the exact moment my fake romance with a mafia boss stopped feeling like a joke.