Chapter 1 - “Act like you love me. Please.”The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them.
My fingers tightened around the sleeve of the stranger standing beside the roulette table.
Across the casino floor, Mason Reed was walking toward me.
He wasn't alone.
A blonde woman in a silver dress clung to his arm, diamonds glittering at her throat and wrists. Her laugh carried through the room like she owned it.
I knew that laugh.
I knew Mason's expression too.
That confident little smile.
The one he wore whenever he believed he had found a way to hurt me.
The stranger looked down at my hand.
Then at my face.
“Why?”
I swallowed.
“Because if Mason sees me standing here alone in this uniform, he'll humiliate me in front of everyone.”
His eyes dropped toward my wrist.
A purple bruise disappeared beneath the cuff of my casino uniform.
His expression changed.
“Did he do that?”
“It doesn't matter.”
“That wasn't my question.”
I looked away.
Six days earlier, Mason had grabbed my wrist so hard I couldn't sleep for two nights.
He called it an accident.
I called it a warning.
Before I could answer, Mason reached us.
The stranger moved first.
He took the tray from my hand and placed it on the roulette table.
Then his arm wrapped around my waist.
Firm.
Controlled.
Almost protective.
“Smile,” he whispered.
I forced my lips upward.
Mason stopped.
His eyes traveled from the stranger's arm around my waist to my face.
Then he laughed.
“Well,” he said. “This is unexpected.”
The stranger didn't look impressed.
“And you are?”
“Mason Reed.”
He glanced at me.
“I dated Claire.”
Nothing.
No recognition.
No reaction.
Mason's confidence cracked.
Then a casino manager came rushing across the floor.
His face was pale.
“Mr. Costantini.”
Everything inside me froze.
The stranger casually turned toward him.
“Yes?”
The manager lowered his head.
“Sir.”
Mason stared.
I stared.
Dominic Costantini.
The owner of the Echelon Casino.
The man whispered about in restaurants, private clubs and back rooms across the city.
The man whose name never appeared in newspapers unless someone was already dead, missing, or suddenly very rich.
Mason's face drained of color.
“You're with Dominic Costantini?”
Dominic looked at me.
“She’s with me.”
Mason gave a nervous laugh.
“That's interesting.”
He glanced at my uniform.
“Two months ago, she couldn't afford her half of the rent.”
“You emptied our account,” I said.
“It was my money.”
“It had fourteen thousand dollars of mine.”
The laughter around us disappeared.
Mason stepped closer.
“You really want to discuss our relationship here?”
Dominic's voice was calm.
“Yes.”
Mason looked at him.
Dominic didn't blink.
“If this is private, you shouldn't have brought it into my casino.”
Mason's jaw tightened.
He turned toward the exit.
“Mr. Reed.”
He stopped.
“You forgot something.”
“What?”
“An apology.”
Mason stared.
“To her?”
“Yes.”
He laughed.
“You have no idea what she's like.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“I know she asked a stranger for protection when she saw you coming.”
Silence.
Mason looked at me.
His eyes carried the same old warning.
You will pay for this later.
Dominic noticed.
His arm tightened around my waist.
“Claire,” Mason said quietly, “you're making a serious mistake.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“She has made mistakes before.”
His eyes locked onto Mason.
“You, apparently.”
Mason left.
Only when the elevator doors closed did I realize I had stopped breathing.
I stepped away from Dominic.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“Dragging you into this.”
His gaze returned to my wrist.
“Did Mason do that?”
“It was an accident.”
“When?”
“Six days ago.”
“Police?”
I laughed bitterly.
“He knows people.”
“So do I.”
“That is exactly what scares me.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“Good.”
Two hours later, I stood outside Dominic's private office.
His assistant opened the door.
“Mr. Costantini is expecting you.”
I entered.
The room was darker than the casino floor.
Black marble.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
One desk.
One chair.
Two men waiting.
Dominic sat behind the desk.
His general manager stood beside him.
A file lay open between them.
My name was on the cover.
My stomach dropped.
Dominic looked up.
“We have a problem.”
“What problem?”
He opened the file.
“Mason Reed didn't just steal fourteen thousand dollars from you.”
He turned the first page.
“He used your identity to borrow another eighty-six thousand.”
My hands went cold.
“No.”
Dominic slid the documents toward me.
My name.
My social security number.
My signature.
Bank statements.
Loan agreements.
Every page looked real.
“I never signed these.”
“I know.”
I looked at him.
“Then how did he?”
Dominic leaned back.
“That is what we're trying to find out.”
I turned another page.
There were four separate loans.
Three credit lines.
Two shell companies.
A private account.
Then I saw the final document.
A transfer authorization.
My name was listed as the guarantor.
The recipient account belonged to a company called Raven Holdings.
I stared.
“Mason doesn't own a company called Raven Holdings.”
Dominic's face became unreadable.
“He doesn't.”
“Then who does?”
He slid another photograph across the desk.
I picked it up.
A man stood beside Mason.
Dark suit.
Silver hair.
Cold eyes.
I didn't recognize him.
Dominic did.
“He's the reason you shouldn't leave this casino alone tonight.”
My throat tightened.
“Who is he?”
Dominic didn't answer immediately.
Then he said four words.
“Elias Varela. Mafia financier.”
I stared at the photograph.
“What does he want with me?”
Dominic closed the file.
“That's the wrong question.”
“What is the right one?”
His eyes met mine.
May you like
“Why does Elias Varela believe you're already working for him?”
And suddenly, the room felt much colder.
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