HIS: Luca: The Sabatini Family

by Fiona Murphy

  Another text comes through and I can’t put it off anymore, it’s time to go to work.

  I’m running late for my second walk-through for the night. Twice a day, once in the afternoon and again around ten in the evening, right before people come out to play, I walk. The property is one of the largest on the strip. Inside is over a hundred thousand square feet, and every inch is used. There is a five-thousand-square-foot nightclub with the VIP area on the second level, packed every night of the week. The theater is the biggest moneymaker—it’s a three-thousand-seat theater for singers who do residencies, performing twice a day for four days out of the week. During their off days we have lesser-known singers, and comedians. There are two smaller clubs, one a jazz nightclub and the other a wine bar for women only that while smaller, does almost as much business as the largest nightclub. Every one of the four different restaurants we have is Michelin rated, three of them three stars and the other two stars.

  The casino runs over thirty thousand square feet with ten thousand of it devoted to smaller rooms for poker, baccarat, and of all things, bingo. Out of all the rooms, the one that brings in the most money is the bingo room.

  The only place I don’t walk through is the spa area, even though it’s one of the largest areas of the property at over six thousand square feet. It’s run so well I only check it once a week.

  My walk takes two hours, and every minute is packed. It’s important for me to walk the floor—it allows employees access to me. Employees bring me issues without fear of a manager or other employee overhearing, enabling me to handle things before they become problems. Once I had things settled after I first took over, I stopped walking and it took less than a month for all my hard work to go to shit. So I keep walking, every day.

  When I’m out of town I have my VP of the property walk. Sandro’s tattoos show on his hands and on his neck. He’s also heavier on weights than I am, so he’s got at least twenty pounds more of muscle. It doesn’t matter my female and gay male employees think he’s good-looking; they fear him too much to speak freely with him.

  The property isn’t family friendly, it’s for serious spenders, looking for fun and a safe place to party. The clientele has certain expectations of the employees. I learned very quickly the first year if my people weren’t happy, it would show. If the guests saw it, felt it, they wouldn’t come back. Only one other casino in all of Vegas pays more than me, but they don’t have the benefits I do. The benefits were suggested by the employees: paid time off starts at six weeks and is a catch-all leave that includes sick time; childcare is offered at no cost on the second floor for babies six weeks old up to teenagers, with their food and tutoring included; no cost medical, dental, and eye insurance; ninety days of leave for birth as well as adoptions both for the mothers and fathers; and a ten percent match of contributions to a 401k. All benefits start the first day of employment.

  At first I was told it was too much. I was warned employees would take advantage. Cut to almost twenty years later and turnover is less than three percent a year. My people are so happy working here I have whole families from parents to children, to brothers, sisters, and cousins. When they are happy, our guests are happy and keep coming back. We are always at full capacity despite not having a room ever priced less than three hundred a night. The price is for a reason—we aren’t a budget casino. I don’t want people here who are on a budget.

  “Sir?” My backup pit boss stops me.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m getting reports Jason Knight is running a game from his suite. He and his entourage are trying to entice guests to play.”

  Fucking actors. “I’ll handle it.” I pull out my phone and call for two of my men to meet me at the elevators, then I make another call.

  As usual Valdez answers on the first ring. “Mr. Sabatini, how can I help you?”

  “I need your girl. Jason Knight, dumb fuck actor. I need something on him to scare the fuck out of him.”

  “One moment, sir.” He presses a button, then there’s a hum followed by a click. Valdez relays what I need and introduces me.

  “Mr. Sabatini, it’s been a minute, then I get two jobs for you in one night. Your nameless woman is pretty. Why am I not surprised? Does she know how lucky she is?” she teases me.

  Her voice is part sex phone operator, part too damn young to be a sex phone operator. “She’s gorgeous and she’ll learn, kitten. Too bad we missed our chance,” I purr.

  Her giggle can barely be heard over Valdez growling down the line. Valdez always stays on the line when he puts me through to her. I have no idea what her name is, Valdez simply calls her his girl. The first time she called herself my operator—a reference to the movie The Matrix, I call her kitten because of how cute she sounds, but her skills behind the keyboard give her wicked claws. I punch the button for Jason Knight’s floor.

  “What do you have for me, kitten? Your man is going to cut our call,” I taunt while Valdez is listening.

  “Okay, Knight isn’t just a bad boy, he’s a piece of shit. Gemma Monk—the fucker raped her. He settled for two million and a signed NDA that she’ll never talk about it. Abby Potter, he fucked her when she was only fourteen. Her mom and Abby signed an NDA for a fifty-thousand-dollar settlement. Too damn low if you ask me. Abby committed suicide less than six months later—her suicide released her from an NDA. I have the note, and my oh my does it go into the kind of detail he won’t like.”

  “Leak the suicide note everywhere. Anything else?” The elevator opens to Knight’s floor.

  “Sabatini, you are the good kind of bad I love so much. Three words, Isle of Wight. Just say it and he’ll shit his pants,” she promises.

  “Thanks, kitten. As always, it was a pleasure.” I cut the call as I use my master key to get into Knight’s room.

  When I open the door the eleven people inside the suite stop and stare. As my eyes run over the people in the room, not one of them is a concern. Three of them see me and wilt. My men stand to each side of me. All muscle, all in black—yes, so the blood isn’t as visible—have gained a well-earned reputation in Vegas as well as outside of it. My men are not for show, their ability and willingness to inflict pain is utilized on an almost nightly basis.

  I raise an eyebrow as I meet Knight’s eyes. The three men who wilted run for the door, another man follows them.

  “Mr. Knight, if you want to play poker we have tables downstairs. You and your guests could have played there.” I keep my voice low, mellow, speaking slowly as if talking to a small child.

  Two more men run for the door. Someone drops their glass, it crashes to the floor. I don’t take my eyes off Knight. His eyes fall first. He shrugs defensively. “This was a personal game with some friends.”

  “A game with your own friends is fine. You sought out guests from this hotel and casino to play. That I have a problem with. At this time I am going to have my men stand by while you and guests pack. They will escort you from here. Find somewhere else to stay in Vegas.” I nod at my men, who move toward Knight.

  All but three men who are looking from Knight to me run for the door. One of his friends eyeballs the door with longing. Knight stands, overturning the table in front of him as he does. My men don’t move. Since I was expecting it, having seen my fair share of toddlers throwing fits, I don’t even blink.

  “You can’t fucking tell me what to do. I paid for the best fucking suite in this place! Fuck me with me and your name is dirt in this city.” He stabs the air with a finger.

  I smile. “Isle of Wight.” The words are low, but he hears them. Kitten was right, he about shits his pants.

  He goes white as his head swivels around the room from his buddies to my men then back to me. “What?” The word comes out in a mangled whisper.

  I look down at my watch, a slim, pure gold Rolex Pop got me for my birthday last year. “You have ten minutes to vacate the premises or I make a call to a news agency, then everyone will know about Isle of Wight.”

  Witho
ut looking back, I leave. Before I reach the door, I hear Knight scream at his friends to move their asses.

  ***

  Luca

  The shipment is on time. One of the things I like the most about the Rodriguez cartel, they are always on time. The other being they have never dealt in trafficking of women or men.

  I watch as my people move to open the doors. The large tractor trailer is filled with fifty-pound flour bags—not really subtle. Fuck subtle.

  Then again, why would flour come from Mexico when it could come from America? If the bags were weighed, they wouldn’t come out to the 22.679 kilograms they should. These bags are exactly twenty-two kilos and a solid brick of cocaine. The entire tractor trailer should add up to a ton of cocaine. It’s not hyperbole, it’s an actual ton of cocaine. I get this shipment twice a week.

  This is just for the Outfit; the other mafia operating, Italian, Russian, Asian, and Eastern block get their own shipment. Only the Italian mafia and Russians buy this much. The Israelis prefer ecstasy—they are where we get our X, and while the Asians do get coke, they mainly sell heroin. I refuse to let my people touch heroin and crack. That shit is too dirty when we already make millions from the other stuff.

  Within eight hours my people will have broken down and packaged it all for my bigger dealers. Nothing less than fifty kilos at a time leaves this warehouse. We also don’t cut it, the coke as it is is so pure one hit would probably kill a person. What we keep will go to another warehouse and be cut for consumption. None of this coke will ever see the inside of my properties, not my place on the strip or the one Sandro runs in old Vegas. No cases full of money will be exchanged. The money that moves on this coke happens through bank accounts.

  I have more than a hundred men who handle deliveries, security, and other Outfit business for me. I don’t do deliveries. But there are two people that I take the time to deliver to. And I do it because I get something from the visits.

  I told Bella nothing happens in the city without me knowing it. Valdez helps, but mainly it’s because of my two deliveries. Alanna Carson runs one of the oldest brothels in Vegas, inherited from her mother. Like her mother, Alanna has all the dirt I need to stay on top of what is happening in Vegas.

  Carrying the two bags she’ll go through in a week, I get my usual kiss on the cheek and invitation to her bed. As per our dance, I thank her and turn her down but accept the tea she offers. This week there isn’t much in the way of news except for a down-on-his-luck former billionaire who is now so broke he’s pondering suicide. I make a note in case he seeks out a loan from the Outfit. With a thank you and another kiss on the cheek, I’m on my way.

  My only other delivery is to a strip club owner. I have no idea how he’s still alive. He says he’s sixty-five. I know for a fact he’s eighty-four and he looks it. He knows where the bodies are buried in Vegas because he was there when they were buried. Nothing gets by him and he loves being the one with the information. I’m surprised he doesn’t have much for me either. It isn’t often Vegas is quiet, and it will likely be followed by weeks of trouble to make up for it.

  The sun is coming up as I make my way home.

  4

  Isa

  Someone is following me. I can hear footsteps close by, only I can’t see anyone. Far ahead there is light, a safe place as long as I can get there before the person catches me. My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure the person following me can hear it. I squeeze my hands to quiet the pounding; they are getting closer. Now I’m running for the light, but I fall and keep falling down, down.

  With a gasp I come awake, fighting to inhale air into tight lungs.

  Blinking fast to clear the sleep, I sit up. Where I am? The sheets are cool, silky. The room is dark but there’s a light on in the bathroom with the door slightly open. Luca. I smell him on the sheets, on the shirt I’m wearing. Inhaling deeply, his scent calms me.

  A clock is on the bedside table, it’s a little after three in the morning. I’m not surprised I didn’t sleep long. Even ten months after Ignacio is dead and I know I don’t have to worry he’ll appear in my bedroom without warning, my mind refuses to let me sleep deeply. I’m usually not able to sleep until after midnight, then I’ll sleep for two or three hours, then it will catch up to me and I’ll get another three or four hours in the afternoon.

  Even though all I want to do is lie back down and snuggle into the huge, soft bed, I force myself out of it. It’s time to leave, before Luca comes back.

  The clothes that were on the bed are gone. I go into the walk-in closet. Once again I’m stunned by all the beautiful clothes he bought for me. Unlike the clothes that waited for me at Augusto’s home, these are beautiful, fine silk and lace. I run my hand over them, but I don’t dare take anything off the hanger. Stop it, Isa. You need to leave and be long gone before he finds out.

  I snatch a pair of yoga pants from a hanger. Taking off the silky pajama bottoms, I pull on the pants then slide my feet into my shoes.

  I’m not surprised the elevator doesn’t move, but what I don’t understand is how there isn’t another door for stairs. There has to be another way out of here. In the kitchen I’m closing the door to an almost empty pantry when a man appears. I jump in fear.

  His hands go up and he backs away. “I won’t touch you. Luca made it clear we’re never to touch you. I wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything. I’ll call Luca if you want. I’m Phillip, by the way.”

  I shake my head. “No, don’t call Luca. I was just... um...”

  Phillip chuckles. “No need to lie. It was expected. I won’t call him if you don’t want me to, but I have to tell him you went looking for a way out.”

  “Please, don’t.”

  “It’s my job to protect you. A part of protecting you is to protect you from everyone—including yourself.”

  I want to smack him. “Protect me from myself? Shouldn’t I be the one to decide what is good for me and what isn’t?” It’s hard not to yell.

  “Not when it comes to listening to the voices of fear over what is actually good for you.”

  Wait? How did he know I was looking for a way out? “Are you watching me?”

  A nod. “Not the bedrooms or bathrooms. It’s just to keep you safe.” Then he turns around and walks away.

  I want to scream in frustration with Luca and the man. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

  Making my way back to the living room, I catch sight of the lights on outside. Earlier I saw the pool through the glass door. I’m drawn outside to it. When I was little my mom took me to the neighborhood swimming pool. It was early in the day and there weren’t many people there; it felt like it was just the two of us. For hours my mom helped me learn to swim. She was so patient with me. I never wanted the day to end. I wasn’t sure why, but we never went again, no matter how much I begged. Now I’m certain it had to do with Augusto.

  Sitting at the edge of the pool, I pull up the leggings to my knees, then dip my legs into the water. It’s silky and inviting. A longing rises in me to dive in, but I don’t dare.

  A part of me wants to stay, to let Luca take care of me and slay the demons that haunt me, only it doesn’t seem fair to him. And there will be a price for him to do it. There is no give without take. When I can’t give him what he wants, it will just be a case of trading all the smaller demons for one large one.

  Shaking my head, I sigh as I consider Luca Sabatini. He’s a gorgeous demon, and that makes him even more dangerous. He makes me want things I know I can’t have.

  I lose track of time, lost in my thoughts until slowly pink touches the sky. Fuck. Luca will be back soon. Fear kicks me in the stomach at the idea of seeing him again. I pull my legs out of the pool and push the leggings back down, then go inside.

  Phillips said “bedrooms,” which meant more than one. I go down the hallway and begin opening doors. One of them is locked, another is a large workout room, there is a large bathroom then another bedroom. It’s a mirror to Luca’s except it�
��s in white. Luca’s is in black and gray. Even though I know it’s a waste of time, I lock the door. Hopefully he’ll get the message and leave me alone until I’m ready to come out.

  Looking around, it’s a nice room. Plush white carpet lines the floor, where in Luca’s room the floor was wood with a few small carpets. This room also has the thick curtains that keep the light out, leaving the room as dark as if it were still night. I’m drawn to the bed. Not changing out of my clothes, I get on the bed then under the silky white sheet and comforter. It’s soft, but it doesn’t smell like Luca. God, I’m so pathetic. Slowly, without any plan, I slip into sleep.

  I’m woken by Luca picking me up. “What?” I moan as I find myself turning into his arms.

  Gently, he puts me down on the bed in his room, then pulls the covers back over me. “You sleep with me, Bella. Go back to sleep.”

  Is he crazy? I’m instantly alert but I don’t dare move. I watch him as he plugs in his cell phone, then gets in on the other side of the bed. My stomach is twisting, my heart thrashing wildly in my chest, yet I don’t dare do more than blink.

  It’s a massive bed. There could be four people between us. This time there is no light in the room at all. I can barely see him outlined in the darkness. He’s lying on his back with one hand on his stomach, the other on his chest. Warily I watch him, waiting for him to move.

  “Go to sleep, Bella.” His voice is low, soothing. “I won’t touch you again until you want me to.”

  That’s the problem... I want him to touch me.

  “Phillip mentioned you were at the pool but didn’t go in. I’ll make sure you get a swimsuit so you can swim tomorrow. The cameras will be turned off out there.”

  “Why would you have the cameras turned off?” I don’t tell him there’s no way in the world I’m wearing a swimsuit.

  “Because no one gets to see your body in a swimsuit but me.”