by Renee Rose
“Get out of Vegas, Sondra Simonson.”
That was the last thing I expected him to say after bringing me to orgasm with his clever mouth and fingers. Before he’s gotten off.
He continues to make love to my breasts, squeezing them, thumbing my nipples. He lunges over me to flick his tongue over one stiff bud. “You’re too bright a light for a seedy place like this. It will tarnish you.” Another flick of his tongue. “I will tarnish you.”
His words aren’t jiving with his actions, so my brain is slow to catch up. What is he telling me?
“You came here for a fresh start. Your cousin’s here. I get it. But you should’ve gone home to Marshall, Michigan, baby.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows where I’m from, but hearing it sends a tingle up my spine. It’s partly fear—or the awareness of how dangerous this man is. How thoroughly he researched me. But there’s also an excitement in being the object of such intense scrutiny. Because clearly, he’s into me.
He watches me intently as he tugs and rolls my nipples. There’s conflict in his expression, or tension, and it grows exponentially every second. Suddenly, everything hardens. His jaw tightens, focus goes steely. “I’ll give you money for a fresh start.” He slaps my breast, and I cry out with surprise. “It’s not payment for sex, so don’t even go there.” He points a warning finger at me. “I want you to take it and get out of town. Don’t come back, piccolina.”
I finally rouse myself past my orgasmic languor and push my back off the couch where I’m slumped. “What are you saying?” I frown at him. I can’t figure out if he’s threatening me or trying to help. I can’t figure out what in the hell is going on here.
Nico moves in a flash, gripping under my armpits. Suddenly, I’m horizontal on the couch and he’s looming over me. He slaps my breast again and I squirm beneath him, my hips bucking up to meet his. “I’m saying…” He rubs the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m saying you should get out of here. I’m way too locked onto you, bambina. This is the last chance I’m gonna give you to run.” His eyes glitter dark and dangerous. “You set foot in this suite again, I’m going to claim you as mine. I’ll chain you to my bed and fuck you every goddamn minute of the day.”
I go still beneath him. My heart pounds against my ribs. I’d be lying if I said his words didn’t thrill me. Oh, I hear the danger beneath them. The threat. But also, so much desire.
I’ve never been wanted this much by any man. I’ve always been the sort of pathetic, under-appreciated girlfriend. The one who catches her guy cheating with multiple women.
Knowing he wants me this much flushes me with heat. With power.
He gives a single nod. “You understand me.” He eases off me and stands. With the gentleness of a parent dressing a small child, he slides my bra back over my breasts and zips my zipper.
He stands over me, as dark and forbidding as he’d been that first day. “I’m letting you go, Sondra Simonson.” It’s a pronouncement—like he’s some kind of god, which, in his world, he is. I can imagine his employees falling to their knees when he speaks. “Run while you still can. Because once I decide you’re mine, I will ruin you. Be sure of it.” He stares at me a moment longer, his throat working, then turns away.
His shoulders slump as he picks up my discarded panties from the floor and hands them to me.
My stomach knots and twists. The energy between us tangles, torques. There’s so much in his words to dissect. He’s letting me off the hook. Giving me an out. Or is he making me an offer? Or an ultimatum?
I can’t figure it out, and I suddenly want to get the hell out of there. I yank on my panties without looking at him and stand up. I head toward the door, and he meets me at my cart and thrusts a neatly wrapped stack of hundred-dollar bills at me. “Take it,” he says.
I jerk back like he slapped me.
“It’s not a payment, it’s a gift. Make a new start somewhere else. Not in my casino.”
I ignore him and push my cart toward the door.
He catches my arm and turns me around. “Sondra. Take it.” His chocolate brown eyes implore.
My nose burns and I shake my head. “I don’t want your money.” My throat is tight, although I have no reason to be upset. He gave me an orgasm and offered me money, which I really could use. Why, then, do I feel like I just got used and dumped?
“Please take it. It’s nothing to me and it would give you options. I just want you to have options, Sondra. I don’t want you to to make choices you’ll regret.”
I arch my brows. “Like what I just did with you?” I snap. “Well, it’s too late for that.”
I don’t know why I’m pissed, but I am. I guess the offer of money does cheapen everything. Or maybe I’m mad he thinks he can make decisions about my life without consulting me. Either way, I’ve had it. I knew my infatuation with Nico Tacone was a mistake, and I need to crush it now before I get hurt even more.
“Sondra.” His voice carries so much quiet command, I stop, my hand on the door handle.
“I’m sorry if I hurt or humiliated you. That wasn’t my intent.”
I don’t know why I’m surprised to hear such emotional maturity out of a mob boss, but I am.
I shrug. “I’ll get over it.” I pull the door open and push my cart through.
“I’m not sorry for the rest of it,” I hear him say just as I shut the door.
Chapter 5
Nico
I’m itchy and ready to put my fist through the wall for the first thirty minutes after she leaves.
I hurt her. It was there, all over her face. I fucking tried to do the right thing, but she didn’t see it that way.
And somehow hurting her is less conscionable than anything else. But the real question is—why was she hurt? Because I offered the money? Did I make her feel like a whore? I tried to be clear it wasn’t because she let me into her panties. Or was it something else? Rejection?
Fuck, she doesn’t deserve that.
And then the need to fix it takes over, way stronger than my desire to do the right thing for her. Or maybe I’m just a greedy bastard who’s pretending he gives a fuck about anybody but himself.
I can’t stay away from Sondra Simonson.
I pick up my phone and call security. “I need the location on an employee.” All of our employee name tags have tracking devices and the information on where they are in the casino is easy to pull up. It’s also recorded so we know where everyone’s been in the case of an incident.
“Sure thing, Mr. Tacone, who are you looking for?”
“Name is Sondra Simonson. She works in housekeeping.”
A pause. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tacone, it looks like she’s off-premises.”
Fuck. She quit.
I told her to. I shouldn’t feel like flipping my desk over or heaving my chair through the glass door to my balcony.
She’s smart. She heeded my warning.
Just to be sure, I hang up and call the manager of housekeeping. “I’m looking for one of your employees—Sondra Simonson. Is she working today?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Tacone, she said she wasn’t feeling well. I let her go home early. I sent Jenny up to clean the penthouse suites. Sondra told me she finished with yours—was that not true? Is there something else you need?”
She didn’t quit. She went home sick.
“No, everything’s fine.” I end the call and stare at my phone. The idea of Sondra being upset enough to leave has me ready to fly out the door to chase her down. But I’m also relieved she didn’t quit.
What does it mean?
Is she thinking about coming back here? After I made it plain what would happen? Fuck.
I really don’t want to dim her light. But I should assuage any hurt feelings.
I call down to the casino florist. “I need three dozen roses delivered off-site right away.”
“Of course, Mr. Tacone. Where are they going?”
I grab Sondra’s file and read off her address.
“Color?”
“You pick.”
“Note on the card?”
I hesitate. What in the hell do I say? I blow out my breath. “How about… Can I take you to dinner tonight? And sign it, Nico.”
“Perfect, Mr. Tacone, I’ll send them out straight away.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up.
What am I doing? Now I want to take her to dinner? After I just tried to set her free? Fuck. I’m so fucked in the head over this woman, it’s embarrassing.
I have a full-on infatuation with a woman I will likely destroy.
Sondra
I take the bus home. I didn’t stop to tell Corey I was leaving because I need to get my head on straight. I didn’t want to answer her questions about what happened and what I’m going to do.
I should quit.
He made it plain I should quit.
He also made it plain how much he wants me. Not just a one and done, either.
He wants to keep me.
At least that’s what I read into his threats.
And damn if that doesn’t appeal to me on some level. I’ve never had a man be so into me. I’ve been the girl who was easy to walk away from. Easy to cheat on.
And so part of me thinks I should defy him and just show up tomorrow. Dare him to make good on his threat.
But the rest of me can’t take another emotional roller coaster. The possession and then rejection.
I get off at my stop and walk the six blocks to Corey’s townhouse.
And…fuck. Dean’s car is there. I was really hoping to have the place to myself. I literally have not been alone since I moved to Vegas. Not unless you count when I’m cleaning rooms.
And if I ever needed some alone time, it’s now.
I almost keep walking. But it’s hot out. And I want a shower. I need to wash Tacone off of me. Wash this day off me.
I walk in and find Dean on the couch watching television. His face lights up with a lazy grin. “Hey, Sondra.”
Okay, yeah. He sounds a little too happy to see me.
“Hey,” I mumble and grab a change of clothes from my suitcase beside the sofa. I walk past him to the bathroom.
He gets up and follows me. “I didn’t think you’d be home today.”
I ignore him and shut the bathroom door. Prick. I turn on the shower and let the water run. Maybe I’m being bitchy, but it’s getting harder and harder to even be polite to Dean. I don’t like the guy and he’s giving me the creeps.
I take off my clothes and get in the shower, but any satisfaction I was hoping to derive from the water therapy is completed cancelled out by the knowledge that Dean is just beyond the door.
If there had been a peephole, he’d probably look through it.
Gross.
I end up cutting the shower short and hustling to get dressed. Maybe I will take that walk. It’s like I can sense the omnipresent Dean energy seeping through the door. I seriously need some space.
When I walk out, I’m greeted by the sight of not one bouquet of roses, but three.
And one very sour looking Dean.
“Are these from your boss?” he demands. The asshole has opened the card. He tosses it to me. It flutters to the floor at my feet.
I stoop to pick it up and read it.
Nico Tacone is asking me to dinner? After he just ejected me from his suite?
This day couldn’t get weirder.
“What did you do to make him send you roses?” Dean asks. When he takes a step closer, it feels menacing.
I don’t like the insinuation. “Nothing.”
Dean’s scoff is derisive. “Yeah, right. Did you have sex with him?” He grabs my arm. “You should be careful. Did you know he’s mafia?”
I twist to get out of his grip, but he closes his fingers tighter. “Ouch,” I protest. “Get off me.”
He steps even closer, leaning down so we’re nose to nose. “I think you’re real hot, Sondra,” he says. His breath smells like Doritos. “I’m sure Tacone does too.”
Again I try to pull away, but Dean holds me fast.
“Let go of me,” I snap.
“I love that you and Corey are cousins,” he says, backing me up against the wall. “It’s almost as good as doing twins.”
“You’re not going to do me, so get that idea out of your head.” My indignation is turning to panic now. I thought Dean was sleazy, but I didn’t think he was the kind of guy to force a girl. But clearly I got it wrong. Because any normal guy would’ve let me go when I asked him to.
His fingers squeeze with bruising strength around my arm. He reaches his other hand between my legs.
“Get. The fuck. Off me.” I’m genuinely struggling now, twisting to try to get out of his grasp, trying unsuccessfully to knee him in the nuts. He slams me against the wall.
A loud knock sounds on the door, and it provides just enough distraction for me to duck and wrench my arm out of his grasp. I run for the door like whoever is standing on the other side is my salvation.
“Sondra.”
I ignore Dean’s hiss and throw open the door, planning to run out under the protection of whoever is standing there.
I had no idea that person would be Nico Tacone.
I bump into him in my haste to step out and he catches me, brows dropping. He looks past me into the townhouse and his frown deepens.
“What’s going on? Are you upset?” He steps back to survey me and doesn’t miss the angry red marks on my arms.
That’s all it takes. I didn’t even say a word, but he goes marching into the townhouse and clocks Dean.
There’s a sickening crunch of bone as his nose breaks and he goes flying back, stumbling against the couch and slipping to the ground. Tacone follows him and picks him up by his shirt to deck him again.
“Okay!” I yell. “Stop.” I grab Tacone’s arm.
He pauses to look at me. He’s in his full designer suit, but he hasn’t broken a sweat. “Sondra, go wait in the car.” His voice is perfectly even, like meting out violent justice is all in a day’s work for him. Which it probably is.
Oh Jesus. He’s going to kill Dean.
I may be pissed off at what Dean did to me, but I already feel like we’re even. I mean, the guy has blood gushing from his nose and he’s on his ass.
“No.” I attempt to tug Tacone toward the door. “Let’s get that dinner. That sounded nice.”
He drops Dean to the floor and straightens to face me. “Who is this guy? Did he hurt you?”
I wince because I know the answer is going to cause more violence. “He’s my cousin’s boyfriend. Please—can we go?”
Tacone reaches in his jacket. I know what he’s going to pull out before he produces the gun because I’ve had the thing pointed at my head. He leans over and presses the barrel against Dean’s temple. “Get out of here.”
As terrified as Dean appears, he still sputters, “This is my place.”
Tacone pistol whips him. “I said, get out of here. Get your shit. Move out. If you ever come near Sondra or her cousin again, I’ll fucking kill you. Do you understand me?”
Dean doesn’t answer fast enough and Tacone pulls the gun back to pistol whip him again. “Okay! I’m leaving!” He puts his hands in the air and slowly crawls to his feet.
Tacone doesn’t take his eyes off Dean, but he murmurs to me, “Is that your bag, baby?”
It takes me a second to understand, but then I realize he’s talking about my open suitcase beside the couch.
“Yeah. Yes, it is.”
Tacone puts the gun back in the holster under his arm and strides over to the suitcase, closing it with a decisive zip.
I’m trembling like a leaf, possibly going into as much shock as I experienced the first time I saw Tacone’s gun.
“Get in the car, baby.” He grabs my suitcase by the handle and lifts his chin toward the door.
My knees wobble as I walk, but I manage to pick up my purse and toddle to the door. Tacone
’s right behind me, carrying my suitcase. Neither of us look back as we go out.
Nico
I had some romantic notion about treating Sondra like a lady and taking her on a date. That idea died a quick death when I saw the flare of fear in her eyes and the marks on her arms.
Fucking bastard. I seriously want to kill the motherfucker for handling my girl.
Yeah, I may have been trying to pretend I hadn’t already claimed Sondra Simonson, but I have.
It’s too late for her.
The devil takes what the devil wants. And I want her.
I have the power of dark fury still running through my veins, which makes me feel invincible, but I try to rein it back.
Sondra’s terrified. As scared as she was the day I met her. Fuck. Was it because of me? What I did back there? I have to remember she’s not used to seeing guys get their noses broken.
I throw her suitcase in the trunk of the Lamborghini and open the passenger door for her. After I get in the driver side and start the car, I have to ask, “Sondra, he didn’t—”
“No.” She shakes her head. And then, to my utter demolishment, she bursts into tears.
“Baby.” My hands grip the steering wheel tight enough to crush it. “Fuck.”
“I’m okay.” She sniffs. “It’s just been a long day.”
“I’m sorry. I know I’m part of that. Or maybe all of it?” I give her a sidelong glance.
She shakes her head.
Thank fuck.
“Y-you’re not going to...do anything else to him. Right?”
Do I want to whack the guy? Totally. If she told me he’d raped her, I definitely would. But no. The whole reason I left Chicago to open a casino in Vegas was because I wanted to get out of the underworld. I run a legit business. I keep the blood off my hands as much as possible.
“You want me to do anything else?” I just want to be sure.
She shakes her head quickly. No surprise there.