Master of Control (Gods of Vegas Book 5)

by Sienna Snow

  Then Opa Steven’s words echoed in my head. “Promise to keep the family going and not stray from the plans I’ve set in motion. Some things you won’t understand and will want to refuse to complete, but you must go through with them. Promise me, my boy. Let me see your Oma knowing our family’s future is safe.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I had no choice. I never went back on my word. I was going to have to marry this Eloisa Benz. God help both of us. The last thing any woman should want to do was join my family.

  Chapter Three

  Isa

  “Isa, where have you been?” My grandmother pushed me toward my father’s office. “Everyone’s been looking for you.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. I hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with whatever I’d done wrong today. I wished I was the debutante my parents wanted me to be, but it just wasn’t me. So, the best I could do was pretend. Well, at least in public.

  “I swear, Oma. I haven’t done anything this time.”

  She gave me a skeptical lift of her right brow. “Hasi, you know as well as I do your intentions are innocent, but your delivery has much to be desired.”

  I should’ve taken offense to my grandmother calling me a soft and cuddly rabbit at twenty-five, but it had been her term of endearment for me since I was a roly-poly baby who could barely walk on my chubby legs.

  “Papa only gets offended because I don’t do as he says. Women can do work and accomplish something even if they have the option not to.”

  “It isn’t done, Isa. You aren’t like other girls. If you were hurt or taken, it would destroy our family.”

  My shoulders slumped. I’d heard this nearly every day of my life. It was my burden as the only child of Russo Benz, and the fact I was female. If I’d been born the favored gender, none of the restrictions I lived with would have fallen on me.

  “I’m not as weak as everyone believes.”

  Instead of responding, Oma kissed my forehead and shoved me in the direction of the hallway that led to Papa’s office.

  It was a lost cause to get my Oma to understand that there was more to my life than finding the right match, or making the right social connections.

  The world around us had modernized, but the organized families with generations of history hadn’t evolved. I knew without a doubt, if anyone got wind of what I did on the regular, Papa would lock me in this house and have one of his guards on my ass at all times. Thankfully, the protection Papa had assigned to me since I was five was loyal to me. Plus, I paid them a hefty extra salary on top of what Papa gave them to keep my secrets.

  I approached the oversized wooden door to Papa’s office and knocked.

  “Come in, Schatz,” Papa called from the other side.

  No one would believe the man known for his ruthless control of his territory for over twenty-five years used pet names for his daughter.

  I entered, expecting Papa to be alone, but Mama sat in a chair across from him. She wrung her hands together and wouldn’t look me in the eyes. From the puffiness of her face, it was obvious she’d been crying, and Papa looked no better.

  I narrowed my gaze, worry creeping in. Mama rarely, if ever cried.

  “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

  “You did this. You tell Isa,” Papa said to Mama. The anger in his tone told me whatever was going on had been done behind his back. “The last thing I’d ever want was anyone from that family touching my daughter.”

  What the hell was going on?

  “Mama. What did you do?”

  Tears spilled down her face. “Please know I agreed to this when your Opa was alive. I never expected Arabella to die. I’d never have accepted the contract otherwise.”

  Arabella? She couldn’t mean Arabella Weber. She’d been Mama’s childhood best friend but had lost touch when she’d married Jonas Weber. Mama used to say that if Arabella’s first fiancé had lived, she would have been happy, instead of miserable with Jonas Weber. The fact that she was kidnapped, murdered, and her husband had done nothing to save her proved it.

  Did Mama just say contract? What the hell?

  “I’m not following. What contract?”

  Mama pulled a tissue from the box on Papa’s desk and dabbed her eyes.

  “Spit it out, Christina.”

  “I…I…” She hesitated.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Your mother and grandfather arranged your marriage to Sebastian Weber. I didn’t find out the details until Weber sent the contract to us, saying it was time.”

  “You have to be kidding me. I’m not getting married. I don’t even know the man.”

  Someone had to really be off their rocker to think I’d accept this without argument.

  “That’s not all. Marrying him means our families are joined. Since I don’t have a son, Weber’s son will take over the family upon my death. It means your child with Weber will eventually rule everything.”

  This couldn’t be real. No one did that shit anymore. No, that wasn’t true—no one in the world outside of families like mine did that shit anymore. But I never thought Mama of all people would agree to this.

  “I don’t understand. Why would Opa do this? Why would you?” I accused my mother. “I was fifteen when this was drawn up. And he was probably…I don’t even know how old this guy is.”

  Her eyes were filled with sadness, but I couldn’t care less. She’d never told me, never told any of us, and she put our whole family on the line. My heart ached. She knew I hadn’t been a traditional girl from the time I became a teen. I was the exact opposite of what a well-bred princess was.

  Instead of responding to the questions I wanted her to answer, she said, “He was nineteen.”

  “Did he know about it? Was I living all these years engaged?”

  “He didn’t know,” Papa said. “He’s about to learn this same news.”

  “This can’t be binding. It’s not legal.” I refused to accept this as my fate. But deep inside, I knew there was no getting out of it.

  “Schatz, I’m sorry. The contract was made by the heads of our families. Our honor depends on it. Your Opa wanted this and made it so we…you could not refuse.”

  My temper boiled over. “What does that mean?”

  “If you refuse, our business, holdings, everything transfers to the Webers. This part is very legal. If you accept, a trust with one hundred and fifty million Euros will transfer into our names. Yours and mine.”

  “And if he refuses?”

  “He won’t.” The tone of Papa’s voice made me think Sebastian Weber was as bad as his father. “He’s set to inherit everything. He will essentially control over half of Germany and parts of Poland and the Netherlands. No man would turn this down. Plus, Jonas Weber will inherit his own trust as a retired family head.”

  My stomach dropped. I didn’t want the money. I didn’t need the money. I made enough to support myself.

  None of that mattered. For my family, I was going to have to marry someone I’d never met, knew nothing about, and could only guess had a dark side. Who was I kidding? Most men raised in our world weren’t the nice, adoring kind. They were ruthless, took what they wanted, and had no qualms about using force, deadly or not.

  Papa had always been the exception in my eyes. Then again, I only focused on the man who raised me. Not the mobster I knew he was, with a territory that he expanded and kept in control using whatever force needed for twenty years. Papa doted on me. He would’ve loved more children, especially a son. But his love for Mama kept him from divorcing her or having a mistress who could give him children.

  “I won’t do it,” I snapped. “I’m not a child to take orders. I have a life, Papa. I’m not ready to marry anyone.”

  Papa’s gaze narrowed, giving me a glimpse of the boss everyone feared. “You will. I won’t let a simple marriage destroy everything I’ve built over the years. Until my dying day, I plan to hold our family together. We all have to make sacrifices. You
’ll make this one.”

  “But Papa—”

  “Isa, enough.” I jumped at the warning. “I’ve indulged you for far too long. You will do this for our family. You will marry him. And you will use whatever means necessary to gain leverage on that man. I will make him beholden to me, not the other way around.”

  I just stared at Papa, not believing the change in him. He’d never spoken to me this way.

  Yes, I’d grown up in a life of luxury and had been pampered, but I’d gone to school. Hell, I’d gone to graduate school. And to Oxford, no less. I’d made a career for myself as an art expert with a specialty in appraisal and authenticity. I could tell a fake from the real thing without batting an eyelash, no matter how good a copy. It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but it allowed me to work when I wanted and gave me the freedom to focus on my real business, one my father had no idea about, but I’d done it. I’d succeeded in a field dominated by men.

  It pissed me off to no end that my value was in my looks, my pedigree, my family. I’d wanted to be the son Papa never had, and it took me a long time to accept that I’d never had a chance in hell of taking over the family empire. The patriarchal way of things was generations old and wasn’t going to change anytime soon. But I never expected this.

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to sell my body to a man I have never met and use my sexual wiles to captivate him and find out anything that you can use as leverage to keep him in line. In other words, I’m a whore who’s been sold by my mother and grandfather to the highest bidder.”

  I couldn’t hide the anger I felt toward Mama, and I ignored the wince she gave at my words.

  Papa clenched his jaw. Good, I’d struck a nerve, and he hadn’t liked what I’d said. He could try that cold, unfeeling manner with everyone else but I knew my Papa was still under the mask he’d donned in front of my eyes.

  “Isa, I didn’t have a choice in whether I married your papa either,” my mother said in a low whisper. “But we grew to love each other.”

  “I don’t want to hear it.” I stood. I had to get out of here before I lost my ever-loving mind. “You knew how I felt. You knew I wasn’t the girl who did what everyone expected. I can’t be around you right now. Either of you.”

  I shot Papa an angry glare, and saw a flash of regret before he schooled it away.

  I wanted to run away and hide, but where would I go? Besides, I’d never been one to run away from issues.

  I turned and stalked to the door.

  The second my fingers closed around the doorknob, Papa said, “Your engagement is set. You’ll be Eloisa Weber by next spring.”

  I froze. That was eight months from now.

  Taking a deep breath, I glanced over my shoulder. “Then I guess I better start enjoying the last bit of my life as I know it. And I don’t want to meet the man until my wedding day. The last thing I want during the next eight months is a constant reminder of who’ll own my freedom.”

  Chapter Four

  Three Months Later

  Sebastian

  “Good to see you back in town.” A large man in a tailored suit approached me as I entered Verberne Schutzer, one of the newest underground clubs in Berlin. Unless a person knew someone or they were invited would they ever hear of the club or gain admission inside. This wasn’t the type of place with lines of people waiting outside, and anyone who learned of the location and tried to gain entrance was met with bouncers who were more than happy to explain they weren’t welcome.

  I clasped his offered hand. “Good to see you again, Justine.”

  “I see you’ve gotten some sun. It must be a nice change from the weather here. Let me guess—you were laid out on some tropical beach with cocktails and honeys around you.”

  If he only knew. My ribs still hurt from my last assignment and I’d just lost my best friend and partner, Adrian Kipos. The fucker had decided to retire from the job, which meant I was left high and dry. I couldn’t fault the man. He’d gotten back together with the only woman he’d ever loved and had known any future with her meant he had to leave the lifestyle. But it also meant I’d lost the only man who I trusted without question to watch my back.

  Adrian and I’d started at our agencies right out of college. As an American, Adrian signed on with the CIA, and my road took me the way of Interpol. We had our reasons for the paths we’d taken. Mine being the need to take down the man who’d let my mother die.

  “You could say something like that.”

  “I’m glad I could convince you to come check out the new club. The Boss has gone the extra mile with this one.” He gestured toward his right. “Let me take you to a table. I’ll see if the Boss is available to meet you.”

  Oh, I was going to meet “the Boss,” all right. I wanted to see how accurate the information I’d gathered was to the public image. She was the ultimate liability, and it was better to view her as a target.

  We walked down a dimly lit hallway until we reached a heavy metal door. Justine scanned his thumbprint on a reader and the doors opened, allowing the hip-hop beat of the DJ’s music to explode out.

  “What do you think?” Justine asked as we entered the club.

  I’d only seen one other place with this type of clean lines and sharp contrasts of light and dark colors. It was one of the clubs in Vegas run by the billionaire Lykaios brothers. The one thing that made this place different was the blatant sexual vibe. There were subtle sculptures tucked around the place depicting intimate yet chaste images of couples. It was a tease to the senses, as if one had entered a kink club instead of a dance club.

  “It’s definitely unique. Not something one would expect. But then again, I believe your boss was aiming for this effect on the patrons.”

  Justine grinned. “Exactly. The Boss has a way of creating an atmosphere that’s the exact opposite of what’s considered the norm.”

  “A rebel in the entertainment world.”

  We stopped near a set of couches strategically positioned in view of the dance floor but far enough away to give a small semblance of privacy.

  “It’s the only way to stand out in the crowd. Here you go. Make yourself comfortable. Nikita will be here in a few moments to take your order. I’ll go find the Boss and let her know to come over.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t sure if Justine realized he’d said “her” when referring to his boss. The owner was known for keeping a low profile, never letting anyone know she was a woman in a business run by men, especially in Germany. The nightclub world was as ruthless as the one I’d grown up in. But then again, “the Boss” was as experienced in the life as I was.

  I ordered my drink and watched the patrons of the club. Most were well-to-do, not the typical underground club goers. These people had money. They dressed casually, but the quality and brands of their clothing said enough.

  As I took in the decor, I studied the sculptures more closely. They looked more than the average knock-off of an ancient artist's design. One in particular looked exactly like something I’d seen in an auction catalog not so long ago. Either “the Boss” had money to burn or had commissioned a replica that looked identical to the real thing.

  The DJ switched the beat of the music to a hip-hop techno rhythm, a sound popular in Europe. The crowd thickened as they tried to find spots to lose themselves in the sounds booming from the carefully hidden speakers.

  “Will you need anything else, sir?” Nikita said as she set my drink in front of me.

  I shook my head and she left.

  That was when I saw her.

  This wasn’t the well-dressed and well-behaved princess the pictures had made her look like, or the tomboy in baggy pants that left the shooting range after practicing for hours.

  She was breathtaking, seductive, with an aura of innocence that made a man want to protect her.

  Fucking gorgeous.

  Her gaze landed on me, and my breath caught as if she’d knocked the wind out of me.

  I couldn’t believe this was the wo
man my mother and Opa had picked for me.

  Her black hair was loose in large waves, framing eyes so blue that they looked almost artificial. And those lips—they were full, pouty, and gave a man visions of the perfect uses for them. Her fitted dress was conservative enough not to reveal too much but high-fashion enough to look on-trend.

  Taking one last swallow of my whiskey, I rose from the couch and moved in her direction.

  She watched me take her in, holding my stare. There was a challenge there as well as interest.

  When I was a foot away from her, I offered her my hand without saying anything.

  After a moment of hesitation, she slid her palm over mine.

  The first touch was electric, and my cock immediately responded. Her breath hitched, and heat entered the deep cobalt irises.

  Holy fuck. What was happening?

  This attraction was nothing like anything I’d experienced before. The caveman side of me wanted to throw her over my shoulder and take her somewhere I could bury myself deep in her and make her call out my name as she came.

  This wasn’t what I’d expected when I’d come up with my half-cocked idea of meeting my bride-to-be.

  I curled my fingers around her small, almost too-delicate hand and led her toward the dance floor. As we worked our way through the crowd, I noticed how people moved aside the instant they caught sight of her. Everyone seemed to know who she was.

  I paused near the center of the dancing bodies, turning to face her. She shifted toward me and slid her free arm around my neck. Releasing her hand, I glided one arm around her waist, drawing her closer to me, and the other up her back.

  The music around us blared as we moved together, neither of us speaking, only letting this spark between us guide the dance. The press of her body to mine left no doubt of the need coursing through me.

  If I wasn’t careful, this woman would lead me around by the dick.

  She fucking smelled incredible, a hint of something floral and spiced. I resisted the urge to fist her hair and tilt her neck up so I could get a better sniff.