But now, to be honest, her throbbing head made her regret last night’s decisions. Celestina rolled onto her back and attempted to smile at her personal assistant, as Diana drew back the fluttery white curtains, exposing the bright sunshine and the expansive view of the sweltering Las Vegas Strip from Celestina’s penthouse window.
“All right,” Celestina muttered softly, “All right, I’m awake, I promise.”
Flashes of last night came back to her gradually. The brawny shirtless DJ, the pink and blue strobe lights, the open second-story balcony overlooking a writhing, crowded dance floor. Celestina had lost track of her brother, lost track of time and lost track of herself. But her lasting impression from club LAX was an image of sensuous dark chocolate eyes smiling at her.
Were the eyes a memory, or from a dream?
Shaking her head to clear it, Celestina propped up on her elbows and swung her feet over the edge of the bed and into her satin slippers. Diana met her at the edge of the bed, neatly transferring a steaming ceramic mug of black coffee into her hands without spilling a drop. It was not the first time Celestina had been grateful for the efficient, straightforward Diana. Celestina took a deep breath of the coffee aroma before the first scalding sip shocked the rest of her brain awake.
“All right Diana, thank you.” Celestina padded softly toward the bathroom, slender fingers pressed against her throbbing temples. “You can begin the security briefing with Verona Security and I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes for the assessment of the money room. Make sure the contract is on my desk and ready to go. Oh, and a bottle of Advil, if you’d be so kind.”
Diana’s brows rose curiously, but kept her thoughts to herself. At Celestina’s grimace of dismissal, Diana followed the maid back out into the hallway without a word.
Left to her own devices at last, Celestina stepped out of her black silk chemise and into the hot cascade of the waiting shower. Steaming streams of water poured from invisible shelf-like fixtures on all three marble walls of the stall, evoking a pristine, sun-bleached waterfall. Soft peach-colored lights bathed the room in a flattering mystery. The lather from Celestina’s gardenia perfumed soap floated over her body and across the violet and scarlet geode-tiled floor.
It was the kind of opulence she was used to, but Celestina was too preoccupied with her thoughts to really enjoy her luxurious surroundings. She was finally remembering pieces of last night.
Those chocolate eyes had belonged to a man. She remembered him now, the rest of his face and body crashing back into her consciousness with a rush; an athletic man in ripped jeans and a tight black t-shirt, his arms covered in tattoos, his face a tantalizing mixture of laughter and diabolical trouble. Now, in the shower, she could summon the image of his cleft chin and arresting virility and almost feel the coil of energy in his hands.
Last night had been like a dream, a good dream. She’d spotted the man on the teeming dance floor from the wrought-iron balcony above, dancing circles around everyone else. At first it was just his speed and fervor that caught her eye, but soon she found herself fascinated by the passion and abandon with which he moved. He seemed to be alone in another world, utterly merged with the beat. His eyes were closed and oblivious to the presence of others. Watching him, she thought he looked completely alive in every particle of his body.
Celestina’s own body had clicked awake in observing him, her adrenaline spiking the way an explorer might feel if an unexpected lion crossed his path. The man on the dance floor was like some wild creature, his body a violent wave crashing into rocks, his face transfigured with an emotion Celestina couldn’t recognize but could envy with all her might. He seemed…lost. Absorbed. Disassociated. Free. Her mouth had fallen open in curiosity, her tongue wetting suddenly parched lips. The way he moved, and that mesmerizing, toned body…
Catching her eye by chance, the wild man had stopped cold in his tracks and stared, his face serious. The passion she’d seen was immediately contained in a vacuum of stillness, as if those dark eyes were the center of earth’s gravity. Celestina was pulled into the void she saw there and felt a bolt of energy split through her chest, a radiant excitement.
He’d grinned at her from that distance, over the heads of the drunken crowd, almost like he was asking a question. He gave her a small nod, his body tense. Intrigued by his gaze, her eyes smiled and she nodded back in answer. Then with a sudden dive, he’d plunged through the crowd and up the stairs until he faced her, his breath ragged and his eyes intense. He stood before her with the erect, striking bearing of a matador.
A prickling sense of recognition—or was it longing—tickled up Celestina’s spine at the sensation of his consuming proximity. Even the music seemed to fade, her work and the crowd faded until all that remained was an odd certainty that they were kindred creatures, she and this man; the same species, perhaps. A weight dropped off her shoulders when he reached her spot on the balcony.
Neither attempted to say a word over the thrumming base and din of the club. Instead, the man tucked his chin and quirked his eyebrows into inverted V’s, a formal and promising expression. Tucking one arm behind his back he extended the other, taking Celestina’s hand and bowing over it like some kind of old-fashioned aristocrat. She’d laughed but his face had remained serious as he kissed her hand. The brush of his lips was like the combustion of a match: sudden, hot and brief.
Without resistance or thought she followed his firm steps back down to the dance floor. For reasons she didn’t understand, Celestina had guided the magnetic stranger’s arms around her waist and strung her own around his shoulders and stared into his eyes. Their bodies rested inches away from each other, the space between charged and dangerous. Eyes wide open, Celestina leaned in to press her curves against him. With a sharp intake of breath he pushed her away, lifting her right hand in his left and planting his right palm on the small of her back. She’d sighed, excited by his control.
The DJ switched songs and an ambient tango piece boomed over the sound system. Celestina’s bones had shivered when one side of the man’s mouth curled up in a half-smile. Without averting his eyes from hers, he coaxed and lured Celestina’s body through the intricate and daring steps of a steamy dance. Celestina had surrendered to the movement, the scent of his skin, and the pressure of his fingertips on her back controlling her with the clarity, precision, and authority of a marionette’s manipulator. His body was achingly close but he never crossed the final inch between them. Somehow, it was the most erotic experience of her life.
When the music ended the DJ announced the club was closing. Celestina’s mysterious dance partner had raised his hands to her cheek, cupping her face, his eyes burning. People streamed around them, colliding with Celestina’s body, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot and her gaze was fixed on those flaming eyes. It was a small distance between their lips but neither moved closer, wary of being scorched.
Then Junior had materialized and killed the moment. With the force of a drunken ox he’d snatched Celestina’s hand, jerked her to the side, and pushed the stranger away roughly. Jarred and bereft by the abrupt break, Celestina had to put her arms around her brother’s shoulders to steer him away from his slurry tirade against her dance partner. The last thing they needed was a bar fight—how would they hide that from their father? As Celestina ushered her drunken brother to the door, she’d turned and strained her head over her shoulder to smile at her dance partner until he was lost in the faceless crowd. He’d stood motionless, watching her with that same intensity, like a black hole eating up the world.
That was when she’d felt the twinge in her neck, a bookend on the night smiting her consciousness with the reminder that she had to get back to the work of being an Auditore.
Now Celestina rubbed her fingers over her lumbar spine in the shower, smiling ruefully, remembering the man’s touch. In a way, it was the most intimacy she’d ever felt in her life even though he hadn’t even kissed her; her belly burned and dropped, imagining what it might have
felt like if he had.
She must be really out of practice to be so effected by one night out on the town.
“Back to reality,” she sighed, chastising herself. Snapping to attention, she shut off the shower and reached for an Egyptian cotton towel. “You don’t have time for this, Celestina.”
She quickly dried and dressed herself in the usual crisp black skirt suit from Dolce and Gabbana that she favored for work. Her hair was still wet but she was too hungry to dry it. She really only had time for one thing, and today the breakfast that the maid had lain out for her seemed much more important than good hair. She removed the silver filigreed lid from the fine china plate, revealing a Florentine egg-white omelet that was still piping hot. Brain food. She wolfed it down with relish and then chased it with orange juice and more black coffee.
Propelling herself toward the door, she wound her long damp tresses into a coil at the top of her head without even looking in the mirror. Satisfied, she pinned it in place with 18-carat gold sticks that she picked up from a genuine ivory tray on the console. She lifted her briefcase from where she’d left it on her entryway table, pulled on her black patent pumps, and was out the door.
By the time she stepped out of the elevator on the level of the casino floor it was precisely 2:10pm. Celestina’s blood red lipstick was flawlessly applied and her poise cleverly disguised any hints of the rowdy night before. Employees greeted her as she passed, the men more often than not glancing with surreptitious appreciation at her gently swaying hips from behind.
She joined Diana Nunez and a distinguished silver-haired gentleman who introduced himself as Mark Terrence of Verona Security. Smiling, she gestured for him to take a chair facing her desk as she settled in.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mark,” she began. “After so many phone and email interactions I feel like I know you already. Verona Security has been strongly recommended as the top in the security field and we are looking forward to working together. I’ve informed you in detail of the updates I have in mind for our chain of casinos. Before I can give you the tour of our facilities here at Caesar’s, I’ll need you to sign the non-disclosure agreement and the contract for services.”
Diana had done her job, as usual, and the documents were waiting on Celestina’s desk. With another professional smile, she pushed the papers across to Mark and waited.
He signed the papers without looking at them, his stormy blue eyes never leaving Celestina’s face. His expression seemed oddly tense, pleading. She immediately sensed that he was uncomfortable about something.
“I’m a practical man,” he said. “I agree to work for you under your terms, you agree to let me do my job under mine.” He laid down the pen and extended his hand.
Vaguely disconcerted, Celestina accepted his handshake. She made a mental note to assign her most senior security guards to the renovation crew. “Well, it is all on paper,” she said, smiling. “I’ll have a copy faxed to your office. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the belly of the beast.”
“Fantastic,” breathed Mark. “If you’ll permit me, my Security Operations Analyst is waiting in the front lobby and I’d like to go ahead and bring him along. That way he can begin to work on the nuts and bolts of the plans, get a jumpstart.”
“Of course.”
Celestina pressed an intercom. “Regina? Mr. Terrence’s Security Operations Analyst for Verona Security is sitting in your vicinity. Please escort him to meet us by the service elevator.”
Smiling, she motioned for Mark Terrence to precede her from the office. She took advantage of a spare moment to pop a couple of Aspirin and swig them down with coffee. Thank God Diana was on top of things.
While Celestina led Diana and Mark from the office to the elevator, she pointed out security cameras along the ceilings, at the table levels, and concealed in decorations. “This system has been fairly effective, but we’d like more facial recognition technology to help us keep track of persons who have been banned from casino property. Unfortunately, someone is always up to something.”
They came to the concealed elevator bank in a concrete hallway behind the bustling façade of the casino floor. Celestina absent-mindedly extended her red manicured fingers and pushed the down button. She was just about to ask Mark about the new motion sensors she’d ordered for the casino money room when she saw Regina approaching with his Security Analyst, and she froze in her tracks.
It was the dark-eyed man from the club the previous night.
Her mystery dance partner stood before her in the same jeans and t-shirt from the night before, a silver chain around his neck dipping down to concealment under his clothes. His eyes locked onto hers and those diabolical brows lifted into the same challenging V's she remembered from the dance floor. The only difference from last night was the setting of the casino, and the addition to his wardrobe of a grey button-down work shirt with the words Verona Security embroidered on the breast pocket. He had rolled the long sleeves up past his elbows, revealing the colorful tattoos etched across almost every inch of his exposed, muscled arms.
Celestina found herself wondering if all of him was illustrated like a living canvas, and indulged in a fantasy of tracing her tongue along the inked lines of his abdomen. At the thought, an intense wave of heat washed over her groin, and her muscles convulsed in her inner thighs. Her attraction to him was violent and immediate as it had been the night before. Her thoughts were inappropriate: extremely inappropriate, considering that the object of her lust was now looking curiously between her and Mr. Terrence, waiting. She had to remind herself that they were together in a professional environment and she was, ultimately, in charge.
Celestina swallowed slowly and extended a cool hand. She knew how to do this. “Celestina Auditore,” she purred, her voice low and contained. “Vice President of Casino Operations for Strip Kings LLC. Pleasure to meet you, mister…?”
His smoldering black eyes widened and flickered from Celestina’s eyes to her hand. “Auditore?”
The word came out like an almost mournful breeze. Celestina realized it was the first time she had heard his voice. It was deep and gruff and windy, almost a whisper, with the faintest hint of a Spanish accent washed thin by years and years of American English use. He was completely and oddly still for a moment, as if lost in his thoughts. His eyes darkened and swirled. And then the storm passed and his masculine energy rallied, splashing a lazy smile across his chiseled features. Celestina noticed that when he grinned his features changed like a shape-shifter, taking years off him. His eyes sparkled like fireworks that lit up the room. He took her hand and shook it with a slow, firm grasp.
“We’ve met before, haven’t we? I’m Jesse.”
She thought it odd that he didn’t offer a last name, and caught a questioning sidelong glance and uncomfortable fidget from Mark Terrence out of the corner of her eye. But she didn’t press it.
“Yes I believe we have, Jesse. Welcome.” Oddly pleased and unsettled that he remembered their encounter last night. Celestina stepped carefully into the elevator. “Please, gentlemen, follow me. The money room is our first priority for updates. As I was just explaining to Mr. Terrence, our security system is sadly outdated. Basically, it’s just a coded password, broken cameras and a burglar alarm. The cameras are mostly on the fritz and gave out completely yesterday. I’m very keen to add motion sensor lasers and the automatic cage response in case of breach, but most important is the facial recognition technology for entry and exit. That will eliminate most of our current liabilities.”
“Got too many cooks in the kitchen?” asked Jesse. Something about his tone made her wonder if he was only referring to the money room.
“Something like that,” she said.
Her heels clacked on the concrete hallway as she led the group through the underground labyrinth, past an interrogation room and the long narrow main surveillance room with screens cluttering the wall from floor to ceiling. She waved at William Dean, the onyx-skinned su
pervisor on duty. He smiled and waved back, his face changing subtly as he nodded at Mr. Terrence and Jesse. Finally Celestina turned the last corner, bringing the group to the subterranean safe that was the money room. Jesse seemed relaxed but alert, his eyes calculating each turn and pace.
“I’m sure I can sort that out for you,” he said. “I like simplicity, myself. Things get sticky with too many fingers in the pot. How many people do you need clearance for?”
Jesse watched Celestina type in the seven-digit password to unlock the outer door of the money room. She felt the hairs at the back of her neck prickle under his intense scrutiny. Mr. Terrence, Jesse, Celestina and Diana stepped into a small antechamber; the walls lined with sheet metal. A second code, eleven digits, opened the next door.
“Seven people will need access,” she said. “Myself, our President Cosmo Auditore, Cosmo Jr., our Vice President of Finance, Vince Schulz who handles all legal and marketing decisions, Mr. Charles Kang our overseas partner, and our two Senior Executive Assistants. We are a tight enough organization that either a board member or member of the executive staff can and shall be present for each transfer in or out of the casino’s bank. Our Senior Executive Assistants alternate twelve-hour shifts, so someone is always available should the need arise for access to the money room.”
“Odd,” commented Mr. Terrence, but he dared go no further.
Celestina knew that Mr. Terrence would realize as well as she how this system bypassed the usual controls, teams, and procedures most casinos followed to protect the gaming revenue and the money they were required to keep in-house to match each chip in the building. But he didn’t understand her father like she did. He was old school, and only trusted his close circle to be a part of the count.
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