Everyone knows I’m there, yet no one acts like it. The energy always changes whenever I walk into a room. I don’t completely hate it. I’ve spent years building up my reputation and ruling this city, and this is part of being an underbelly boss.
I head down the stairs. They’re obnoxiously lined with plush red carpet, and the railings are shiny brass. It’s a throwback to earlier days. To when the first Boss moved into the city and decided this was the right place for him. An era I never knew, but through places like this, my heart feels familiar with.
We pass four bouncers, dressed in black suits. I slip off my damp coat, handing it to one of them as we pass, revealing my own black suit, only mine is silkier and tailored. I don’t even bother buttoning up my suit jacket. The second doorway dumps us into the casino’s main room. I cut through, veering to the left, ignoring the huge bar which takes up half the wall, even thoughI suddenly find myself so desperately thirsty for two fingers of top-shelf bourbon. A grunt of disappointment leaves me, or maybe it’s more of a frustrated one. Either way, telling myself I’ll get a whole fucking bottle the moment this is over does nothing to wash away my sour mood.
The next member of my security team raises a knowing brow at me as I near the door in the back corner. I swear I can even feel a smirk hidden below Lion’s masked expression. He’s all stone and angry, furrowed brow. His shoulders are so wide that they would make anyone think twice before messing with him. I’m just glad he’s one of mine, and that I keep my people happy enough to stay on my side.
Lion pulls the handle of the door, turning to the side and holding it open for Torrin and me. I hear the hard pat of Torrin’s hand against the bigger man’s shoulder. A greeting I no longer feel I’m allowed to do. Otherwise, people might think I’ve come to care about someone too much. It’s dangerous when you have enemies. Dangerous when those enemies think you have weaknesses. I might be a monster, but none of my people are expendable to me. I do see the value in the lives around me, even the ones I’ve ended by my own hands.
There he sits, one hand holding his fanned-out cards, the other lazily spinning the crystal glass holding the very bourbon I wish I were drinking.
He looks up like he is expecting me, and it sets me over the edge.
But I’m nothing if not a master of my emotions.
I smirk as I take a seat, keeping my eyes on him the entire time.
The table empties pretty quickly. Even the dealer goes scurrying away once I give her a nod of my chin.
“Mr. Aubert,” I say calmly, though all I can think about is how much I want to punch him in his bloated face. I want to stabhim through that silk pocket square and slash his throat. I want to see him bleed out all over his tacky suit he probably paid way too much for. I want to smirk down at his pathetic form as the life drains from his eyes. “I think you’ve unwisely walked into the wrong establishment. I would hate to think you are here, in my house, attempting to gamble when you owe me so much money already.”
We are two sharks circling each other. I can’t kill him, and he can’tgetto me to kill me.
“I’m afraid if I pay you, it would be like admitting an illegal place such as this exists,” he says as if he has me caught in his web. I’ll only let him think he has the upper hand. I didn’t get where I am by being quick to anger. I won’t let him get to me. “It’s all for fun if no money is gained or lost. Am I right? I would hate to see thislovely establishmentshut down.”
I grind my teeth. He sets his pudgy fingers on my clean table, and I’m itching to reach for my knife. With one good hack, there would be four sausage digits limply decorating the table. Then I’d take that gaudy fucking pinky ring and shove it down his throat until he chokes on it.
Greely Aubert might not run the city, but he is the master behind each puppet. He owns half the buildings in the city and too many businesses to count. He has people in his pocket I wish I had in mine. Like Mayor DuPont and the chief of police. Why he keeps raising the gun but never pulling the trigger is beyond me. But I will say, the threats have long gotten old.
“I hope we have an understanding.” His smug smile causes my lip to twitch with a sneer.
I could just pull my gun and shoot him between the eyes. Won’t be as exciting as making him die slowly, but it would get it done and over with faster. I do carry for those moments when I just don’t give enough shits to pull out my knife. I’m startingto think he’s already taken enough from me, and a quick death would be as if I’m spitting on him.
I grin at the thought.
It could all be over in a snap.
But he has protection from the city’s biggest players, and something more powerful beyond that. So, I keep my hands where they are and my gaze deadlocked onto him.
“I haven’t received yourRSVPfor my annual masquerade ball,” he says with a cocky air that would make most people think he doesn’t really give a shit. But I know better.
I don’t answer, and as the silent seconds tick on, the skin around his eyes becomes tight despite the calm he’s trying to exude. I know I’ve gotten under his skin. His party is under a week away, and even if I felt the need to play nice, it feels like it would be too late to even drop myRSVPin the mail at this point.
He knows I’ll be there whether I respond or not. But what I find interesting is the fact that he felt the need to come down here and make such a show of taunting me. He’s never once done this before in all the years he’s held his fucking parties. So, why now?
I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it, but I won’t let it show.
The smirk feels pinned in place on my face as I stare him down. This is my game and I always win it.
A commotion bubbles up behind me, stealing my attention. I turn in time to see the head of security for the casino stagger on his feet. Sonny’s chin is wet as if water dribbled out of his mouth. My eyes lock on the bottle of water as it slips from his grasp. It sounds like a gunshot as it hits the bar top before tumbling to the ground, water splashing out. His eyes are haunting as they meet mine from across the room.
I’m on my feet. The room feels far too big as I rush to him. Something’s wrong, but I have no clue what. I don’t seeblood anywhere. He’s fit and healthy, though I know that doesn’t always mean you can rule out a heart attack or stroke. I can’t explain it, but there’s a twist in my gut saying it’s not natural.
The scene erupts in chaos as Sonny falls to the ground. His eyes roll into the back of his head just as I drop to my knees beside him.
I call his name, but he doesn’t respond.
Torrin’s on the phone behind me. He’s yelling at them to hurry. I can only assume he’s called for an ambulance.
