He reaches a hand out for mine. I try to steady my hand from the obvious nerves that want to reveal themselves. I’m nottypically an anxious person, but according to my cousin, who lives in Queens Coast, somewhere the High Rollers frequent, they’ve been known to deal on the shadier side of town. I’m sure she was embellishing her stories. Caleb wouldn’t work with them if they were shady. Right?Ugh, just do what Beth said, don’t show fear.
I go to give him my hand, but before we can make contact, a huge palm lands on the middle of my stomach and draws me back. A shiver wracks through my limbs as my back meets a hard chest.
Jack looks back at his friends with an amused grin, throwing up his palms in surrender. “Okay”—he chuckles—“that one’s spoken for.”
Gage drops his hand, but he doesn’t move away. It feels like electricity pulses between our bodies, and I almost forget how to breathe.
Jack tugs on the sleeves of his beige linen jacket and points a hand to the men lined up behind him.
“These are my business associates. Ace Carnell.” He points to a guy just as big as Gage but with sun-bleached hair tied back, and a white dress shirt that’s unbuttoned a fair way down his chest, revealing a map of colourful tattoos.
“James Huxley, who I’m sure you’re familiar with.”
James runs the casino back home in Heart City. It would have been easier to have met with him there, instead of travelling all the way to the other side of the country, but he has a long-standing animosity with Caleb. Apparently, James was in Royal Harbour for the month, and the application to approve the demolition of the theatre was already in motion. It was a case of they say jump, and we ask how high.
James’s hands are tucked casually into the pockets of his black dress pants, and his black hair is perfectly slicked back. He seems to favour black just as much as Gage, the harsh colourmaking his pale skin look almost translucent. Still, he carries himself with effortless charisma.
“And Romeo De Luca.” Ah, this is the one Beth mentioned. The open collar of his black shirt shows a lean, muscled chest. Gold chains hang against his bronzed skin, and his dark hair is swept to the side. Where Ace and James look calculating and Jack looks charming, Romeo looks aloof and wild. Definitely the troublemaker of the group.
The gentlemen each take a seat at the end of the table, with Jack settling at the head. He crosses an ankle over his knee and steeples his hands. “The floor is yours.”
Chapter three
“Do you think you couldtryto look happy about this?” Caleb says to me as we make our way through the casino. “I know that’s outside of your comfort zone, but we did just find out the High Rollers accepted our proposal.” Caleb lands a hand on my shoulder and squeezes before shaking me back and forth, loosening the emotional noose. “This is something to celebrate.”
After our meeting with the four friends yesterday, we weren’t sure where we stood. They gave nothing away, leaving me in a frustrated and sour mood for the rest of the afternoon.
Later in the evening, Jackson called Caleb and invited us out to dinner at one of the restaurants in the casino. We spoke more about our personal lives than the business, which is generally off limits for me. I don’t like talking about my past or opening myself up to judgement and speculation. Thankfully, the High Rollers love to talk about themselves and their accolades, the ones they can publicly talk about at least, which was fine until Romeo started flirting with my sister and Isabelle.
Beth gives as good as she gets on the outside, but on the inside, she’s scrutinising every word. I was kicking myself for not sitting next to Isabelle. Even if her perfume was hypnotising to my self-control, I could tell she wasn’t as well-practised as my sister in the presence of confident men. A mystery in itself. She’sabsolutely stunning. Like an angel, glowing every time a smile broke out on her face.
When Jackson called again today, he told Caleb they accepted our proposal and insisted we join them in the VIP lounge of one of their clubs to celebrate. I don’t really drink, apart from the occasional beers at family dinner. But I never drink to get drunk. I can’t be in a place where I don’t have control again. I need to be able to keep people safe.
That’s part of the reason I always stay at my bar until we close. To make sure everyone gets home safely. I employ extra guys at the door to walk people to taxis and rideshares. I’ve left my bar in the hands of my youngest brother, Mason, and one of my best bartenders, Keeley, while I’m here for the weekend. I trust them to look after the place like I would.To a certain degree.
We navigate through the casino until we reach a set of tall doors upholstered in dark grey velvet. Diamond tufting and gold handles add to the opulent design, and in white neon font, fixed to the front, it saysBeginner’s Luck.
Two men behind a podium are stationed next to the doors. With his usual confidence, my brother struts right up to them.
“Caleb Heart. We’re here to see Jackson King.”
The men, with absolutely no fanfare, type against the screen in front of them. With a nod of the first guy’s head, the other one moves to open the doors.
Caleb smiles back at us before leading us in. When the doors close behind us, we’re plunged into near darkness. A soft beat carries through the hallway, lit up by gold lanterns mounted on the velvet upholstered walls.
“Do they expect many people to be bashing their heads against the wall in this place or something?” I grumble as we follow Caleb’s lead.
A small chuckle erupts a few steps in front of me, halting the storm and inviting calm for just a moment as the sound penetrates my bloodstream. I close my eyes and welcome thedistraction, sweet citrus washing over me like a balm, before I shake it off and command the control back.
The hallway twists and turns for an unnecessary amount of time, considering we already walked through the front doors, but as the music gets louder, we finally find ourselves in front of a set of drapes.
Caleb pulls them back, and we step into what feels like another world. We’re standing on a balcony that looks down onto a nightclub floor. Blue and white lights cross the open dance floor below, where bodies turn and grind. Couples are lost in a haze of lust as they dance against each other. Lounges sit along the outskirts of the dance floor, and booths line the walls where more people sit, heads leaning in close as they flirt and tease.
“This place looks like live actionTinder,” Beth says.
“Is there a wristband or something I can get that saysobserver only?” I hear Isabelle say in my sister’s ear.
“Yeah. It’s called my brother.” Beth turns to her right and heads for the staircase leading down, and I’m left wondering which brother she might be talking about. In the short time I’ve been around Isabelle, I can’t help but want to claim that protective role for myself. It’s in my nature. Whether it’s honourable right now or not is another question.
