Owe him big.
What did that mean…exactly? I wasn’t sure what he was going to take from me as payment. Would I owe him sexual favors? Or work at his gorgeous hotel cleaning toilets for the rest of my life?
He left me alone again in the ice room before I could ask him to elaborate. The man who’d yanked me from the casino and brought me back here had called it a holding cell, but I was sure if water dripped from the ceiling, snowflakes would form. In Las Vegas.
The waiting was working on my nerves because each time Big left and then came back, my bones would jump and knock against my skin.
His entrances weren’t big, but huge.
He had that in common with his grandfather. I’d never met him, but judging by his photos, his presence was larger than life. The younger Bigatti inherited the same.
What I hadn’t expected, though, was him. Tullio Bigatti the younger.
That was why I was so confused at first. Mr. Big was burly and looked like he wore the smell of cigars as his cologne. Tullio Bigatti the younger was fine as hell. I’d noticed him watching me in Paradiso, and it was hard to keep my eyes off him.
He was debonair, with dark hair that was styled in a suave comb-over with a hard part. His eyes were a mixture of blue and green, though it depended on the light which way the color wheel tilted.
His face seemed chiseled out of stone, his jaw and over his mouth stubbled with the perfect amount of hair. His body was a replica of his face. He seemed to have an athletic build, slender but muscular, like he ran many miles a day and lifted heavy weights, but it was only for the health benefits. He seemed naturally built that way.
Unshakable confidence existed underneath his exterior. It oozed out like a masculine scent. Maybe it was in the way he carried himself, even the way he talked, but it was smooth and undeniable.
Altogether, he was stunning. A real fantasy in the flesh.
That was where the attraction ended, though. I’d sworn off men after the last guy I trusted stole all my groceries and ran off with my family-sized pack of toilet paper.
On a fucking motorcycle, no less.
What kind of man rides around Vegas with a huge pack of crap paper on the back of his bike?
A shitwas what Georgia had called him.
I’d be prepared for Big this time, though. I stood, facing the door. A minute or two later he strode in, stealing my breath again.
It’s just his looks…just his looks…was my new mantra because it felt like he was trying to put some kind of Italian charm on me.
I felt shameful. The man had ordered my brother to be hurt, and I’d melted in his arms like candle wax when he’d kissed me. And when he called me Aphrodite too. I’d never been a sucker for cutesy nicknames, but that one got me. Or maybe it was just the way he said it. Like he truly saw that in me.
He took my hand and pulled me toward a table. He set my left hand down on it and made me splay my fingers.
Oh shit.Was he going to chop my hand off for stealing like they did in the olden days? I could see him doing that. He’d probably think it was poetic justice.
His man, Mr. Umberto Rizzo, came in with a huge ass knife and a ring box.
Since I knew my brother would be okay, it was the first time I felt real fear in Big’s presence. Gio got the nickname of being buggy because he snapped and was impulsive. Big didn’t seem to be impulsive, but they shared the legendary buggy twitch when they were about to snap. I’d seen it on Big’s face when he’d asked me about the man who’d manhandled me, and he’d come back covered in blood splatters after we talked about it.
I didn’t quite see it on Big’s face in that moment, but there was something still crazed about his eyes. Or maybe his demeanor.
“This or that, Aphrodite.” He nodded to the two choices. “Take your pick.”
“A knife or a ring box? This feels like a trick question.” I looked away from Big and toward where Mr. Rizzo was, but he must have quietly exited the room.
“Plain and simple. You pick the knife—you lose your left hand.”
“If I pick the ring box?”
He opened it, and the biggest diamond I’d ever seen reflected the bright light and almost blinded me. The center was a huge, round-cut diamond with a halo of diamonds around it.
“You wear my ring on your finger—forever.”
