He follows me over the edge with a low groan, his body tensing before he collapses onto me. I feel the warm rush of him filling me, and a wave of possessiveness washes over me.
His.
Chapter Twenty
Roberto
My office in the Regent sits off a short hall that staff won’t wander into by accident. You find it because you belong in it, or because I asked you to.
Inside, the room is set up just the way I like it. Walnut paneling runs shoulder-high, not glossy, just enough sheen to catch your eye. Above it, a deep, unsentimental blue. The desk is a slab of the same walnut with a leather inlay worn the way a good glove is worn. I had it built to a height that suits me. The chair behind it is black leather, deep, comfortable; the two in front are lower, comfortable enough that no one gets nervous, not so soft they forget why they’re here.
A built-in along one wall holds what I need: law books that actually get used, a row of gaming manuals with tabs like flags, binders. A credenza under the shelves holds the rest: bottled water, a cut-glass decanter I barely touch, a tray with three heavy tumblers, a small espresso machine that is worth more thanthe first car I bought.
The carpet is dark and quiet. A long window sits high on the far wall, tinted enough that time can’t make its way in unless I let it.
The room smells faintly of leather, paper, and the faint clean bite of fresh paint that will fade with time.
Nothing here is decorative. It’s all functional.
I set my phone on the desk, unlock the center drawer, and pull out the day’s first folder. I lay the licenses out left to right, edges aligned. Commission. Municipal. Liquor. Health. Fire. Every seal where it belongs, signatures in the right ink. Dates clean. I’ve checked them already. I check again.
Nothing can go wrong with the grand opening tonight. It’s my job to make sure of that, and I don’t take it lightly.
I think about Olivia again. It hits me quickly, just as it has every time I’ve thought of her this week. That’s really all I’ve been able to do—think about her. Since Friday, we’ve been too busy to do anything else, completely focused on the grand opening.
And it’ll finally be here in just a few hours. Olivia’s been running around all week, making sure all last-minute details are set and perfect. Whenever she’s not doing that, Caterina is giving her something else to do. Caterina runs things like a military general, and I don’t exactly blame her.
This is the biggest thing we’ve done so far. We’ve sunk a lot of money into this, with the idea that it’ll be paying off in spades, and we can’t afford to screw anything up. I’ve had my workcut out for me making sure all the paperwork is in place and everything goes off without a hitch.
The fact is, we didn’t build this place just to pour drinks and smile for the cameras. A casino makes a lot of money—a lot of cash. It gives the Family something we’ve never had at this scale: a legitimate engine big enough to runotherbusinesses alongside it.
Some cash can’t sit on a ledger with its real name. Here, it doesn’t have to. Here, some of it comes in dirty, and is fresh and clean when it goes out.
High rollers, markers, junkets, comps—normal words people expect to hear when they talk about a casino. They create movement. They create reasons. Money arrives, gets counted, gets exchanged, gets spent. By the end of the night it belongs to the house, to the guests, to vendors. No one needs to ask where it started, only where it finishes.
That’s the point.
My job is to make sure the public story is tight enough that nobody digs around for a second one. Hold stays in range. VIPs are happy. Taxes get paid. Charities get thanked. The Family gets what it needs without anyone outside the circle feeling the shift. If I do this right, the opening is the last time anyone looks closely. After that, the place just works—exactly the way we planned.
I welcome good chaos in a controlled environment. Todaywill be exactly that.
Caterina is built for the spotlight in a way I never was; she’s been choreographing the opening like a general staging a parade. Olivia has been the set hand that turns orders into realities.
If Caterina is the fire, Olivia has been the water we need to make steam, not smoke. The two of them together could run a country.
I think of Olivia at dawn two days ago, hair in a knot, headset crooked at her neck because she hates wearing it, shoulders squared like a small army pushing a siege tower. She didn’t see me. I watched her direct three teams in under a minute without raising her voice once.
We haven’t had a minute together since the last time we were at my house the morning after. The glorious day we spent sitting around my house while she did what needed to be done, and I just reveled in watching her.
Despite that, I’ve made sure to check in on her as much as possible. Sometimes she knew it; others, she didn’t.
I want to see her today and I won’t, not the way I want. That’s the discipline. That’s the cost.
I finish double- and triple-checking everything, then slide my folders back into the drawer and turn the key.
I take one last look at my office and step into the hall, locking the door behind me. The hotel will be filled tonight, and it’s time for me to get ready, put on my tux and my mask of charm. Whether we’re ready or not, it’s here, and there’s no going back.
Chapter Twenty One
