"Thank you," he mumbles, impressing me with his manners as well.
"You're welcome. You want something to eat too?"
He shakes his head and drinks down the juice in big gulping swallows. An idea occurs to me. "Hey, if you could decorate your own room, what would it look like?"
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and I hand him a napkin. He tilts his head, deep in thought. "Whatever I want?"
"Anything." I agree. If he wants a damn slide down into his bed, I'll have the roof cut open and get it done. My little man deserves nothing less than everything.
"I saw something…" he looks at me, "Can I have your phone?"
Curious where this is going, I hand it to him. He scrunches his forehead up as he looks through it. "You don't have Pinterest."
"Pin… what?"
He taps like a little madman, then hands me the phone, "I need your passcode."
He's resourceful, too, it seems. I take it, type in the code, and hand it back. A few moments later, he has something pulled upon it and shows me the screen with the biggest grin I've ever seen.
There is a wall, made to look like a forest. On it run several clear tubes in different colors. A giant cage stands in the center of it, and the tubes all interconnect, some with little balls in between, and I realize it's a large running place for hamsters.
"That looks… awesome," I hedge. I like his hamster, because he likes the rodent, but having vermin in my house has never occurred to me before. "Do you think Hammie needs friends?"
My son looks at me with aduhexpression. "Hamsters are solitary animals."
Oh, thank fuck.
"I'll see what I can do about that," I promise.
"That would be cool." He nods, yawns again. He puts my phone on the counter. "I'm going back to bed."
I watch him return to his room, while pride swells in my chest. I give myself a minute to just relish the moment before I grab my phone, already moving. Enzo answers on the first ring.
"Boss."
"We need to talk," I greet in a calm voice. Too calm. "Now."
A pause. Just a fraction too long.
"I'm on my way," Enzo replies.
"Meet me in the boardroom." I don't want Jenna or Amauri anywhere near what might happen. I end the call. Whatever Enzo tells me next will decide something irreversible. Because if the truth I built my empire on is compromised, then I've been standing on a lie for ten years. And I don't forgive that.
Not of anyone. Not even Enzo.
The elevator doors slide shut behind me with a muted thud, sealing off the penthouse, sealing her off, sealing my son off.
The boardroom level opens, all glass, dark wood, and quiet authority. Enzo isn't here yet. It'll take him fifteen minutes, give or take. I don't sit. There's too much pent-up restlessness inmy body for that. Too much motion with nowhere to go. I pace the length of the long table once, twice, then drift toward the window.
My city stretches out below me. Las Vegas doesn't pretend to be innocent. She advertises her sins in neon, wears excess like perfume, dares you to underestimate her because you think you've seen it all before. People come here believing the rules don't apply. They're half right.
This city was chaos when I took it, fractured crews, borrowed power, men confusing noise for strength. I didn't tame it. I aligned it. Every street, every club, every casino now hums to the same rhythm. Mine.
My uncle ruled with fear and spectacle. Public punishments. Loud reminders. His sons would have done the same, broken bones in daylight, headlines as warnings. They believed power had to be seen to be respected.
I learned differently. Vegas thrives on illusion, but underneath it's built on control. Timing. Pressure. Knowing when to let people think they're winning.
I press my palm to the glass. Somewhere down there, people are waking up, making bad decisions, falling in love with strangers, losing money they don't have. They don't know how close they are to the machinery that keeps them safe from worse men than me.
