As the elevator doors hissed shut, I didn't slump. I pulled my phone from my clutch, watching the progress bar on the secure app.
I had Zeno’s private payroll. I had the names of his silent partners. He thought he was sending a lamb to Thal’s slaughter, but he’d forgotten one thing.
He was the one who had taught me that information is the only currency that matters in Vegas. I wasn't just trapped between two monsters anymore. I was becoming the one they should both be afraid of.
Three
THAL’S PROPOSITION
THAL
The deep amber whiskey swirled in slow circles at the bottom of my glass, my third of the night. I signaled to the waitress for another pour and relaxed my gaze back to the crowd at the Chéri, the rooftop lounge atop the Paris Hotel.
It was a typical Friday night, and the place buzzed with youthful energy. The patrons filling the open-air space under the fake Eiffel Tower danced to the beats from the DJ set up along the edge of the floor, their bodies moving with the pulsing bass, their skin illuminated by flashing neon lights that made the full moon overhead seem dim in comparison.
Round tables covered with crisp white linen tablecloths lined the perimeter, each filled with groups of tourists indulging in caviar, lobster beignets, and champagne.
It was almost enough to make me feel festive.
Almost.
But I didn’t have the luxury of indulging in my hedonistic urges, even though the warm whiskey buzz was slowly travelingthrough my veins and tempting me to surrender to an evening of debauchery on this clear, warm Vegas night.
I was on a mission and couldn’t lose focus.
It had been told to me that this nightclub was one of Daphne’s favorites, and in fact, it was rare for a Friday night to pass without her showing up. As I looked at every face in sight, I realized I wasn’t surprised.
Daphne was the kind of woman who could easily get lost in a place like this. I imagined her dancing freely, with her head thrown back in joy, slightly buzzed, very happy, and completely blissful. I pictured her hips moving in rhythm to the music, her hair flowing around her beautiful face, her body writhing sensuously.
I’d experienced all that and more in paradise with her. I still wasn’t sure if it felt like paradise because she was there or because of our location. I suspected it was her presence that made those memories so vivid and alive in my mind.
My cock twitched in my slacks, and I inhaled sharply.
But that was a long time ago.
Even now, I wonder sometimes if it was all just a dream.
Still, my feelings for Daphne never felt as incredible as they did when I was with her.
No. What had happened between us was real. It was rare. Nothing could change that, no matter how many times I tried to wish it away.
If I’d never met Daphne, everything would have been so different. But I had met her, and now I was paying for it.
If I knew what was best for me, I’d forget her. I’d walk out of this damn nightclub and never think about her again. But my brain and body betrayed me, leaving me in a constant, torturous state of thinking about her all the time. I’d somehow convinced myself that we needed each other.
The waitress brought my drink, and I tried to pace myself, taking small sips instead of downing the whole thing at once like I truly wanted to. I leaned against the railing, scanning the faces of everyone who stepped onto the rooftop, each one stabbing me with disappointment as I realized they weren’t Daphne.
I let my eyes wander for a moment, my gaze drifting to the bustling street below. From up here, the tourists looked like a line of ants marching along the road, going in and out on escalators, their tiny figures shifting color with the flashing lights of the Las Vegas strip. The brake lights of cars moving down the street formed a continuous line of red that I could trace with my finger.
Vegas was nothing if not predictable.
Every day, crowds of tourists spill out of hotels and line the sidewalks. They wander through casinos and malls like zombies, with their eyes averted and their attention stolen by the endless glow of flashing lights along their paths. Workers open cafes, dealers sit at poker tables, roulette wheels spin, and visitors come for it all, eager to indulge and escape the monotony of their daily routines.
It all seemed so simple some days.
I envied them a little for seeing Vegas from the outside, with all the glitz, glam, and the entire spectacle of it. They didn’t realize what happened behind the scenes to keep this town running, to keep it safe, and to make it seem like the wild, unleashed monster they loved so much.
Behind the scenes, power was seized through manipulation and alliances, and wealth was accumulated through careful, strategic moves that sometimes turned violent. The tourists didn’t want to see any of it. As long as their champagne flutes remained full, they continued smiling.
