14. Brie

CHAPTER 14

Brie

I smooth down the front of yet another gold dress, the fabric cool and slippery beneath my fingertips as I prepare for tonight's high-stakes poker game. It's a monthly ritual, one Terry used to oversee himself—a gathering of Vegas's criminal elite to align business interests over cards and whiskey.

As I fasten a pair of diamond earrings, I catch my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at me is a far cry from the trailer park girl I once was. I've reinvented myself, shedding my past like a snake sheds its skin. But underneath this gilded exterior, that scrappy survivor still lives, ready to fight tooth and nail for what's mine.

That's the thing, though.

What, exactly, is mine? I don't mean the will. Although I should probably ask Frank what's going on with that. But in Terry's absence, what will my role be in the Colombo Family?

What do I want it to be?

A soft knock at the bedroom door pulls me from my thoughts. "Come in," I call, expecting Holden with some last-minute information about the guest list tonight. As part of the less-legit side of the Golden Sands, the poker night is always under his purview.

But when the door swings open, my breath catches in my throat. Nik steps in, wearing a close-cut tailored black tux, her dark hair slicked back, and a gold waistcoat indicating her connection to me.

She looks…stunning.

Literally stunning. I feel like I've been thumped over the head.

"Ready?" Nik asks, seemingly oblivious to the effect she's had on me. But there's something in her gaze, a heat that makes my skin tingle.

I nod, collecting myself. "Let's go."

As we make our way down to the high roller rooms, and the specially-secured poker table rooms for the night's entertainment, Nik's presence is both comforting and electrifying. I'm acutely aware of her every movement, the way she scans our surroundings, always alert, always protective.

We're stopped at the doors by casino security, where we surrender our phones—and Nik, with some persuading from me, hands over her guns. But she refuses to give up the knife hidden at the small of her back.

"I'm her bodyguard," she snaps at security, thumbing at me. "Get it? Body. Guard ."

"Everyone who attends the poker game comes unarmed and no one will have a phone," I tell her patiently. "We accept the rules or we don't go in. And we're going in."

"You're the boss here," she argues. "Tell these morons I'm an exception."

I smile. "But you're not an exception. And remember what Eva said—you're supposed to obey me." I flap my eyelashes, and she glowers even harder. But she gives up the knife, and finally, we're admitted.

The room is already thick with cigar smoke, the scent mingling with expensive male cologne and the tang of hard liquor. Faces turn our way—some curious, others calculating. I spot a few Triad men in one corner, while a drug cartel leader lounges by the bar, drink in hand. Representatives from a few Italian and Russian Families linger near the poker table, eyeing me with a mix of interest and skepticism.

I notice a few members of the Consortium, too. But Eva is conspicuously absent, although I know Holden Brooks sent out an invitation to her personally.

"Eva doesn't like games of chance," Nik murmurs close to my ear, her breath warm against my skin. "Only skill. She prefers to be in perfect control at all times."

She does that mind-reading trick of hers more often than I'd like. I don't bother to argue with her about whether poker is more skill or luck, because Larry Caruso has caught my eye and gestured for me to join him in a quiet corner. I glance at Nik, and hold up a hand. "You'll need to stay away for a minute. Family business. And none of yours."

She tilts her head to one side, but then shrugs. "Fine." And then she melts away, making sure she can keep an eye on me, but far enough away that I can speak in confidence. But as I make my way to Larry, I see Nik being approached by one of the Consortium members, who turns his back on me to speak to her, as though hiding what he's saying.

A note of suspicion sounds in my head. What are they doing? Is Nik reporting back about my activities, sharing information on the Colombo Family?

It's not that I don't expect it. I can buy just about anything I want, but trust is a luxury I can't afford. And there's nothing Nik has learned during her time with me that wouldn't become public knowledge soon enough, anyway.

So it doesn't really matter what she says to them.

She can spill her damn guts for all I care.

I reach Larry, who blinks at me. "You okay, Breezy? You look a little…" He scrunches up his face as he tries to find the word. "Upset."

"Of course I'm upset," I snap before I can stop myself, and then have to do a little fast-talk. "My husband just got murdered, Larry, and these poker nights were his favorite thing."

His weathered face is a mask of concern as he leans in close, bourbon on his breath. "Of course, of course. I wasn't thinking. And I hate seeing you put in this position," he adds. "But soon the Family will be running smoothly again. You have my word on that. And you know we take care of our own. You got nothing to worry about." He clasps my shoulder, his grip firm. "I hope I can count on your support, Breezy?"

The question catches me off guard, but I don't let it show. I just offer him an enigmatic smile. "I guess we'll see how things fall out."

As Larry moves away, I get that same unnerving feeling that I got at the funeral, and I look around the room instinctively as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Someone here… hates me. Hates me with passionate malevolence.

I'm sure of it. I can feel it?—

"What's wrong?"

With a gasp of surprise, I sway into Nik, who has suddenly appeared. "I…"

Can I trust her? Do I have a choice?

"Let's leave," she says briskly, looking into my face. "You don't have to be here."

It makes me mad, hearing her suggest I turn tail and run. "Like hell I'm leaving. Anyway, look, there's Holden—he wants to talk."

"I'm so glad you're here," he gushes at me, his eyes a little damp. "You know how much Terry loved these nights. I feel like—like it's our own little memorial to him."

I nod, my throat suddenly tight.

"Cards will start in about a half hour," he goes on. "But if you could work the room until then and get them to loosen up a little, I'd really appreciate it. Strained atmosphere tonight."

"I've felt that way myself," I agree, with a little shiver. "Maybe they're missing Terry, too. Anyway, you got it, Holden. The Golden Lady of the Sands is here to dazzle."

I move through the room, falling easily into the role of gracious hostess, and showing respect by speaking with each VIP in their preferred language. I trade jokes in Mandarin with the Triad enforcer, commiserate in Spanish with a cartel lieutenant over shifts in territory, and trade veiled barbs in Italian with the Gatto Family Underboss. I even test my Japanese—a newer acquisition—with a polite Yakuza in Vegas for the first time, who smilingly corrects my grammar when I plead for help.

"All that and you know Russian, too," Nik says when we have a moment alone.

I allow myself a half-smile at her ironic tone. "Terry was awful with everything except English and Italian," she says. "This way, he had someone in the room who could keep an ear out for him."

"It's an impressive skill."

"I've always been able to pick up the basics in most languages I've come across," I say. "But that's all it is—basic. Nothing special."

"Are you kidding me? I'm starting to see how useful you must have been to your husband."

I give a one-shouldered shrug, embarrassed by the compliment. It's second nature to me now, all this schmoozing. But tonight feels different without Terry here. I feel on edge, hyper-aware of eyes following my every move. And every moment I expect to feel that horrible hatred again, directed my way.

I'm used to being looked at, so it's not just the staring. But something unexpected occurs to me as I move around the room. They're judging me, these men, yes—but there's also genuine respect in their faces. And then they seem to expect that I'll join in the poker game, treating me as an equal rather than a placeholder. It's a heady feeling, this respect. This power .

Is this how Terry felt all those years?

Holden offers to seat me at one of the tables when the game starts, and the group I've been chatting with all agree, loudly, that I need to play. But before I can dwell on this shift toward me, Vince Sabatelli strolls up to the group, all charm in his expensive suit, but I know better than to be fooled by appearances.

"Breezy," he says, voice dripping with false warmth. "You're looking radiant tonight." He leans in, but he doesn't lower his voice. "I hope I can count on your support in the coming days. With me at the helm, the Family would thrive. And you…well, you'd benefit greatly from the protection I can offer."

His message is not for me. It's for the men around him, making sure they know he's coming up in the world. I feel Nik tense behind me, and I remember her reaction at the funeral.

But I can handle a snake like Vince Sabatelli.

"That's very kind," I tell him, allowing the old accent to peek through a little. "But as you can see, Vince, I already have protection." I gesture to Nik. "So I don't need yours." I enjoy the flash of annoyance that goes through his eyes.

"Yeah, Frankie mentioned you had some Consortium lapdog running around after you. But she ain't a friend, Breezy. Not like I could be your friend." His gaze wanders slowly down from my face to my tits. "I can offer status. Power . You could be what you were before, Breezy. A wife, rather than a widow. What do you say?"