3. Max

3

MAX

I lean back in my leather chair at my desk, scanning the article on my tablet, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. These journalists love to proclaim the death of the Mob in Nevada, painting us as relics while hyping up the Russians and street gangs as the new kings of Las Vegas crime.

A smirk crosses my face as I finish the piece and set my tablet on my desk. If they only knew how wrong they were. Through my office window, the Vegas strip sparkles in the late afternoon sun. Two casinos, an online gambling app, five restaurants, two construction companies, and various other ventures operate under my careful management. Each one generates clean money while concealing the flow of darker profits.

The FBI hasn't sniffed around our operations in over two years. My MBA wasn't just for show. I've structured everything through layers of shell companies and offshore accounts that would make their heads spin. The street gangs fight over scraps while we quietly control the real moneymakers.

My phone buzzes with another text from our casino manager about tonight's high roller event. I type out detailed instructions, making sure everything stays within legal bounds, at least on paper. That's the key to longevity in this business. The loud ones who flash their power end up in handcuffs or dead. The smart ones blend in, looking like any other successful businessman. Gone are the days of Tommy guns taking out our rivals. Sure, occasionally, someone disappears, but there’s nothing that ever links it to the family. Subtle. That’s the key to success.

I straighten my tie and stand to pour myself a scotch from the crystal decanter by the window, taking a quick look out the window at Sin City’s skyline. For six years, I've run things in Las Vegas for the Nardone Family, building an empire that generates millions in both legitimate and illegitimate revenue. Not bad for a kid who started out collecting protection money in Brooklyn.

I return to my desk, sitting and glancing at my tablet again and smiling. Let them think we're dying out. Our power has only grown stronger in the shadows.

The door swings open without a knock, and Whitley Meadows saunters in wearing a red coat that covers a body that I know every inch of. Over a year ago, this entrance would have set my pulse racing and my dick to stand at full tilt. Now I barely glance up from my work.

"I was in the neighborhood." She perches on the edge of my desk, crossing long legs that once commanded my full attention. The coat slips open, revealing that those legs are wearing garters. “The Children's Hospital fundraiser is next week. Governor will be there, senators, all the right people. We should go."

My jaw clenches. "Not interested."

"Since when? You always said these events were good for business connections."

She’s not lying. But I always go to such events solo. This is another attempt by her to attach herself to me.

"I'm busy, Whitley." I shuffle the papers in front of me, making a show of being absorbed in work.

"You're always busy lately." Her fingers trail across my desk calendar. "Remember when we used to make time?"

I do remember. Blow jobs while I sat in my chair on a conference call. Bending her over my desk to fuck her from behind. Sometimes, our games played out at her penthouse suite. I’d fucked her a few times on my dining room table, but most of the time, I kept her away from my home. I fuck women, not have relationships with them.

For a time, my physical relationship with her offered the thrills of no strings, no complications. But that’s changed since she’s started dropping hints about leaving a toothbrush at my place, meeting her parents, and casually asking if I ever thought about having kids. The answer is no. I don’t want kids or the wife that goes with them.

"Things change." I lean back, putting more distance between us. The truth is, it’s been a long while since we’ve fucked. Why she keeps coming by is a mystery to me. It’s not like there aren’t other eligible rich men in Las Vegas.

"They don't have to." Her voice drops to that husky whisper that used to rev up my libido. Now it just reminds me of all the reasons this needs to end.

Casual flings lost their appeal months ago. Around the time I returned from New York, where I’d been providing protection to Gia. Since then, each encounter with Whitley has left me feeling hollow. It doesn’t help that I’ve been haunted by memories I've spent years trying to bury. Memories of beautiful green eyes and innocent trust that I betrayed.

“I’m working.”

"You've changed, Max. You used to know how to have fun." Whitley shrugs off her coat, revealing she has nothing on except the garters. There was a time I liked to fuck those large, fake tits of hers. Or when she wrapped her filler-enhanced lips around my cock and sucked me dry. Now I just want her gone from my office.

I shake my head. “I’m busy now, Whit.”

"Come on, Max. Remember that weekend in Cabo?" She leans forward, like seeing her tits up close and personal will change my mind. "The yacht, the champagne… I made you come so many times."

“I have a business to run. I can’t stop and fuck any time you’re horny.”

She straightens, her lips pursing. I wonder if she’s ever had a man say no to her before. "What happened to you? Have you become impotent? I hear that can happen to men over forty. I can help?—”

“Fucking hell, Whitley, my dick works fine.” I know it does because even though I carry a boat-load of guilt for it, I jerk off to memories of Gia more often than I should.

“Then what’s wrong?”

I glare at her. She’s not an idiot, so why is she so dense about this? “I said I’m busy.”

She slides off the desk and drops to her knees. “You’re tense. Let me help you relax.” Her fingers reach for my belt. My dick shrivels into my body.

“Goddammit, I told you I'm busy.” My voice comes out sharp, harder than I've ever spoken to her. "Get up."

Her hands freeze on my thigh. "Max?"

"I said get up." I push my chair away from her, standing. "This isn't happening."

"But—”

"Leave." The word snaps out like a whip crack. "Now."

She scrambles to her feet, face flushed with embarrassment rather than desire. Good. Maybe now she'll finally understand.

But then she puts on her society mask. She lifts her chin and straightens her shoulders as she closes her coat around her.

“I’m sorry, Max. I didn’t realize how busy you were.”

Fucking hell. I only told her that a million times.

She smiles. “Maybe we can get together later.”

Before I can cut the cord with her and end it, she’s out the door. I could run after her and tell her it’s over, but she’s finally out of my office. Maybe she’ll have gotten the hint.

I get another drink and then sit at my desk. I turn my attention to a stack of invoices, and I enter my happy place. This is what I'm good at. Running the Vegas operations, keeping the wheels turning smoothly. No complications, no messy emotions.

I’m beginning to think about having lunch when my phone vibrates against the desk, Nic's name lighting up the screen. I know we don’t have a planned meeting, but I’m not worried. Nic isn’t just a hands-on Don. He’s my best friend.

My guilt over sleeping with Gia extends to him for having betrayed his trust. I feel safe that the secret will never come out. Gia would have told him by now if she had any intention of telling him at all. While I feel relieved at that, I still feel obliged to make things up to Nic, which is another reason the Las Vegas side of the business is so successful. It’s my restitution to him.

“Nic. What’s up?”

"Someone's stalking Gia." Nic's voice carries an edge I haven't heard since his father tried to have him killed.

His words finally hit me. Gia’s in trouble? “What’s going on?”

"She's been getting messages, calls. The bastard's watching her movements. And the kids."

My knuckles whiten around the phone. "How long?"

"Weeks. She just told me today after getting another text.”

"Wait, you said weeks, but you’re only hearing about it now?”

"She kept it from everyone. You know how she is." Nic's frustration mirrors my own. "But it's escalating. The piece of shit called while she was in my office."

“He’s fucking with you.”

“Yes, but I can’t be sure whether this is about me or her or the family."

I stand, pacing to the window. The Vegas lights blur as scenarios race through my mind. Are any of Gino’s men left to retaliate against Nic through Gia? A rival family? At one point, that shit Benny Cantore was trying to take the twins’ inheritance, but Nic and I ran him out of town, handing over a little nest egg to him if he stayed away. Chances are good he’s blown through it. Would he resort to stalking her now for more money? If so, he’s dumber than a sack of rocks. Nic will kill him before Benny will get a penny of the twins’ money.

“Any ideas about who or why?” I ask.

“None. He says Gino had secrets and so does she.”

What secrets could Gia have? The memory of me sinking into her luscious body comes back to me. But who would know about that? And even if they did know, why would they stalk her about it?

"I've got men checking security footage, phone records. But until we know more, I’m sending her somewhere safe.”

“Good idea.”

“Normally, I’d tell you to come back to New York to help with this.”

Tell. Not ask. He’s Don Nardone now and if he orders me back, I’ll have to go. Except it sounds like he’s not going to order me back.

“It’s better for her and the kids to leave New York.”

Nic’s wife has family in Chicago. He’s been able to forge an amiable relationship with his sister-in-law and the D’Amato family she married into. They’d be able to keep Gia safe.

“I’m escorting her to Las Vegas and?—”

Wait. What? “Las Vegas? Not Chicago?”

There’s a long pause. “Why would I send her to Chicago? You’re her godfather. You made the vow to her mother like I did.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing I could figure a way out of this. “How soon?” I ask, knowing there is no way out. Regardless of how I feel about Gia, of how difficult it is to be around her and not want her to the depths of my soul, I swore to protect her.

“She and the kids are with me tonight. We’ll fly out tomorrow. I won’t take chances.”

He’s right, of course. If not him, I’m the man for this job. It’s not that I don’t want to. I’ll lay down my life for Gia, and not because of a promise I made to her mother when I was barely an adult. It’s because of her.

"Max?" Nic's tone sharpens. "You there?"

I realize my attention drifted away. "Yeah." I swallow hard. "Just… thinking logistics."

But really, I'm thinking about soft green eyes and stolen moments. About guilt and duty and promises I made.

"Send me your flight details. I'll handle everything on this end."

“I knew I could count on you. I trust you with her life, Max.”

“I won’t let you down.”

The call ends and I sink into my chair, a feeling of doom falling over me. Nearly a year ago, I was forced into her world and it nearly crumbled the carefully maintained control I’d built to protect myself from the only person who's ever been able to slip past my defenses. Now she’ll be in my house, living in my space. Heaven help me if I fail this time.