Chapter 2

2

Cass

I haven't seen Cole in months, nearly a year. He's been absent almost as long as my sister Madison, who ran away last summer before shit hit the fan with the Russians. I had forgotten how much I hate my stepbrother's cocky smirk, his infuriating taunts, and his big, stupid dick.

Yes, I truly hate his dick more than the rest of the annoying bastard. I hate that his monster cock was the first one I ever saw in real life, and that he's right, it's the one I'll always compare to others. I hate that Cole's dick is twice the size of most men and is only on par with the bats guys swing around in baseball fields or pornos.

Mostly, I hate how good it felt writhing on his long, hard length in the pool. I nearly got off humping him through our wet clothes.

One second, I was so pissed at him for figuring out my dirty little secret that I wanted to literally kill him to shut him up, and the next, our tongues were colliding, and I nearly drowned him in an attempt to not murder him, but to get him inside of me.

I feel like a complete idiot.

As if it wasn't bad enough to get caught watching him screwing some random girl on the island, now there's this disaster to deal with. Cole will never stop tormenting me about the ferocity with which I kissed him or how hard I grinded on him.

The only saving grace is that he was obviously just as eager to fuck me. I knew he was thinking about it from the second he waltzed over to the side of the pool and stared down at me like a starving man eyeing an all-you-can-eat buffet.

I'm used to men constantly looking at me that way. At least behind my father's back. I wasn't prepared for Cole to actually put his hands on me. He didn't just touch me. No, he attacked me. The asshole shoved me under the water, pinned me to the pool wall, and even pulled my damn hair.

My reaction to the hair pulling was the most unexpected thing of all. I don't like being at anyone's mercy, but Cole looked so furious and stupidly hot staring me down while having the upper hand, even if it was only temporarily.

I could've hurt him and got away if I wanted, but I didn't. One quick knee to his balls would've had him backing off.

That's what I will definitely do next time.

Not that I want or think there will be a next time.

I'm sure my father has already given Cole plenty of warnings about what he will do if he touches me or Sophie. He may have been caught up in the moment in the pool, but there's no way he would've let things go any further.

No man would risk screwing me in broad daylight in my father's pool.

I should forget everything that happened and focus on what's most important—Cole knows about the guards.

Or at least he's guessed that something is up with them.

I have to find out what he plans to do with that information and make sure he drops it before the bastard runs his mouth around my father and gets someone killed.

That's a conversation that can wait until later, though. Right now, I need to put as much distance between us as possible. And I want to kick someone's ass.

Good thing my daily afternoon session with Saul is about to start. Early mornings and afternoons we train.

For the past few months, my father has actually allowed my ancient instructor to supervise, and of course record through surveillance cameras, fighting his guards and hotel security. Saul convinced Daddy that the guards could use some training, and that the more experience I have with fighting actual big men, the better I'll be able to protect myself.

Not that my father would ever concede that fact.

As soon as I take a cold shower to wash away the sunscreen, I get changed into black spandex shorts and a matching sports bra, then make my way to the stairs, down to our home gym on the second floor.

The luggage sitting open on top of a guest bed has me stopping abruptly in the hallway.

"No. That's impossible," I mutter to myself, going inside to do some snooping. Maybe Eli is just being relocated from the first floor to the second. My father would never allow Cole to live under the same roof as Sophie and me, would he?

The clothes tossed around the suitcase are nothing but causal attire—jeans, tees, boxer briefs and socks. It all smells like a fresh, warm towel from the laundry that you want to bury your face in for whatever reason.

Moving away before I stick my nose in Cole's undies, I find a laptop that I'm sure is password protected lying on the side of the mattress as if it was recently used. There's a puddle of water on the carpet nearby. If I take a little peek in the en suite bathroom…yep, there are the wet clothes and shoes Cole shed before leaving.

Maybe he's just staying here for the weekend. He didn't bring a ton of clothes, so I'm sure that's it. On Monday he'll be gone, and everything will go back to normal. If I can just convince him to keep his loud mouth shut for two days, we'll be good.

Slipping out of his room before he catches me snooping, I finally make it to the gym, pushing aside that asshole from my thoughts for the next few hours.

"Hello, my beautiful babies." I run my fingertips over each of the marble bases of the trophies. They sit on three individual floating wall shelves, one for jujitsu, another for judo, and the third for Muay Thai, all with golden cups mounted on the top, making them well over two feet tall. The awards never fail to give me a much-needed confidence boost.

Winning them in my first tournament, beating every single competitor in attendance in all three events while barely breaking a sweat, is what truly convinced my father that I could take on any of his big, fat untrained guards.

And just as I suspected, pinning a much larger, heavier man to the mat had the desired effect.

"Dusting off your prizes?" Saul asks from behind me when he walks into the giant open space the size of some private dojos.

"The maids do that for me," I tell him. "I was just saying hello to them."

The lanky, completely bald, nearly seventy-year-old man wrinkles his forehead in annoyance. "We do not train for prizes. We train to defend ourselves against enemies, of which your father has many."

"Yes, but if he never lets me leave the casino, then I won't ever get to kick anyone's ass for real."

"I have three new security managers for you to throw around today."

"Ugh, the employees here all so flabby and weak," I mutter. "But at least they'll be a nice distraction."

"A distraction from what?" he asks.

"Nothing. "

His chocolate eyes squint at me as he comes closer. "Nothing? Is it the same nothing that gave you those bruises on your wrists?"

I glance down at the insides of my pale wrists and then rotate them finding that the shrewd old man is right. Cole gave me two big ugly blue spots over each wrist bone. It's like the idiot is begging for an early death.

And why is my next thought that I like the marks? Nobody has ever held me tight enough to bruise me before, not even in training or the tournaments, or late at night. I don't give opponents time to touch me. Saul rarely even lays a hand on me, only when necessary to correct my posture or position since he knows my father watches our recorded sessions.

"I fell," I lie with a shrug.

"Did you fall into a man's hands? Because those are thumb and fingerprint bruises."

"It doesn't matter where I fell, so drop it before I tell my father you gave them to me."

The dark-skinned martial arts legend visibly pales in fear of my threat. "It's dropped. Let's warm up."

Thankfully, he doesn't mention the bruises again while I grapple with the three out-of-shape guards that show up late. And I know Saul won't say a word to my father about the marks for fear that I'll just lie and say he's responsible rather than tell my father the truth.

No, I won't tell Dante what happened with Cole in the pool. At least not yet. First, I'll offer my stepbrother my silence in exchange for his.

Cole

As soon as I climbed out of the pool, I walked dripping wet through the penthouse, grabbing my luggage on the way up the stairs to my new room on the second floor.

The bedroom is twice as big as the old one in my mom's apartment, and three times as big as my dorm room. It has all the essentials—a king-sized bed, a tall dresser, and two nightstands. There's also a walk-in closet that will look empty after I hang the few clothes I brought with me. And I'm very happy to find that I have my own private bathroom.

Shedding my dripping wet clothes in said bathroom, I toss them over in the tub to worry about later, then pull my laptop from my luggage to send a message to Shane to let him know I won't be staying with him, and then I order a new cell phone.

Being able to just order the replacement of the thousand-dollar device with a click of a button is a brand-new feeling for me. Before my mom inherited her mobster father's money, the unexpected expense of a new phone would've sent me into a full-blown panic. It would've taken days, if not weeks, to come up with the cash to get a new one, and then I would buy the cheapest device in the store. I would've lost sleep over being out that much cash for something as stupid as being pulled into a goddamn pool.

Now, well, I don't like using what little of my grandfather's blood money my mother dumps into a bank account for me to use, mostly for tuition, and so I won't have to "work" during the summer. But it's worth the guilt to not have to hustle for the next three months than have to keep it up while juggling the final year of courses for my business admin degree.

Once the phone shit is taken care of, I make a note to figure out a way to pay Cass back for this, and soon. Then, I head out to the hallway to speak to the two grumpy-looking guards at the front door needing to find out who she's fucking.

I should be worrying about how to make twenty thousand dollars fast, and instead, I'm wasting time on this shit.

"Hey, could you send, um, what's his name?" I scratch the top of my damp head, trying to remember who is in charge of Dante's guards. It starts with a T… "Titus. Can you send Titus a message for me?" I ask them.

"Why?" The scowls on both of their stern, meathead faces tell me exactly how they feel about me, a nobody whose mom married their boss, giving them orders.

"I have a few questions for Titus, and I don't have his number. He's in charge of casino security, right?"

"Yeah. But he isn't going to want to talk to you ."

"Either give me his number or I'll ask Dante, who is currently killing a man in the basement, and I might also slip and tell him that his day guards were eyeing Cass in her bikini a little too long."

"Fuck you. We haven't even been inside the penthouse or near the pool today."

"My word against yours." The fact that they don't deny seeing Cass in her skimpy bathing suit, only that it wasn't today, is telling. Maybe it's one of these pricks who is screwing her.

Nah.

If I had to bet, it's probably someone who works the night shift. Her father, my mother, and her sister would be around too much during the day to try and sneak around.

The guard who hasn't said a word to me finally caves, pulling out his phone to ask, "What number should we tell Titus to call?"

Well, fuck. My new phone that's being overnighted won't be here until tomorrow.

"Just see where he is, and if he's in the casino. Tell him I'll just come to him."

The man snorts, making him look even more bullish. "I'm not asking my boss where the fuck he is."

"Then tell him that I asked and that it's important to the penthouse's security."

With a huff, the bull starts texting with his sausage fingers. I stand around in the hall and wait with my hands in my jean pockets, refusing to walk away until he gets a response .

"I'll come get you when I hear back," he eventually says. "It could take a while."

Leaning against the hallway wall, I fold my arms over my chest and tell him, "I've got nothing but time."

It's true. Without classes, or needing to earn cash to live on, I'm a free man living in Vegas for the next three months with only one thing hanging over my head. How the hell am I going to get my hands on twenty thousand dollars in one month's time?

I could ask my mom, but we're not exactly speaking at the moment. And she would only ask me what I need so much cash for and get suspicious. The reason I need the money is to make sure she never finds out what I did.

The ding of a new incoming message on the guard's phone has me straightening. I give the bull a second to read it. Well, several seconds since he's taking his time. "Titus said he's downstairs and will meet you in the lounge where your mom used to waitress."

I grit my teeth, not liking the way he said that shit. Yes, it's true that my mother was a cocktail waitress for years in Dante's casino before they hooked up or whatever. I just don't like him implying that her prior occupation somehow makes her beneath him. "Yes, my mother preferred slinging drinks to drunk assholes rather than live with her insanely wealthy father while he ran the Russian mafia. Makes you think, right?"

The two guards trade a look with each other, but I've had enough of both of them. Maybe they are the ones screwing Cass and I can figure out a way to make them regret it. Not that I care. It's just...frustrating to think of random men hooking up with her right under her father's nose in his damn house. How has Dante not noticed? The man knew when my plane was arriving in the airport when I just bought the ticket this morning.

I take the elevator down to the main floor, then from there it's a short walk to the lounge. Titus is a big guy, Dante's second and best friend, the head of casino and hotel security. He's not easy to miss in his designer suit .

I slide into the booth with him and say, "Thanks for taking a minute to meet with me."

"No problem. What's up, kid?"

I don't care for the kid comment, but I let it slide since the man is old enough to be my father. For all I know he could be.

My mom has no idea who impregnated her during a one-night stand when she was a teenager. The only thing I know about my old man is that he was a member of the Sigma Chi fraternity at USC. Or he was at a fraternity party on a college campus one night. It could literally be anyone in the world.

"So, I've got a question for you," I start. "And I don't think Dante needs to know we talked, at least not right now."

Titus arches a thick dark eyebrow. "You want me to lie to my boss?" Again, he uses the term boss since that holds more weight than friend. I have the feeling that Dante Salvato doesn't have many friends he wouldn't shoot in the head if they stepped a toe out of line.

"I'm not asking you to lie to him, just not inform him of shit he doesn't ask you about directly."

Titus takes a sip of his glass of amber liquid, then asks, "And what is the shit that you want to know that he wouldn't ask me about?"

"Just the names of the guards who have been on penthouse night shifts for the past few weeks. Oh, and the ones scheduled for the next several weeks."

He grunts something unintelligible then drinks the rest of his liquor, slamming the empty glass down on the table. "Why?"

"Need to know basis," I reply rather than rat out my suspicions about Cass to him. I'd rather be the only one who knows her secret.

And fuck me, I guess the two of us have a secret that needs to be kept quiet now too.

Why the hell did I kiss her and grab her ass after the crazy bitch tried to drown me?

" You want me to go through old schedules and tell you who will be working the penthouse shift at night?" Titus grumbles .

"Yes. And I also want to know if they come and go inside the penthouse during the day or night."

"Well, yeah, they come and go, patrolling the interior of the house every two hours, the entire day and night. All except the third floor."

"And Dante approved that, letting them in the penthouse every two hours as long as they stay off the third floor?"

"Of course, he did."

"Are there any cameras in the penthouse?"

"Only ones I know about are in Dante's office. Why?"

Ignoring his question, I ask another. "Are there cameras out in the hallway, so you know how long the guards are gone each check?"

"Yes. The two guards out front take turns so someone is always watching the elevator. Additional guards usually only come up when there's a problem or Dante is heading out."

"So, one guard makes the rounds of the first and second floor at say midnight, the other at two, and so on trading off for the entire shift?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Like I said, I'm just curious how it all works and who will be guarding me now that I'm staying in the penthouse."

His eyes bulge at that. "Dante gave you a room in the same building as his daughters?"

"Sure, on the second floor. After all, I'm legally his stepson now."

"Maybe so, but you also have a dick. Dante doesn't like any dicks around his girls."

"Eli lives on the main floor," I point out.

"Eli knows Dante will literally have his balls if he steps foot on the third floor. And you would be stupid to consider going up to the third floor ever . Dante doesn't even like your mom to bother the girls up there."

"Dante read me the riot act. I'm keeping my dick in my pants." Even my wet pants. Soaking wet pants that felt every slide of Cass's pussy when she was grinding on it a few minutes ago .

Was she trying to set me up to get caught so her father would murder me in cold blood? Does she hate my mother that much that she would ruin shit between them?

I wouldn't put it past the crazy cocktease.

"Okay, fine," Titus huffs. "I'll look up the schedule and send it to you since it's not like it's a secret or anything. You'll be seeing the same men while you're living there, which means I don't think there's any way that this request of yours could bite me in the ass."

"Great, thank you."

"Should I text it?"

"My phone is on the fritz right now," I tell him. "Can I get a printed list?"

Chuckling, he says, "You're a persistent little shit, you know that?"

I shrug because he's not wrong.

"Fine. Are Dante and Vanessa home?"

"Not yet."

"Then I'll bring it up as soon as I print it."

"Great. Thanks, man. I'll owe you one."

"You'll wish you were fucking dead if you're up to something and it comes back on me."

Again, I don't doubt that he's a man of his word, the same as Dante.

Ten minutes later and I have the list in my hands, delivered in a sealed envelope. The list of guards on the night shift changes frequently, not only the individuals but also the pairings, which means it's not going to be easy to figure out who Cass is screwing. Guess I'll be staying up late for a few nights to see who creeps up to her room.

The morning Cass watched me bang that girl on the island, I could've sworn she looked like a wide-eyed, scandalized virgin seeing a dick for the first time in her life. And, god, I liked that mine was possibly her first, that she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from it.

That was nearly a year ago, though, and a whole lot could change in a year.

Did one of the fuckers working for her father take her virginity while he was on the clock? Do they only have quickies because he's always short on time and afraid of getting caught? If so, he's a fucking idiot. It would take me weeks to get my fill of Cass. A five-minute fuck wouldn't do anything but leave me wanting more while giving her a sore cunt from the smash and dash.

Dammit, I don't like any of these thoughts swirling around in my head. But I can't seem to make them stop.