Page 2 of Finn

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He strode in, his face impassive. He extended his hand. “O’Reilly.”

I shook his hand firmly. “Costas.”

“Hardly recognized the place.”

I offered him a smile. “Rather the point.”

“I like it.”

I indicated the chair, and he sat, unbuttoning his coat and crossing his legs. A moment later, coffee arrived and I offered him a cup. He accepted and we sipped in silence.

“Good,” he acknowledged. “Different.”

“Irish,” I said with a grin.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Of course.”

He leaned back, appearing relaxed. “What have you done to the casino?”

“Very little, actually—a refresh, really, carpets and such. We redid the main parts. The lobby, the restaurants, the guest rooms.”

He looked around. “The office as well.”

I ran my hand over the desk I was sitting at. “This was my grandfather’s. I had it brought over from Ireland.”

“Stunning piece,” he acknowledged. “Very different ambiance to the place now.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t want to compete with you, Roman. You run a very upscale casino. I’m appealing to the middle classes. Those who come for an evening to break the monotony of their run-of-the-mill lives. Staying in Toronto for a vacation and want to live it up a little. I still make millions, but in different ways.” I shrugged. “The high rollers come to you. I’m good with that.”

He finished his coffee, setting the empty cup on the desk. “I’m good with it too. I agree there are many types of gamblers and lots to go around.” He cleared his throat. “Which is the main reason I’m here.”

I rested my elbows on the desk. “Is there a problem?”

“Potentially.”

“Fill me in.”

He stood and paced, no doubt taking in other changes to his old office. “I assume you don’t allow your men to gamble at your casino.”

“No. I prefer them not to gamble at all, but if they do, not here. I want no whispers of favoritism or fixing games.”

He nodded. “I have much the same rule, and I know my staff on occasion indulge elsewhere.”

He sat down, meeting my curious gaze. “One of your men has been to the Maple twice in the past week. I’m concerned.”

“Why?”

“I overheard him talking about a debt he is trying to clear up.”

I withheld my groan. We both were aware that gambling more to pay off an existing debt rarely worked. It was an act of desperation that often led to negative consequences.

“Debt?” I asked. “Debt to whom?”

He sat back. “That’s the troublesome part. The racetrack. Pedro Lopez.”

I grimaced. “I’ve never met him, but I hate that lowlife. From what I’ve heard, he’s trouble.”