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“Valentine’s Day is just a money-making scam, anyway,” I mutter. As the holiday drew closer, Rafe’s radio silence on the matter made me a little uncomfortable. I guess there’s no point celebrating, anyway. We dogo on dates every single night, and I didtell him to stop buying me gifts. Besides, apart from Rafe insisting every restaurant worker call me Mrs. Visconti, we haven’t put a label on what we are yet.
Nico gives me a patronizing pat on the shoulder. “Well, we can both be lonely losers together.”
I smile to myself. Nico’s always been here for me, done things he’s never had to. I suddenly remember something that’s been playing on the back of my mind. Something I need to ask him. My smile fades and my palms grow sweaty.
“Nico?” He glances at me sideways. “My parents never had some off-shore bank account with enough money to buy an apartment, did they?”
He stills, a heart-shaped chocolate halfway to his mouth. “How would I know the state of your family’s finances?”
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
He’s so transparent, tilting his head from side-to-side as he weighs up the pros and cons of telling me the truth. “It was my college fund,” he says quietly.
The sharpest of knives twists in my chest. “Nico—”
“Shh,” he grunts, tapping on the keyboard and bringing up random camera screens with the pretense of studying them. “You did me a favor. I actually had toworkin school to maintain a scholarship. And that, Little P, is why I’m so smart today.”
The backs of my eyes burn at the thought of a teenage Nico emptying his trust-fund for me. “Thank you” will never be enough.
“Do you two actually get any work done, or do you just sit around and gossip all night?”
The voice that slides in from the door behind us is pure silk, but it still makes me jump. I turn to see Rafe leaning against the door frame, all sharp suit and smirk. His eyes lock on mine, and he winks.
My throat squeezes. Fuck, he’s breathtakingly handsome, even in the low lighting of the office. I wonder if I’ll ever get to a point where I look at him and don’t have a visceral reaction. If one day, my head won’t swim and my cheeks won’t heat when he walks into a room.
I mutter a weak greeting, then clear my throat and turn back to the monitors. Out the corner of my eye, Nico rolls his eyes.
“Are you here to steal Penny, or to give me a lecture?” Nico asks Rafe, holding out the chocolate box to him as he approaches.
He looks down at it in amusement, and shakes his head. “I think I’ve given you enough lectures,cugino.”
Rafe has made it very clear that he disapproves of me working here. It took me longer than it should have to realize The Grotto isn’t a regular casino. All the patrons on the other side of the cameras haven’t been invited to play here because of their social status or net worth. They’re here because they’ve all been suspected of cheating in other casinos across Hollow and Cove. Turns out, some of them are super dangerous, and Rafe hates that there’s little more than a craggy wall and a hallway separating them from me.
But he doesn’t need to sweat it. Not only could I probably throw a mean punch if I really had to, but I know Nico can handle these men. While he might be calm in the office, indulging me in games, like seeing how many marshmallows he can fit in his mouth, I’ve seen what happens when he snaps on those leather gloves and strolls out the door.
He’s a quiet beast.
Rafe’s warmth crackles against my back. His hands come down on either side of my soda can and cage me in, sparking mini fireworks in my stomach.
“Ready to go, Queenie?”
“Go where?” Nico asks. “Her shift doesn’t finish for another hour.”
“Not tonight, it doesn’t.”
Nico’s gaze slides to mine, amused and cynical. “Oh, the power of nepotism.”
I say my goodbyes and meet Rafe at the elevator. He’s got my coat slung over one arm, and is watching me with a certain heat as I walk toward him.
“Yes?”
He doesn’t say anything until the doors ding. He steps aside to let me in, and we stand shoulder to shoulder, watching the mirrored doors slide shut. The moment the elevator jerks to life, he glances at my distorted reflection, then suddenly presses his palm into my stomach and pushes me against the wall. His mouth captures my gasp, and his rough grip on my throat keeps me in place.
He steals a deeper kiss. Nips at my bottom lip. I’m melting under his wet mouth and burning under his hot hand as it slides up my inner thigh and cups my pussy so hard that I’m brought to my tip-toes.
The elevator slows to a stop. His tongue skims up my neck and flicks against my ear. “Been dying to do that all day,” he murmurs, giving my mound another squeeze before pulling himself away from me.
I’m high off his touch and breathless from how quick he ripped it away from me. The elevator doors slide open and the bitter February air pours in. Rafe smooths down his shirt and grabs my hand, stepping out into the night as the perfect gentleman.
