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She is still my prisoner, of course she is because even if she is willing, nothing changes. My need is stronger than my compassion for her and yet something in her eyes is telling me she wants this too.
She makes it back within five minutes and I feel satisfied with how things are shaping up. Flora will become my ideal woman. Do everything I tell her and bend to my will. If she has any fire in her, I’m interested to stroke the flames because when she walked into my home, she may as well have left her soul at the door.
“Come, we must eat.”
I hold out my hand and as her slender hand settles in mine, a powerful emotion grips me.
This protective streak I have toward her is surprising and I must remind myself it’s there because of my deep yearning for her sister. However, as we walk silently toward the dining room, it’s not Diana who occupies my mind. Somehow Flora has pushed her to the back of it, because all I see when I gaze at her now is my future beckoning.
As always, breakfast is waiting, and I pull Flora into the seat beside me and lift the coffee pot.
“Coffee, baby girl?”
She nods gratefully, “Please.”
The steam and aroma from the pot is a satisfying one and as I reach for my mug, I have never needed the caffeine more.
A slight movement from the doorway makes me glance up and I note Pasquale looking weary as he heads into the room, closely followed by my butler, Monroe.
“You look like shit.” I growl as he pulls out the seat opposite Flora and sinks into it wearily. I can tell she’s surprised at his appearance, although she shouldn’t be because breakfast has always been yet another business meeting for a man who has dedicated his entire life to it. For two years it has always been just Pasquale and me. If I have an overnight guest, they are usually escorted from the premises by Monroe with a fistful of dollars and a satisfied smile on their face. They never eat with me. Why would they? But I have never had a prisoner before and I kind of like it.
“It’s all over the news. Senator Billings, murdered in an ambush. The press has moved in and no prizes for guessing what the word on the streets is.”
“Tell me.” I nod to Monroe, who sets down a plate of eggs and bacon before me and the same to Flora, whose expression tells me she’s starving.
I lift my fork and nod to her to do the same and as she silently eats beside me, Pasquale carries on as if she isn’t even in the room.
“Our soldiers on the streets speak of rumors about the senator. He’s well known for his sexual proclivities, which aren’t to most people’s tastes.”
Flora shivers beside me and I expect she’s congratulating herself on being spared from discovering what they were first hand, and Pasquale says angrily, “Apparently, the good senator was playing off several families, one against the other. He had his fat finger dipped in so many pies he was overcome with greed. It could be anyone who decided enough was enough and took matters into their own hand, but the fact he was leaving your party after being publicly shamed means there is only one name in the frame in most people’s minds.”
“I’m guessing that would be me.” I snort and wipe my mouth with the napkin and reach for more coffee, refilling Flora’s mug as she waits like a statue beside me.
Pasquale is intrigued by the situation. I see it in his eyes, and I turn to Flora and say roughly, “Tell us what you can about Senator Billings.”
She glances up nervously and can’t disguise the hatred in her expression as she whispers, “He’s a regular at the gallery. Desdemona sees to his account personally, and I was surprised when she asked if I would accompany him here yesterday.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Pasquale sighs. “That bitch has fucked most of Vegas just to keep her business going, and it’s not the first time she’s involved one of her staff. Perhaps the senator wanted someone who doesn’t come with an STD and requested her latest protégée to test her loyalty to him?”
I shake my head. “Or the request came from someone else.”
Flora looks as sick as a dog and nods, settling back against her seat and looking so worried it makes my blood boil for some reason.
“Do you think Diana knows I’m here?” Her voice is laden with fear which angers me, and I snap, “It’s possible. I’m guessing she is counting on my infatuation with her to stir the pot and keep my attention off something more important.”
Pasquale nods. “I had my contact at the airport run a passenger check on any flights into Vegas in the last month. There was no evidence of Diana Corlietti or Mario Bachini on any of them, even the private manifests.”
“They could have driven here.” I snap back and he shrugs. “Of course. If someone wants to remain anonymous, it’s easy enough to do. I have the soldiers scanning the streets for any word on that, beginning with the car that we saw on the cameras.”
“And the police investigation?”
I glance at Pasquale with a sharp expression, and he shakes his head. “It should be easy enough to deflect the heat from our door, but if you are their intended target, I’m guessing they have a few more surprises up their sleeves.”
“Which is why our guest is so important.”
I turn to Flora, who appears shit scared all of a sudden and as Pasquale stares at her with interest, I say gruffly, “You told me you would help. What is their weakness?”
I’m straight to the point because I will not waste time in ridding the Ortega family of the cuckoo residing at the head of it and Flora says bitterly, “Mario is their weakness.”
