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I called Lidia, and she started screaming at me in Italian when I asked her why she’d lied. Then the phone was pulled away and Leonora said, “Grow a sense of humor, Big!” I heard her muttering about the translation app on her phone before she hung up on me.
The last thing was a shit show, but by the end of it, justice had been served. Freddie Money had moved on from the girl who had Leonora arrested. He didn’t want to find his head disconnected from his body if he didn’t drop her. It wasn’t a threat if I made good on my word.
After a few calls, the only place in town who would hire her was me.
The man who’d be married to the woman she hated.
When I finally got home, the entire place smelled different. Like perfume and women’s products. The people Lidia had hired to help Leonora get ready were in action.
I used a spare bedroom and bathroom to shower and get ready. I’d texted Lidia earlier to tell her where to bring my tuxedo. I didn’t want to disrupt the flow of anything going on with Leonora.
Thirty minutes ahead of schedule, I poured myself a drink—my once-a-year allowance—and walked over to the window looking out over Vegas.
Another thirty minutes went by, and Aphrodite was making me sweat in my custom-made tux.
I texted Lidia. ETA.
Venus has landed, her response was almost immediate.
Best friends must tell each other every fucking thing. Lidia had called her Venus, the Roman equivalent of Aphrodite. I’d never called her that in front of anyone, so I knew Leonora had told her.
I fixed my tux and made sure my hair was in place before I set off to find the goddess I was waiting on.
She was on the other side of the penthouse, gazing out of another window.
My feet stopped in their tracks.
She was wearing an embellished Grecian-style dress that was made for her body. Her hair was half up and half down, and I could smell her essence floating in the air.
Her eyes moved to the right a little, and she startled when she realized she wasn’t alone.
A slight smile lit up her face as she turned around to face me. “I’m your Aphrodite, so…” She did this weird little curtsy, showing off a thigh-high slit and sexy heels that wrapped around her ankles.
“You don’t need a dress to prove it.” My voice was rough.
“I know,” she whispered. “I just…” She looked away for a second before she met my eyes. “I wanted to wear something special. Something that spoke to you.”
“All I can see is you. All I can hear is you. Everything else is foreign. Translate for me.”
“This dress says… this woman says yes, even if she wasn’t asked. Because you can’t just ask a woman like her. The answer will always be no, until a man like you makes her stubborn heart admit it’s ready.”
I closed the gap between us, pushing her against the wall, kissing her until she melted into my arms.
It was never about what she owed me. It was always about this. Getting her right here, to this moment of surrender.
I’d fucking surrendered to her the moment I’d seen her.
For her heart to turn, I knew I was going to have to turn her resolve. She would have rather I cut off her hand instead of marrying me. And in my own fucked-up way, that was how I knew it was real between us. Real fear will make a person do crazy shit, and if she wasn’t truly afraid of what existed between us, she wouldn’t have put her hand down and told me to take it.
She was offering it to me now.
She was quiet as I bypassed everyone vying for my time, until we set foot in the ballroom of the casino, and she repeated vows to me that would last forever.
The rest of the night, I introduced her to my world as my wife, Mrs. Bigatti.
13
MR. BIG
