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“Stay out of this, Bianchi,” Rodrigo hisses, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight. I see a second of realization flare in his stone-cold eyes. His bravado has gotten the better of him since he knows all too well what happens when you cross me.
Playing with Abby has made him lose control of himself as well as the situation. And it’s not about the money he just lost. A half-million isn’t a substantial sum for someone like him, so it must be his wounded ego and being beaten by a girl.
“Today is as good a day to die as any.” I face down the snake who dares to insult me inside my own home. “Slither back to whatever hole you crawled out of before I take your unimpressive insult personally.”
His eyes narrow, the fire of revenge already beginning to burn. He steps back, his jaw tight with frustration, and bows to the weight of my authority. “Nico will escort you back to your car.”
“Fine,” he spits, glaring at us both. “I concede... for now.” The threat in his words is unmistakable, but I meet it head-on.
No one intimidates me, least of all a man no organization will accept. They may pay him for his armaments and to do their dirtiest work, but they won’t offer him a place of respect.
Once he and Nico clear the room, I nod to the waiter. “Bring a round of drinks for everyone.
“Of course, sir.”
I turn to face Abby and feel a spark of something dangerous and powerful ignite between us. “Are you alright?” I ask, concern woven through my words. She nods, her eyes shining with gratitude and something more, something that makes me want to risk rewriting my future.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice running down my spine.
“He won’t forget about this.”
“I know.”
Moving closer, I rest my hand on her back, knowing I will not allow Vargas to touch one hair on this woman’s head.
No matter the cost.
CHAPTER FIVE
Abby
The sun casts a warm glow through the lace curtains, illuminating the cozy living room of my family home in the North End of Boston. I sit on the comfortable sofa, fidgeting with the frayed edge of an embroidered pillow my grandmother made.
My friend, Nadia, sits across from me, her curly black hair cascading over her shoulders, her expressive brown eyes filled with concern. “I’m in one piece. There’s no need to measure me for a coffin yet.”
“Ugh, I hate your morbid sense of humor.”
“That’s a lie.” I wag my finger in her direction. “You love it.”
“Not when you’re tangling with the Bianchis and men with animal nicknames.”
I study the clouds decorating my sweatpants and then look up. “I still can’t believe the casino manager intervened on my behalf.” My heart rate quickens as I picture the man who could make any woman a fool. “He acted like a true knight in shining armor.”
“Or a man trying to keep blood from staining the marble floors of the high roller suite.”
I throw up my hands. “Geeze, can you at least wait a minute before peeing all over my sexy mafioso parade?”
“No!” She leans forward. “You are too important to me, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Are we talking about my heart or my body?”
“Both.”
“It wasn’t my plan to play cards with theSerpent.” My voice is defensive. “I almost got up from the table when he sat down.”
“Why did you stay after being spooked at the private club?”
“I knew if I ran away like a scared bunny, my reputation would disappear in a puff of smoke.” I look around the room and then let out a frustrated breath. “I’m welcome in the private clubs and exclusive rooms because I’m a formidable player and not intimidated. If word got out that I couldn’t handle a game with a less than savory character, high-rollers would avoid me like a rash.”
