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The way her eyebrows fly up at that tells me she might be, too.
And just like that, I fall a little bit harder in lust with my fake, hot wife.
But she keeps fighting what she has no clue is a losing battle against me. “You will never…wewill never—” she sputters.
I place a finger over her lips. “Save your breath now, sweetheart. Because there will come a time very soon when I steal it away from you.”
Chapter15
Valentina
This is stupid. So freaking stupid. The stale stench of smoke hits my nostrils and makes my stomach roil. My mouth twists. Seems like there are smoking areaseverywherein here. I crane my neck, peering through narrowed eyes at the people walking through the casino, studying them, trying to gauge whether or not they’re studyingus.
Jingling slot machines make my ears ring and my brain scramble. It’s maddening, much like my fake husband and his ridiculously self-assured swagger. It’s like he wants to be seen, to be compromised so he just has to unleash holy hell on whoever is waiting to pounce on us like a cat on a ball of string.
His fingers lace tight around mine. I grit my teeth as the tingles dance over my skin every time he gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m trying to get the blood flowing through your fingers. Your hands are so cold, I’d think you were dead if you weren’t walking right next to me.”
“How charming,” I sneer. “Way to compliment your wife.”
He gives me the side-eye. “I didn’t say you looked like a corpse. Just felt like one.”
“Again, not really winning with that observation.” I let out a frustrated breath. My body is crammed into a tiny black dress that’s too short and too tight to make it even remotely comfortable. I doubt I could eat a lettuce leaf and not explode out of it.
I feel like a mummy. No wonder why my hands are so cold. All circulation in my body has been cut off by this getup I’m in. My high heels dig into the patterned carpet, resisting every step farther and farther away from our makeshift safe haven upstairs.
It was always temporary, though. Like everything else.
Quinn pulls me over to a row of craps tables in the center of the casino. He positions me next to him along the wooden ledge and pulls out a stack of hundreds from his pants pocket. His gun is tucked into the waistband, covered by a black jacket.
I take a quick look around. Jesus, I look like a hooker with my long bleached-blond hair, courtesy of a wig Heaven had brought, sky-high stilettos, and heavy makeup. I’m used to the disguises. God knows I’ve been donning them for years since I got caught up in Alek’s army.
But I’m not used to the way Quinn’s hungry gaze sweeps over me every time he turns in my direction. Sometimes I look away, but the heat from his eyes sears my insides, igniting all the sparks that I’ve tried to fight since we met only hours earlier.
I bite down on my lower lip, scouting the crowds. I feel so freaking exposed right now. I’d say it was the dress, but there’s a nagging feeling twisting my gut. Feels like a warning.
An ominous one.
And Quinn is completely oblivious. No shocker there.
My fingers itch to palm the gun in my clutch bag, just in case. Instead, I shift next to Quinn, the stiletto knife tucked into my garter, rubbing against my thighs.
I’m always prepared.
I peek over at his profile. His face relaxes into a sexy smile as lots of cheering erupts at the table for whatever the roller just threw. The dealer pushes stacks of brightly colored chips our way. It’s impossible for him to be aware of his surroundings right now when he’s so focused on this game. I grit my teeth, grinding them together, not even bothering to try and follow what’s happening. There are lots of numbers printed on the green felt. Dice get thrown, sometimes people clap, sometimes they groan.
Beyond that, I have no idea what’s happening to elicit those reactions, and I really don’t give a damn. My mind races out of control, tripping back to the sinister moments on the observation deck. That man, Aisling, Heaven’s comments. Why would he go after the Villani family today when he could have easily done the same any other day since they live here in Vegas?
Could there really be a link to the Sinalia Cartel and Luis Navarro?
Or is there something else I don’t know, something Alek may or may not choose to let me in on since I’m clearly on a need-to-know basis.
“Cocktails?”
The voice jars me and I spin around, wide-eyed, coming face-to-face with a cocktail waitress dressed in less than me.
“No, thanks.”
“I’ll take a Yuengling,” Quinn says with a megawatt smile. The waitress blushes to the ends of her extensions and I swallow a groan.
