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Dominic
Iwake up, hungover and cranky. Too much fucking Scotch last night. I should have known better. I should have said something to Carter, instead of watching him drag Ella—Gabriella—into this. Instead, I’d drank far too much, and I’d held my tongue.
This situation with Ed has been going on for far too long. For six months, Carter’s life has been filled with forced mediation attempts and custody hearings, all culminating in the shit show that was the last hearing.
Judge Bass’ ruling should have brought Carter to his senses, and yet, here we are.
You’re enabling him, my conscience whispers.
Yes, I’ve told Carter he’s being ridiculous. Yes, I’ve told him that this war isn’t good for Noah. But I know I should have done more. I should have put a stop to it when Carter was bad-mouthing Wagner all around town. And I should have definitely said something when he involved Gabriella last night.
I swallow a couple of ibuprofens with a mugful of coffee, shower, and head down the hallway to my office. The penthouse floor of the Grand River is divided into two sections. One side is my apartment. The other houses the senior management offices of the casino. The commute is one of the definite perks of being the boss.
“Good morning, Dominic,” my assistant Nita chirps.
“If you say so.” I grab last night’s numbers from the customary spot on her desk. “Table games are down.”
“Ten percent down from yesterday, five-point-eight percent down from this time last year,” Nita replies. “Shannon called. She said that half her blackjack dealers were out last night.”
“Yeah, Carter said something about that.” Carter’s convinced that Denton Mitchell is behind this. I’m less paranoid than my best friend, but in this case, he’s probably right. Both Carter and I have been preoccupied with the Wagner situation. Neither of us has paid enough attention to Mitchell, who is becoming a serious problem that we cannot afford to ignore. “Can you set up a meeting with Shannon and Carter this afternoon?”
“Sure thing.” She surveys me. “You look dreadful,” she says. “Do you want me to call the kitchen for breakfast?”
I laugh. “Never change, Nita. No to the breakfast, thank you, but I would love a cup of coffee.” I head to my office, massage my temples, and read through the rest of the reports. I’m deliberately trying not to think about Gabriella. She’d haunted my dreams again last night, but this time, she wasn’t in bed with Carter and me. She’d been in Mitchell’s poker room, and the asshole had pulled a gun on her, and I was a helpless bystander who couldn’t save her in time.
I don’t think it’s a good idea she’s involved, and neither does my subconscious. Damn it all to hell. I don’t think her safety is at risk—Mitchell isn’t stupid and won’t resort to acts of outright violence—but I still don’t like it.
There’s a knock on the door. I look up. Nita comes in with a fresh cup of coffee, a chocolate chip muffin, and a bottle of water. “Raj is outside and wants fifteen minutes of your time.”
“Sure, send him in.” I take a bite of the muffin, gulp down half of the coffee, and wash it down with the water. “Nita, you’re a lifesaver.”
“I know,” she quips. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”
Raj is my business development manager. He comes in, a somber expression on his face, sits down and leans forward. “We’re in talks to buy a parking lot across the street. Katrina put it on her wish-list. Something about valet parking for the high-rollers.”
“The high-rollers don’t like waiting five extra minutes for their cars.”
He rolls his eyes. “I weep for their pain. Anyway, Randall Paulson was amenable to the sale. The couple who run the restaurant that’s there now wants to retire and move closer to their grandchildren, and—”
“Jerome and Maggie are retiring?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “You know them?”
“I used to do my homework in that diner,” I reply. Time is speeding by. Days turn into months and years, and before I know it, Jerome and Maggie are moving away. “Twenty years ago, the Grand River wasn’t doing great. Both my parents worked at the casino, so after school, I’d sit in that diner, and Maggie would keep an eye on me.” I shake my head. Carter and I used to eat breakfast at their diner at least once a week. When was the last time we were there? It’s been six months. Maybe even longer. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off. You were saying that Randall Paulson was amenable to the sale?”
“He was,” Raj replies. “He isn’t anymore.”
“If Jerome and Maggie want to stay, we look elsewhere. I’m not pushing them out of their diner, Raj.”
“Nita warned me you’d say that,” he replies. “But that’s not it. The diner is closing on schedule. They’re still moving away. Paulson just refuses to sell.”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. Denton Mitchell again? My lips thin. Mitchell is rapidly moving from a nuisance to a serious disruption. “I’ll look into it,” I tell Raj grimly. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
Just after noon,Mitchell walks into my office.
Denton Mitchell is the wrong side of fifty. Red-faced. About fifty pounds overweight, and his suit is working overtime to disguise it. Kudos to his tailor. His hair is thinning, and his forehead is beaded with sweat.
I lift my head. Nita must be at lunch, otherwise she’d have never let him walk in here. Nita is five-feet tall and probably weighs a hundred-and-twenty pounds soaking wet, and I’d still put my money on her. “Mitchell,” I say coolly. “To what do I owe this…” I pause for a split-second before finishing the sentence. “…pleasure?”
