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Diego ‘fucking’ Fernandez will die, slowly and painfully, for the stunt he just pulled. His family has always been a thorn in the side of mine. But to openly try and take Shelby from me in public was a big mistake. Max will capture him tomorrow, and despite the war it will start, we’ll take him apart, one pound of flesh at a time.
“Tell me everything.” Shelby’s insistence floods into my fiery rage. “Is it true you smuggle women for sex?”
“Shall I get the car?” Max questions.
I shake my head. “No, open up my rooms upstairs.”
“Eaton.” Shelby isn’t happy at being ignored.
I put my finger to her lips to silence her.
“Wait.” I turn my attention back to Max. “We’ll come upstairs in a minute. I’m going to take Shelby to the cellar first.”
Max nods and walks away from us with Lena at his side.
“What’s in the cellar?” Shelby asks.
“The place where you get to know who I really am.” I motion for Shelby to follow me into the lift. I key in the special code, and we descend in silence to the basement. The lift stops, but we don’t get out.
“Did my father smuggle women?” Shelby asks in the silence.
I shake my head, “No, and neither do I. It is a part of the family business, though. I deal with the casino and security. My father runs the other aspects of the business, and yes, some of my money comes from those activities. Your father was involved with drugs.”
“Is that how my mother got hooked on them?’
The lift doors open.
“I can’t answer that. I was too young to tell if she took them or not, but I suspect she did, given the world they lived in and her current addiction.”
“Another fault of my father.” Shelby lowers her head.
I take her hand and lead her out of the lift and down the dark corridor underneath the vibrant hotel. Opening the door to the cellar, I allow Shelby to enter first. Her eyes go instantly to the glass cabinets on the wall that contain my collection of swords and knives. The weapons of torture I use to send messages to those who try to steal from or threaten the casino.
“Please tell me those are just for decoration?” Shelby looks at me. Her eyes wide open.
I shake my head. “I may not be involved in some of the darker aspects of the business, but that doesn’t mean I’m a saint. I like things my way. I’m a mafia boss, Shelby. I attended the best boarding schools, not just to receive a good education but to train how to fight and use torture skills.”
“Torture.” Shelby moves closer to the cabinets, carefully sidestepping the chair in the middle of the room with chains on it. “Like in the olden days. We learned about Henry VIII of England at school. He loved to torture people. He’d have them tied to a rack and stretched until their arms and legs were pulled out of the sockets.”
“I don’t have a rack, but some of my methods are old-fashioned. I’ve pulled out fingers nails. Cut off limbs. That sort of thing.” Shelby places her hand on her stomach. “That disgusts you?”
“I don’t think I’d be normal if it didn’t. You’re the man who calls me his, and I’m learning you like to chop people’s fingers off.”
“Fingers, ears, toes, tongues.” I step next to Shelby and point toward a large sword I purchased from an auction in London. It was used at the Battle of Bosworth, during the Wars of the Roses. Several years before Henry VIII was born. “Arms, legs…Heads when needed.”
Shelby turns quickly to face me. “You’ve killed people.”
“Yes.”
She rubs her stomach again. “I think maybe I should have gone with Diego.”
“He’s more modern with his choice of implements. He likes to shoot off limbs. Here in Vegas, there’s many a person unable to walk properly due to his torture methods.”
“What about the police? Don’t they stop you?”
I shrug. “We own them. Vegas is more secure with us in control. Tourists here have no idea.”
“Until they try to steal from you and you cut their head off.”
