Page 351 of Don’t Say Mafia

I smiled faintly. “I’ll remove it.”

The guy started shaking.

“Or worse,” I added.

Tears spilled down his face. “I’m sorry,” he blubbered. “I swear, I don’t usually do that—I won’t do anything like that again, I swear⁠—”

Cruz crouched beside me, studying him like a science project. “You know what the interesting part is?” he said thoughtfully.

The man looked at him desperately. “What?”

Cruz shrugged. “You didn’t think you were doing anything wrong,” he said. “You thought you were entitled.”

The guy’s mouth opened and closed uselessly.

Cruz glanced at the mangled hand still pinned beneath mine. “And tonight you just happened to grab the one woman in this building who comes with immediate consequences.”

He patted the guy lightly on the shoulder. “Bad luck, buddy.” Cruz pulled out his phone and typed a quick message.

Thirty seconds later, the back door opened, and two of our security guys stepped in.

“Get him out of here,” ordered Cruz.

The man looked between us wildly. “Thank you,” he gasped as they hauled him upright. “Thank you, I won’t—I swear I won’t—” He started crying again as they led him out of the room.

Cruz glanced at me, straightening his velvet fucking suit. “You know,” he said casually, “I feel like we handled that professionally.”

I considered it.

“Very,” I agreed.

CHAPTER 37

EDEN

By the time my shift ended, my feet ached, and my thoughts were tangled in one persistent loop.

Carl.

The new floor manager, Oliver, had stepped in without missing a beat. He’s been confident, organized . . . efficient. If I hadn’t worked alongside Carl for the last few years, I might not have questioned the transition at all. The casino hadn’t skipped a beat. The tables were full. The money was flowing. On the surface, nothing felt disrupted.

But Carl had been out on the floor just yesterday. And now he was apparently . . . gone.

Leigh’s tear-bright eyes and trembling hands kept flashing through my mind. I told myself she was panicking. She panicked about everything—bad tips, missed texts, divorce rumors.

Still.

I needed to ask Jagger.

Not because I thought anything bad had happened. Just because if Carl had been fired or quit suddenly, he would know. And if there was a perfectly normal explanation, then I could give Leigh something to make her feel better.

I stepped into the private elevator and swiped the keycard that granted access to the penthouse. The doors slid closed with a soft hiss, sealing me in. As it climbed, I caught my reflection in the mirrored wall. My eyes seemed dulled by hours under artificial lights, and my mascara was faintly smudged at the corners. Perfect. The casino had a way of draining the color out of you, like it fed on energy and left behind whatever was still standing.

The numbers ticked upward . . . but then the elevator didn’t stop. It passed the penthouse floor without slowing.

I frowned, glancing up at the display as it continued climbing. “That’s not right,” I murmured. I stepped forward and pressed the PH button again, but it just kept going. I hadn’t even known there were floors above Jagger’s place.

The car continued climbing for another few seconds, and then it finally stopped. There was a soft mechanical sound I’d never heard before, and then the doors slid open.