Page 7 of Don’t Say Mafia

No matter how things felt lately, no matter how disappointed or worn thin I was, there were lines I didn’t cross. I wasn’t going to become someone I didn’t recognize just because my life hadn’t ended up like I wanted it to.

“Eden!”

I barely had time to pivot before Leigh practically collided with me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, her ponytail swinging like she was powered by pure caffeine and chaos. Leigh was friendly with everyone, incapable of whispering, and always five seconds away from spilling gossip she somehow collected on a daily basis, even though I was pretty sure most of our coworkers knew not to tell her anything.

“Oh my gosh,” she stage-whispered, gripping my arm. “You are not going to believe this.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Believe what?”

She bounced on her toes. “The hottest man alive just sat down in the high roller room.”

I snorted. “That’s a bold claim.”

“I’m serious,” she insisted. “He’s tall and blond . . . and expensive—looking,” she said with a wink. “All my favorite flavors in one.”

“And very unhealthy-sounding,” I said dryly.

She waved me off. “Everyone’s freaking out. Dealers. Security. Even Mark at the pit stopped pretending he doesn’t care about anything. He must be someone important.” She leaned in close like this was all classified information. “I’m telling you,” she whispered, “if I don’t end up in the high roller room tonight, I might die. I just need one excuse. One drink run. One accidental bump. Men like that love a good meet-cute.”

I snorted. “I’m pretty sure men like that actually love not being bothered.”

She waved me off. “That’s quitter talk. I just have to get in the room. Once I’m in the room, it’s game over.”

“That’s not how rooms work,” I said.

“That is exactly how high roller rooms work,” she insisted. “You don’t understand. This man looks as if he could buy the building and forget he did it. I am not passing that up.”

She was mid-rant, already plotting her angles, when someone stopped beside us.

“Eden.” Carl’s voice cut cleanly through Leigh’s enthusiasm. She startled and pushed out her breasts as though a switch had been flipped when he appeared. I was pretty sure they were sleeping together, but Leigh tended to be like that with every man . . . so I wasn’t quite sure.

“Yes?” I asked.

Carl, the casino manager, didn’t even give Leigh a glance. His attention was fixed on me, sharp and businesslike, and I immediately straightened, thinking whatever he had to say had to be important. “I need you in the high roller room.”

Leigh froze.

I blinked. “Me?”

“Yes,” he said. “You’re steady. You know how to behave with our biggest VIPs. This guest expects professionalism and discretion.”

Leigh’s head snapped toward me so fast I was surprised she didn’t get whiplash. Her wide eyes locked on to mine immediately, and her brows lifted just slightly as if she could force the word no into my mouth without saying it out loud.

“I already have a section,” I said lamely as Leigh continued to try to stare holes in my head.

“I’ll have it covered,” Carl replied smoothly. “I need you at your best for this. Be polite. Agreeable. Make sure he has everything he wants . . . before he wants it.”

“Of course,” I said, ignoring Leigh this time. Even if I wasn’t sure exactly what Carl meant by that last part. As much as I liked my coworker, the tips were much better in the high roller room, and with how things were going in my life, I couldn’t afford to say no. I also couldn’t afford for Carl to fire me because I’d said no. So there was also that.

He nodded once, satisfied, and walked away without another word.

The second he was gone, Leigh stared at me in open betrayal. “You’re kidding me,” she hissed. “You’re going in there?”

“I didn’t ask to,” I said, shifting the tray on my shoulder.

“But I was going to get in there,” she protested. “I was this close.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You were standing by the bar, talking to me.”