Darkest Sins - Page 95

He’s nearly upon me, his limb a just few inches away, when Kai’s arm shoots over my shoulder. The barrel of his gun presses to the bridge of Lotario’s nose.

“Back. Off.”

“Nera?” Loratio goes still, his eyes cross, staring at the gun. “What’s go—”

Kai pulls the gun away and backhands Lotario so hard, that the man ends up sprawled on the polished tile floor several feet away.

“It’s Donna Leone to you,” Kai says, then fires his gun. Shards of slate explode from the spot next to Lotario’s hand. “Come any closer to her than ten feet, and that’s going to be your brain matter.”

Lotario crawls back a bit, then stands up and starts dusting off his pants. His fingers are shaking.

“I don’t think you met my new chief of security, Lotario. Do take him seriously.” I smile and continue across the lobby in the direction of the meeting room. Kai comes up by my side and wraps his arm around my waist.

Lotario rushes after us, keeping close to a wall on our left.

“Um . . . What happened to Ernesto?” he asks while his eyes bounce from Kai’s face to his hand resting on my hip.

“Kai decided Ernesto wasn’t fit for his position. So he relieved him. Permanently.” I wait until Lotario is out of earshot, then pull on Kai’s sleeve and whisper, “‘It’s Donna Leone to you’?”

“I like the sound of it.” He looks down at me, his lips pulled into a small grin. “You were keeping secrets, too. Back then. Cosa Nostra princess, no less.”

“You never asked, demon.”

Kai’s face falls. “I know.”

The conference hall where the meetings are held is at the far end of the gaming floor, and I can feel a myriad of eyes on me the entire time I cross the distance. Big golden pendant lights shine down on the tables covered in green felt. The bold yellow pattern on the carpet matches the gilded relief decorations on the ceiling, making me feel as if I’m trapped in some weird maze and might not be able to escape. It’s still early, and the casino is not yet open, but there are dozens of employees buzzing around, cleaning and preparing everything for the customers about to arrive while secretly staring at me. I come here at least once a week, but it’s the first time I’m here not as Batista’s representative, but as the official leader of the Boston Family. There are no windows in the building, and, despite the space being huge, I feel as if there isn’t enough air.

I stop before the oak double doors with frosted glass panels in the middle and try to suppress a shudder. The urge to turn around and run away is overwhelming. My pause must be a heartbeat too long, and Kai’s hold on my waist tightens.

“Just give the word,” he says. “And I’ll kill everyone inside.”

I look up and meet my demon’s gaze. He seems relaxed, as if we’re out enjoying the night, but the look in his eyes is pure menace, and I can tell that his offer is absolutely serious.

Once, while we were still in high school, Dania and I had a sleepover, and we spent hours lying on my bed and talking about boys. I remember her saying that her dream guy would be considerate and nice, someone who would spoil her with presents and solve all her problems for her. It sounded ideal to my teenage ears. And as I stare at Kai’s hard eyes, I realize that I’ve found my dream man after all. Only, he is as considerateas a hurricane blasting over the shore, destroying everything in its path. A wild, unstoppable force, one that could easily solve all my problems, but who chooses to let me handle my own shit because I’ve asked him to.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” I smile and step inside the room.

* * *

Two and a half hours.

I look up from the printout of the revenues and lock my gaze with Kai’s. He’s leaning on the wall by the door, on the opposite side of the meeting room. The casino managers, sitting on the left side of the long conference table, are arguing across the dark-stained wood surface with the investors on the right, who are demanding various budget cuts. One of the moneymen starts shouting that he won’t be putting more capital into a business that’s showing a revenue decrease. I might be seated at the head of the table, but it feels as if I’m stuck right in the middle, being bombarded from both flanks.

The anxiety I’ve been feeling since before I even stepped a foot inside has multiplied several times over, but I’ve managed to keep it suppressed. Controlled. Detached. Composed. That’s all I’ve allowed these vultures to see because that’s the person I need to be in here. But at this moment, I feel like I’m going to burst at the seams, afraid I’ll break down in front of them. I don’t want to be in charge of this circus. I’ve never wanted to be in charge of anything. I just want all of this gone, so I can let go and have my meltdown alone.

“That’s enough,” I bark. My voice may sound steady, but the way I’m feeling is completely contrary to that state. “We’re done here.”

“What?” Lotario snaps from his seat at the end of the table. “I have workers coming tomorrow to update the flooring and light fixtures. These peanuts you’ve allocated won’t cover even 10 percent of the costs.”

“Then I guess you need to scale down your expenses,” I say.

Lotario keeps arguing, demanding additional funds. More men have joined the yelling, their voices drilling holes into my brain. I swallow, my eyes finding Kai again, still leaning on the same spot. Our gazes lock, and, just for a fleeting second, I let him see the panic I’m feeling. He pushes away from the wall and reaches inside his jacket, pulling out his gun. He raises his hand toward the ceiling, and the sound of a gunshot explodes in the confined space. The ornate golden chandelier, a smaller version of those hanging in the lobby, comes crashing down on the tabletop.

Absolute silence descends over the room. Investors and casino managers stare at Kai open-mouthed.

“The meeting is over,” he says nonchalantly and crosses his arms over his chest, leaving his gun in hand as a subtle exclamation mark on his statement.

“What . . .? H-how does he . . .?” Lotario stutters, his eyes glued to the shattered crystals spewed in front of him. “Nera, this is really not—”