Savage Mafia King (Vicious Heirs #3)

Chapter Five—Marcus

I can feel Valentina staring at me as I prepare to drive us out to the poker night we're both headed to. I know she has a million questions, but right now, I'm not entirely convinced I want to answer them.

"What is it?" I ask, not turning around to face her.

"What?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You can't even tell I'm looking at you."

I finish pouring a drink and then turn to her.

"You are, though, aren't you?" I point out. "You didn't deny it."

She shrugs. She doesn't look like she wants to get into it. She plays her cards close to her chest, literally and figuratively, hence why I'm taking her to this poker night. And she has a hard time coming out with what's really on her mind.

"So, Isabella is going to be here tonight?" she asks me quietly.

"Yes, she is."

"Why?"

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Do these people have no faith in me at all?

"Because I need to make it look as though I'm really committed to her," I reply calmly, taking another sip of my drink as we wait for Gio to appear in the doorway. He's running a little late after having dinner with Elena, but he insisted that he be at the game tonight. Probably wants to get a look at Isabella close-up and decide just how much of a mistake he thinks this actually is.

"You think a girl like that is going to fit in at an event like this one?"

"What does that mean?"

"She's a sorority girl, isn't she?" Valentina asks. "She's... she's part of some Greek house."

"That doesn't mean she hasn't grown up as part of the Devereaux family," I point out calmly. "She knows this world just as well as we do. She just doesn't associate herself with it as much."

"So what is she doing with you?" Giovanni cuts in, stepping into the room as he does up the buttons on his jacket. His words, though not loaded, aren't entirely a joke, either.

"I already told you that," I reply, voice sharp. I don't want to get into this with him, not really. I don't want him to start trying to read more into this than he needs to. He's made himself clear, made his stance on what I'm doing obvious, but I'm not going to let him put me off now that the wheels are in motion.

"Are you ready to go?" he asks me, shifting the conversation.

"Is Elena not joining us?" I shoot back. I know bringing up his girlfriend, a relative innocent to all of this, is a low blow, but I don't want him to forget everything that went into the two of them getting together, either.

"Not her scene," Giovanni replies smoothly. "So. Ready?"

"Ready."

We head to the car and drive out to the location of the poker game. I won't be partaking, but I'll be overseeing it, given that it's run by the same group who handle my boxing matches. Every bit of cash that comes and goes through that organization has to go through me first, and I know it's in my best interests to keep watch over everything that happens.

I keep my eyes pinned to the road ahead as we drive, doing my best to still the doubts stirring at the base of my stomach. They've been so against this idea since I first came up with it, and there's a part of me that wonders if I'm making a mistake—the kind of mistake I might not be able to walk back when this is all over.

I'm the one in control here. That's what I have to keep telling myself. I'm the one calling the shots, the one doing everything right. She had to come to me for help. There's no way she would have even considered being seen with me if she hadn't found herself in this mess with her brother. She owes me. And she's been willing to go along with this plan so far. Why do I need to start second-guessing it now?

We arrive at the abandoned factory where the event is taking place. Isabella insisted that she could make her own way there, and sure enough, she's standing outside alongside a handful of the smokers who have been cast out into the night to take care of their filthy habit. She's wearing a long coat, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and I notice her face start slightly as I step out of the car. She moves toward me at once, drawing herself against my side, and I wonder if she's nervous, being here all alone.

"You took your time," she mutters. I cock an eyebrow at her. We're not in her territory any longer, and much as she might want to pretend she can handle herself, her nerves are obvious.

"This is Giovanni and Valentina, my cousins," I explain as the other two get out of the car behind me. Giovanni nods to her in greeting, while Valentina stands there, stone-faced.

"Nice to meet you," she offers, but neither of them returns the sentiment. Are they really going to act like this the whole night?

Before I can snap at them and tell them to pull themselves together, Sean, one of my organizers, steps out of the factory and waves me over.

"I need you to check out the credentials of one of our dealers tonight," he tells me, jerking his head toward the door. "Come on. We need to get started soon."

I put my hand on the small of Isabella's back and steer her into the factory. It's full of people, most of them just here to watch but a handful here to play. One or two of them would probably be recognizable on an international stage, given the enormity of their reputations, but the fair game, the honest one, isn't something that satisfies them. They always look for more, hence why they find themselves at these underground gatherings.

The crowd parts easily for me as I move through it, a few people stepping to the side to let me through, and I can tell that Isabella is impressed. As much as she commands respect in her sorority, I command respect here. The two of us are at the top of our games, just in very different parts of the world.

I reach the dealers and look through the credentials they've presented – each of them has to be vetted carefully if we don't want one of the players who doesn't do as well to turn around and claim that the whole thing was rigged against him. It's happened before, and chances are, it will happen again. We have to cover our asses in any way we can.

"Looks good to me," I remark, and I glance around to see Giovanni and Valentina over by one of the tables. They're looking over in our direction, and Gio leans in to say something to his sister. I'm sure they've got all kinds of shit to say to me about everything that has been going on here, but I'll be damned if I let it get under my skin.

The game begins a few minutes later, with a couple of the highest-rolling players taking their seats at the table. I move to the side to watch them, putting my arm around Isabella's waist. I can tell from the way a few of the people here are looking at her that she's attracting attention—and looking the way she does, that hardly surprises me. There are plenty of men here who would take great pleasure in moving in on a gorgeous young woman like her, but none of them will dare if they know she belongs to me.

"Have you ever played before?" I ask her softly, my lips nearly grazing against her ear as I speak.

She shakes her head. "Never."

"I think you'd be good at it."

She turns to me, an eyebrow cocked. "Why do you say that?"

"Good game face. That's the main thing you need to pull this off."

She smirks slightly. "Then yeah. I'd be great at this."

I like her attitude, like she knows she could take on anyone in this room and win. It's something I see a lot of in myself, and I guess she has well and truly proved that she's right, given all the success she has seen in the sorority.

I keep her close to me as the game plays out, a tense and close match, with more money on the table than most people in this city make in a year. It seems as though everyone in the room is holding their breath until the final hand is played and the international player lands his final triumphant blow.

"Fuck it!"

His opponent springs to his feet and storms away from the table. The crowd parts to let him through, seeming to sense that there's no point in stopping him. I chuckle. I can imagine I'd be in the same mood if I had just lost a stack of cash in front of a crowd of people.

People start to drift off to get drinks before the next game starts, and with Isabella still pinned to my side, I head over to check on our takings. One of the staff is looking over a lockbox, her brow furrowed as she goes through some of the notes within.

"What's wrong?" I ask her, lowering my voice slightly so I don't attract any attention.

"Looks like we're short on some money," she remarks, shaking her head and furrowing her brow. "I don't know why. I got everyone to pay up at the door, but there's something not right here."

"In what way? How much money are we short?" I press for answers.

She shakes her head again. "I don't know. I need to count again. I might have made a mistake..."

"Check again," I order her. "And let me know if it doesn't add up. If someone is stealing from us, we need to know."

Anger courses through my system. I hate the thought of someone fucking us over in that way, someone who has access to the money, trying to take from us. How fucking stupid would they have to be? They know what I do to traitors.

"What's going on?" Isabella speaks to me, pulling me back into the moment.

"Nothing." I'm harsher with her than I intended to be.

She draws back from me, clearly annoyed. "Hey, you don't get to speak to me like that—"

"Like what?" I reply, rounding on her. I know I should be doing a better job containing my irritation, but the truth is that she was an enemy until very recently. It's difficult for me to forget that.

Her face darkens. She takes a step back from me. I let out a low growl, irritated at the scene she's making.

"We're supposed to be putting up a united front here," I remind her. "Don't move away from me. Come here—"

"No, not until you apologize."

She crosses her arms over her chest. There it is, that sharp tongue, that snooty attitude—the reasons I've kept my distance from her all this time, despite how beautiful she is.

I roll my eyes skyward and then grab her arm and pull her into a darkened corner of the room.

"Where are you—"

I pin her against the wall before she can get another word out. The second game is going to start soon, but I'm not going to it until I'm damn sure I've made my point to her, once and for all.

"You don't speak to me the way you just did unless you want trouble," I warn her. "You understand?"

She struggles but doesn't break free from me. "I-I just wanted to help," she blurts out. "They said you lost money, right? Is something going on? Is there someone here working against you?"

"You seem to know a lot about it," I reply, narrowing my eyes, pushing my face close to hers. "Is it you, huh? Are you the one who's been doing this?"

She stares at me, utterly shocked. "What the fuck are you talking about? You think I need to steal money from you?"

"I think you need a lot of things you didn't realize until recently," I growl. "You wouldn't have been seen with me a few weeks ago, and now, here you are, on my arm, playing the attentive girlfriend. Right?"

She wants to argue with me, I can see it in her eyes, but she thinks better of it. She shakes her head. "I'm doing what I need to do, Marcus. This is all an act, remember?"

"All an act, huh?" I demand as I move a little closer to her, just a few inches between us. "You really still think that?"

"Marcus, what are you—"

But before she can get the word out, I press my mouth to hers and silence her completely.

I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I know, to everyone watching us, there's nothing wrong with the way I'm kissing her. As far as they're concerned, we're a couple anyway, and anything we do together is perfectly natural. But as my hands slide to her waist and I pull her against me, kissing her hard, my tongue thrust deep into her mouth, I know I've crossed a line I can't walk back.

I expect her to shove me off and tell me to leave her the fuck alone, but she does nothing of the sort. No, instead, she sinks into my arms, letting out a long, low sigh, her lips parting as she allows me to deepen our embrace. Her arms wind around my shoulders, her body giving in to me, her heart pounding hard against my chest.

And then, all at once, I come back to myself.

What the fuck are you doing?

Much as I don't want this to end, I know I can't let it go on. We're supposed to be doing this for a reason, not because we want each other. No matter how fucking hot she is or how sexy I find this defiant attitude of hers, I can't let things get more complicated than they already have.

I pull away and cover my mouth, not breaking her gaze for a moment. She stares back at me, her chest rising and falling fast, and reaches up with a shaky hand to touch where I just kissed her as well.

"I have to keep an eye on the next game."

I don't wait for her to respond before I turn and stalk off. Desire courses through me, but I ignore it. I'm not going to let her get the better of me, not a chance in hell, not when I know what she's capable of and not when we're only going to see this through until we accomplish our goals.

I pause by the table, where Giovanni is already waiting. He looks over at me, a strange expression on his face.

"You alright, Marcus?"

"Fine." The word comes out harsher than I intended it to.

I push down the irritation, trying to contain the fury that wants to get the better of me.

And as I look over my shoulder, I see that she's still staring after me, her lips still parted, like she's not yet done with the moment we just shared.