Unspoken Obsession (Casino King #4)

20. Dante

DANTE

O ur night together is even more magical than I have fantasized it would be.

Falling asleep with her in my arms is better than I could have imagined.

I hold her close, and sleep finds me, the scent of her hair and skin soothing my dreams.

The steady rhythm of the train as it travels around the city is like a lullaby.

We made love twice more before we both fell asleep.

And I even now, as soon as I wake up with her in my arms, I want her again. Her body is warm against mine, curved and fitting against me as though she belongs here.

She stirs, restless. She mutters something in her sleep, waking herself up. I listen, but I can't make out what she's saying. When her beautiful green eyes blink at me and that soft smile traces across her lips, I lean down and kiss her. "Morning, little fox," I say quietly.

"Morning." She mumbles, snuggling her face into my chest.

When we are awake, which is a slow and lazy process, we enjoy a coffee and an English breakfast on the train.

Then the conductor announces over the intercom that we are nearing the end of our journey.

I don't want to go back to the city - back to my normal life. This night with her has been incredible.

Finding out that she is the woman from the gala - it allowed me to really open up and accept that I am falling for her.

It was always there - this connection. It's the reason I couldn't stay away from her. But now what am I supposed to do about this?

I still don't know who she is. I know nothing about her life apart from what she has shared with me, which is nothing.

I know I have some very intense feelings towards her - but what do I do with those feelings?

I'm obsessed with finding out everything now.

"I have had an incredible time, Dante. I don't want it to end yet."

"So did I, little fox. When will I be able to see you again?"

"I'm not sure. Soon I hope."

The train comes to a stop, and we leave the breakfast table. Both of us were lost in thought. I think we are both processing the truth - and a little sadness at having to leave. This was an escape from the reality of my life, but there was always something waiting for me.

The drive back to the casino is quiet but comfortable. I have my hand on her leg the entire way and I keep glancing over at her - right at the same time as she glances at me. We laugh every time it happens.

I wish she was comfortable enough with me to tell me what she was running from. What made her go to Canada? It's fucking cold there, and I can see she is a summer person. The sun loves her, it kisses her skin and makes her features glow. I can't imagine her trudging through the snow.

I know I will find out one way or another - I just wish she would tell me.

Outside the casino, in the underground parking area where she left her car, I pull her close to me and hold her against my body for a long time.

"Frankie, please don't disappear on me."

"I won't disappear." She promises with a sparkle of regret in her eyes as she gazes up at me.

I let her go and stood there, watching her climb into her car, and pull away. To where - I have no idea. It takes all my self-control not to follow her, to let her keep her secrets.

Glancing at my watch, I only have about thirty minutes before I meet with Lorenzo. It might be just enough time to run upstairs and take a quick shower before I start the day.

Back in work mode, surrounded by the noises of the casino, my mind is stuck back on my sister's disappearance and the things Lorenzo wants to discuss.

I wonder what it is he has found.

I don't have to wait long to hear.

In no time at all, Lorenzo and I are seated in a private section at the downstairs restaurant.

He orders a coffee, and I order the same.

"Alright, what can you tell me? Did you find out anything about Antonio Musetti?" I will not sit here waiting. I want to know.

He nods. "You are going to love and hate this," he sighs, strumming his fingers on the table. He only does that when he's worried, or anxious. I don't like it. It means that whatever he has found out is bad enough that he is afraid to tell me.

"You'll love it because I think it means we have found the link we were missing, but you'll hate it because of what it is—" Why is he stalling?

"Just fucking spit it out already, man. Stop fucking around."

"Sorry." He sighs, pushing his hand through his short, cropped hair.

"Antonio Musetti. Do you remember a few years ago when we investigated him and there were some really hushed rumors about him being involved in human trafficking - but the more we looked into it the more it looked like a load of bull shit made up by one of his ex-wives."

"Yeah, I remember." I fold my arms across my chest and lean back in my chair, trying to stop the buzz of rage that is radiating through me.

I am feeding off Lorenzo's energy, and it's prickling with the need to smash something.

"Well, I went on a little mission to ask again - more reliable people who are close to Musetti but owed us a favor or two. It turns out the rumors weren't really rumors at all." He wouldn't make an accusation without proof, and if there is proof, then Musetti is a dead man.

"Musetti is involved in human trafficking. Lorenzo, are you sure? Because this is a heavy accusation. This is big. This changes everything. If I take this to my associates, it can't be a rumor."

"Look, Dante, I don't have physical proof. I don't have photos or witnesses - I have the word of some people who I do trust, though." He shrugs, but his leg is bouncing beneath the table. He is uncomfortable.

I know why.

Because if he's right - then my sister might have been taken - and sold off to some fucked up pig anywhere in the entire world. Those auctions are online, and they are open to any scumbag with money -- the worst of humanity. They are another type of fucked-up. I can't pretend I have not seen it, the pretty women at parties. The 'sex slaves' that they drag around with pride when they should have their cocks cut off and fed to them. The reality of this - it's terrifying.

I would have preferred it if she ran away and just never wanted to see me again. Anything else.

I take a deep breath, processing the information separating my emotions from the rational reactions I need to handle this.

But I can't. Not right now.

I need time.

"Did you find anything out about the girl? The card counter?" I flip the conversation because the image of Dani chained to a pole in some rich man's living room makes me sick.

"Man, you can just admit that you have a thing for her? I can see straight through you."

I glare at him. "I don't—" I stammer. Then give up. "Whatever. Just tell me what you found out about her."

He smirks.

"I have a thing for her, a massive fucking thing. It's called a hard-on. What do you know?" Fuck him.

"It's not that great either. I don't know who her family is yet, but I can tell you that the thugs were 'bodyguarding' her - they work for people high up in the mafia. Whoever her family is, there are criminal ties there. She isn't just a rich kid with an overprotective dad, she is untouchable."

"How is it so difficult to find out who someone is?" I mutter in annoyance.

"The richer people are - the easier they can hide. Or she is hiding or running from something or someone so bad - that she has learned to be fantastic at not giving things away. Witness protection, maybe?"

"Maybe a bit of both. I get the sense that she is afraid of her family. Her father. Whoever he is, she doesn't seem to like him at all." Maybe she pays for the goons to keep him away. I hadn't considered that option. Witsec is just dumb. They would never put someone in Vegas with a bodyguard; it's too obvious.

"Alright then—the last thing on the agenda is the tunnels. What happened last night?"

Lorenzo nods. "Yeah, saving the best for last — we caught a sewer rat. Early hours of this morning."

"Alive?" I say in shock. "Why didn't you call me straight away?" I want to deal with this infestation down there. To send a message.

"Not to worry. We have him chained up and waiting for you to have a few words with him. He's not going anywhere. I was letting him piss his pants for a bit. But when you are ready, he is waiting in the cold storage room."

"This is great news. Leave him for now. No water. Make it cold in there. I'll be down there as soon as I can."

My meeting with Lorenzo ends, and I leave with more questions than answers. At least we have a lead on the trespassing in the tunnels—but Frankie remains a mystery.

I thought that by now he would know Frankie's full name - or her father's name. I thought he would have something for me.

And then finding out that shit about my sister's disappearance, having something to do with that asshole Musetti being involved in human trafficking - that makes me sick to my stomach.

And why, still, after all this time - do I think Frankie is connected to whatever happened to my sister? It's not like she did anything or said anything about my sister. As far as I know, they never met or crossed paths. It's an odd intuitive whisper that won't shut up.

I can't ignore it. It's been bothering me for too long.

Frankie needs safety. I don't know what she has been through - but I want to be a safe space for her. One day, she will see that I am on her side. I have to be patient with her, wait it out, and in the meantime, I need to keep her close to me - to uncover the truth and keep her out of harm's way.

I don't think I will ever see my sister again. I don't know where she is or if she is even alive - but Frankie is right here in front of me, and I have a chance to save her from whatever she's so scared of.

I will do my best.

I go to my penthouse, needing some private space and silence to think about what has come to light. Trafficking is not a business any of my associates would dabble in, and across the globe, the law is cracking down. They are sniffing out offenders everywhere -- celebrities, and politicians. They made an example out of a movie producer. It is not an honorable trade; I sell things - not people.

I sit out on my balcony sipping a whiskey trying to piece together all the information and connect the dots.

Now that I've confirmed Frankie is the woman from the gala - and she knows I am that man - I wonder if she will be more open with me? Less secretive. Will she be as interested now that the mystery is gone?

I pick up my phone to text her. I want to see her again.

I want to see where this connection with her leads, to build on the physical attraction and see beneath the surface.

The more time I can spend with her, the more I will learn about her.

Me: Hello, little fox. I've been thinking about you all day. Wondering where you go when you leave my side and want you back with me the moment you do. Can I see you tonight? Will you come to the penthouse for dinner?

Frankie: Hello The Shadow from my past. I would love to see you tonight. Can I be there at six? I wanted to talk to you - there are some things that maybe you should know about me before we take things any further.

My heart is pounding when I read her message. So, this means finding out who I am and telling her my name - it will all be worth it because it has built trust between us. She wants to talk to me, to open up.

Me: I will see you at six. I promise you that no matter what you share with me, you are safe with me.

I don't know how I am going to stay calm and collected until six tonight. I want to see her now. I've waited so long to hear her secrets.

Once I find out what she has been hiding, I can figure out how to help her - what I can do for her.

I guess there is one sure way to distract me from the waiting.

I make my way underground, far below the magic theme of the casino, into the dark and grungy world of my other life.

I have a man to speak to.

"Where is he?" I ask the manager, walking into his cold office. He doesn't seem to notice the cold, and even when I asked if he wanted to sort the air out, he said no.

"He's in cold storage three."

"Thanks."

I take off my jacket, leave it on a hook on the back of his door, and then leave the office rolling my sleeves up.

The smell is astounding when I enter the cold damp, confined space we have the man chained up in. He is hanging with his hands bound above his head. His feet are off the ground, just like the carcasses of the wild animals we smuggle in and out -- only he's alive, and has pissed his pants in fear.

He looks almost dead, and if it wasn't for the shallow breathing I see in the rise and fall of his rib cage, I would have been pissed off. You can't question a dead man. Dead men tell no lies and spill no truths.

My crew has already worked him over. He either tried to run or got cocky with them.

I kick his leg and his body swings, making the chain clink.

"Hello," I say, and he tries to blink his heavy eyes open. One of them is too swollen. He stares at me with the eyes of a man full of regrets.

"The Shadow." He mumbles through cracked, dry lips.

"So, you knew who you were fucking with when you broke into my tunnels." I walk around him, looking him up and down.

He must be freezing. They have stripped him down to nothing but his underwear.

"I—I?—"

"You what?"

"Please just kill me." He says, tears spilling from his eyes. He is desperate. And that tells me enough.

"Not until you tell me who you work for."

"I can't—my family."

This confirms my suspicions. Whoever sent him here is powerful enough to put enough fear into him he would choose death over speaking a name.

"I can protect your family if you give me what you want."

"No—no you can't. No one can."

There is only one man who could create that kind of fear. He didn't need to snitch, saying nothing was enough.

I grin. The darkness in my smile makes the man tense and his body goes rigid with fear.

"Antonio Musetti," I say, watching his face. The old man is making bold moves, swerving out of his lane and into mine.

He shakes. Cortisol rushed through him. "No. No. I didn't tell you that. I didn't say a fucking word. No. Please, man. You can't do this."

I guess I didn't even need to get my hands dirty today. That was easy.

I step away from him, watching him kick and swing in his restraints. "My family. I have to get to my family." He screams as horror tears through him. The cuffs are cutting into his wrists and blood is flowing down his arm.

I walk out of the cold room and back into the manager's office.

"And?" he says, looking up at me while I shrug my jacket back on.

"I got what I wanted."

"Who was it?"

"Musetti."

"Fuck." The manager says with wide eyes. "Musetti. What do you want me to do with the guy? Are you going to question him again?"

"No. Leave him there for now. I'm still deciding." I say, walking away.

I am getting somewhere. These attacks were no coincidence; they were orchestrated by him to disrupt my supply chain. I know who is behind it; I will find out why, and I will deal with it.

Now I can relax and enjoy my evening with Frankie—and tomorrow I can focus on the Musetti problem.

To prepare for her arrival, I order us a platter of food from downstairs, a bottle of champagne, and a few artisanal chocolates for dessert.

I put some soft music on in the background, classic rock, and pour myself another whiskey. I need to calm down. A lot has happened; I've made progress.