Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“Oh, and Alonzo and his daughter are already downstairs too,” he adds.
“He brought Serena? I don’t remember inviting everyone’s family members to my gala.”
“He said that he thought bringing Sera might be advantageous, since she’s part of the dance world. He thought maybe she could monitor Madame Durant for you.”
It’s not a bad idea.
“Fine,” I say. “But I don’t want that girl talking to Isla. I’m not sure how well the two dancers know each other, and I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Understood.” Junior talks into his earpiece and advises Alonzo of my directive. “Yes, that’s what the boss—”
I look up when Junior cuts off mid-sentence to see what’s caught his attention, and when I see Isla standing in the hallway just outside the living room, my breath stops.
She is stunning.
“I’d say I picked out the perfect dress,” Zara says upon seeing my reaction. “What do you think?”
I can’t even bring adequate words to my lips. I’ve seen nothing so lovely in my entire life. Throughout my time, I’ve encountered many beautiful women who have visited my casino and attempted to end up in my bed. But never—and I mean never—have I seen a woman this gorgeous.
Isla’s chestnut hair falls in thick curls against her bare shoulders, the tips of it just touching the top of her black, sequined cocktail dress that hugs her slender curves like a glove. Her svelte, dancer’s figure and long legs peek out from the dress that barely reaches to cover the top of her thighs. How she balances on her high heels makes it look easy as she walks toward me with effortless grace. Once I considered destroying this exquisite creature, but now I only want to worship her, as if she is the goddess who has finally been able to match me. A new need rises within me—I don’t simply want to keep Isla; I want to possess her.
“You look very nice,” I say when I collect myself. It’s a drastic understatement, but I’m not going to allow her to see my desire, even if I have to make a conscious effort to keep it from visibly presenting itself, as it now threatens to do with the tightening of my pants.
“Thank you,” Isla smiles. There is such an unspoken beauty about her, it’s nearly breathtaking.
I hold out my arm for her to take as Junior opens the door for us. When we step onto the elevator, I lean closer to whisper in her ear.
“Remember, my little ballerina, tonight you belong to me.”
“How could I forget?” she says almost teasingly. Her light brown eyes sparkle as she looks up at me, and I am instantly enthralled by her willingness to play along with this charade tonight. Obviously, she doesn’t have much of a choice, but how she’s handling it seems convincingly willing.
The elevator reveals the casino’s main floor, a glittering, crowded scene. Tonight is a private event. This event is exclusive; only my invited guests are present. It’s hard not to notice how all eyes turn to stare at us as we step off the elevator. Normally, I would attribute that reaction to one of fear and respect—an acknowledgment from my guests that they revere my reputation as a brutal mafia boss. But tonight, I think they are staring at Isla. Her beauty commands the room in a way that my power doesn’t. It’s a sort of awe and appreciation that rivals the power of fear and loyalty that I normally elicit.
I feel her hand tighten around my arm as we walk into the crowd of waiting guests, and I glance over at her in surprise. Quickly, she loosens her grip again as if it were an involuntary reaction of nerves, not unlike stage fright. She’s fast to correct herself and not show me any weakness, and it makes me think that I’ve vastly misjudged Isla. She’s not just a fragile ballerina; she’s strength and subtle power cloaked in innocence.
I mingle with my guests, solidifying new business deals and arrangements with a single nod and handshake. I keep Isla on my arm beside me the entire time. Mostly, all she does is smile and nod, which is what I expect her to do. But when Alonzo walks toward us with his daughter in tow, I can feel Isla bristle.
“Hello, Isla,” Sera greets her with a tight smile. “I haven’t seen you at the studio in a while. How have you been?”
Sera’s tone is almost as sharp as her pointed nose and high cheekbones. The bun on the back of her head looks like it’s so tight that it’s pulling the skin on her face upward. She’s pretty, but has the jagged, harsh features of her father.
Alonzo laughs and gives his daughter a warning pat on the side of her arm. “You know where she’s been, Serena. Don’t cause trouble, you twat.”