Page 146 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

I take a deep breath, staring out at the sea of faces gyrating on the dance floor here at Verve, my current nightmare. The numbers have been dropping steadily for the past month and there’s only one way to stop the bleeding.

And that’s to cut someone’s jugular.

Metaphorically, of course.

Because the only way I can save my livelihood is to kill someone else’s.

Unless he tries to screw with me.

Then, all metaphors go out the window.

“You really think your plan is gonna work?” Enrico asks.

I pull my eyes away from the dance floor and lift an eyebrow at him. “Nobody turns me down, Enrico. I always make offers that are impossible to refuse. This time next week, we’ll be on our way to owning this city. Shit, we’ll have more pull than the goddamn mayor.”

A smile tugs at my lips. I haven’t been out here long, but my footprint will be deep if I can make this deal.

And like I said, I always deliver.

Enrico claps me on the back and goes back to his position at the front of the club. I take a long gulp of the chilled scotch in my glass and swirl around the ice cubes, scouting the thin stream of patrons trickling in. My lips press together into a tight line because I know where the crowds are anxiously waiting on a mile-long line right now.

Fucking Nate Torres and his string of sex dens.

Soon, you’ll be mine. All of you.

I take another sip, draining the glass, and as I lower it, my gaze connects with a group of women who just entered the club. Blonde, huge tits, short, tight dresses that barely cover their asses. They’re giggling, clearly intoxicated as evidenced by the way they can barely walk a straight line in their ridiculously high heels.

I barely blink an eye as they pass because for Vegas, girls like that are a dime a dozen. Hot but old. Tired. As in, no challenge.

Stifling a yawn, I push away from my secluded spot against the wall and prepare for another lap around the place. I shake my head as I walk. This place should be so damn crowded that I have to shove past people. I don’t even come close to grazing someone’s shoulders, for fuck’s sake.

The place is dying, just like the other clubs we own.

I let out a frustrated sigh, sweeping a hand through my hair as I lift the near-empty glass to my lips to suck down the last drops.

Just focus on the deal, Serge. And the future you’re about to make for your?—

Crash!

My body lurches forward, the glass flying out of my hand and shattering on the floor.

No danger to anyone since there’s a big open space in front of me.

Cue the sarcasm.

I twist around, just in time to be knocked against a nearby wall by a massive guy who’s pawing at me to keep his footing. I shove him away from me, straightening my jacket.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I growl at the drunk asshole who just barreled into me, grabbing him by the shirt collar and flipping him around so that he’s pressed against the wall.

His eyes are glassy and he snickers, the stench of stale beer on his breath. “Fuck off, dude. Don’t be such a tight-ass.”

I slam him hard against the wall. Again. “What did you just say to me?”

“Look, it was-sn’t my fault, okay?” he slurs. “It was her, that bitch behind you. S-she pushed me into you.”

“Because you grabbed my ass!” an angry voice from behind me bellows. “Do I look like an animal at a fucking petting zoo?”

I tighten my grip on him, bringing his face close to mine so he doesn’t miss a single word. “This isn’t a brothel. You either keep your fucking hands to yourself or I cut them off.”

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