Page 493 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

CHAPTER7

ZENO

Iwalk back into the lobby, my eyes sweeping over the space, trying to ignore the sharp pang in my chest.

I’ve had to walk away from Lily not once, but twice, and I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel worse about it. I push back my hair. Damn this whole syndicate! These fuckers are messing with my life, and at this point, I don’t give a damn if they oust my family from their asshole alpha dog club. I did what was asked of me. How the fuck does that make me a black sheep?

I grit my teeth.

Screw it. I’m wrong for her, anyway. She’s an angel.

And I’m evidently the devil, at least, so everybody tells me.

I stalk through the lobby and back toward the casino. Sergio will be happy to see that the hotel is packed with people, although I think he’d prefer that they sit their asses in front of the thousands of slot machines in the casino rather than mingle at the lobby bar.

But for me, all of these people just represent a lot of headaches since my new ‘job’ as of a few weeks ago is handling the drunks who get too handsy and belligerent. I’m a fucking glorified bouncer, for Christ’s sake.

Sergio could have given me something else to do while I’m out here in Vegas. I look like fucking Secret Service with this stupid earpiece on. And the dark, imposing suit on my back doesn’t scare a single person. I may as well stand around in jeans and a t-shirt, twirling around a baseball bat. I bet I’d look way more intimidating that way. People probably wouldn’t pull as much shit if they knew I was gonna come after them swinging.

The days are painful, the nights excruciating.

And some of these dickheads who challenge me…oh, I’d love to take care of them my own way. Serge says to toss them out on their asses, but my fingers are itching to beat the shit out of someone.

Anyone.

I grit my teeth.

But I know I can’t.

No assaults. No beatdowns. No exposure.

“Zeno.” A smooth, sexy voice startles me and the angry voice in my head stops bitching when I turn around to find Rayleigh slowly approach. I stifle a smile as she takes her time to make sure I watch her swing her skinny hips left and right as she walks in her runway-model way. She’s been all over my shit since I walked into this place and uses her position as concierge manager to keep me close.

Someone always needs to be watched or reprimanded or escorted out or anything else that gives her an excuse to call me on my radio. Most of the time, her calls are bullshit and don’t amount to anything.

But tonight was different.

You’d think we had a slew of wild jungle animals storming the place judging by the amount of panic she laced into her voice when she called about the dog. Turns out, he was just hungry. And tired.

Poor Vito.

A small smile lifts my lips as I remember Lily murmur the name into his ear.

Lily, with her long, bouncy ponytail, glasses, and t-shirt about people sucking.

Which is absolutely fucking true, by the way.

She wasn’t the sexy vixen I remember from the club.

And before tonight, I’d have never looked twice at a girl like her. Not that she isn’t pretty without all of the makeup, because she is, like the kind of girl you’d see in those face wash commercials. Fresh and natural with smooth, tan skin. My fingertips twitch, anxious to skim over her glowing cheeks again.

And I know from that night at Vice that she actually has a brain. And depth. And enthusiasm for something other than partying.

Unlike all of the women I’ve ever been with.

I’m not complaining about them. Most of them were fantastic lays, but it was just that…and not that they could string together a coherent sentence between them. But as it happens, gorgeous, vapid women are pretty low-maintenance. Tell them they look hot, buy them a few drinks, and boom! They’re lifting their skirts for you.

My work never left me with time for anything more than that, anyway.

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