Page 13 of Devil of Vegas

I give myself a moment to make sure this is what I want to do. Then reach for an abstract marble sculpture sitting atop a nearby table. The sculpture is heavy, and it has a pointed top. It should do nicely to pierce the glass if I throw it at the window with enough force.

The downpour intensifies, pounding the building, overflowing the miniature ledge mimicking a patio. There’s not even enough space to place a foot on or grab, so I need to be fast and careful.

After sucking in a deep breath and realizing that this is it—this is possibly the end of everything that I ever hoped to do with my life, thanks to a single moment in time that I can’t undo—I dig my heels into the floor to steady myself and put all my weight behind throwing the statue at the giant window. My strength surprises me momentarily as the glass shatters and the statue falls. I know Marco heard the crash and that he will flingopen the door any second now. One look down, and my stomach instantly feels like lead. The drop issucha big one. There isn’t a chance in hell that I’d survive that. My body would shatter into as many pieces as the glass window just did.

ButI’d be free again, I think for a second.

I turn and slip.

When a strong arm grabs me, and a hand digs into the side of my waist to pull me up, I gasp in surprise. I knew Marco would hear the shattering of the window, but I never heard the penthouse door open. Maybe the sound of my heart pounding against the inside of my ears was too loud to hear anything in that moment.

I open my eyes. I am evenmoreshocked when I see who it is that has hold of me.

“Vincent?” I call out in surprise.

Where the hell did he even come from, and how on earth did he reach me before I fell?

With a swift, smooth motion, he lifts me up and pulls me back from the broken window. His body is shaking furiously as he wraps one arm around my back and the other beneath my legs, cradling me against his chest so tightly that I can barely breathe. His muscles are tense and bulging, and his breathing is so labored and ragged that I can hear it. As he regains solid footing back inside on the floor of the penthouse, I look up at his face and stare at him in petrified awe.

The rain tousles his dark hair, and droplets of water are sliding down his chiseled cheekbones. Fierce blue eyes look back at me from between the strands of his hair with an intensity thatmakes my entire body tremble. Vincent’s grasp on me is so tight that I feel like his fingers will mark me with bruises.

“Junior, bring me a robe.” He commands.

Over his shoulder, I see Marco disappear into a bedroom and return in less than two seconds with a white robe folded over his arm.

“Now leave us,” Vincent tells him.

Marco hesitates for a second, and I imagine he’s wondering what Vincent is going to do to me as punishment for the broken window and the botched escape attempt on his watch. After the momentary hesitation, Marco does as he’s told and leaves the room.

Vincent sets me down on both feet and wraps the thick robe around my shoulders. Even though I was barely outside the window for more than a second, the deluge of rainfall soaked through my clothes, which are now pasted onto my body like a second skin. As he ties the robe around me, I stare at him in disbelief and stammer out a question.

“Why didn’t you let me fall?” I ask. “It would have solved your problem. I wouldn’t be able to talk about what I saw if I weredead.”

My last word makes him grimace, which is surprising considering that Vincent Moretti surely has no problem with things like death. Hell, he’s responsible for causing death to others with his own hands.

I can’t read his expression as he pulls me further away from the open window. But Icanread his body language, and it’s not at all how I would have expected him to react. Every action he takes,from wrapping the robe around me to tying my wet hair behind my head, exudes a mix of fervent anger and shaking panic. I don’t understand. My death would solve a lot for him. So why is he so upset? Sure, I can see why he’d be angry—especially since he’d have to repair the window and clean up the mess of my body on the street outside his building. But this isn’t just anger on his part, this is something else. The rain has tousled his dark hair, and droplets of water are sliding down his chiseled cheekbones.

“I should’ve let you fall,” he says after a long silence. “But I’m a selfish man.”

He stands there in front of me, close enough that I can feel his labored breath against my face. His black shirt is wet and clinging to the defined muscles of his chest and the one haphazardly pushed up sleeve on the arm that first reached for me reveals more of the ink that covers that part of his body.

“What?” I whisper, helplessly trying to mask the stirring of lust that seeps into my voice.

Vincent’s words indicate hewantsme alive, that he wants meherewith him. But that can’t be possible. I struggle to catch my breath as I stand there, holding his gaze. And I wrestle against the feelings swelling within me. This man is my captor, not my rescuer. He’s a villain, not a hero. So why do I feel a blossoming lust bloom inside my chest as I stand here, getting lost in his eyes?

I open my mouth to speak, unsure of what is going to come out. But before I can utter a single word, he turns on his heels and walks toward the door. Behind me, the gaping hole in the wall is letting rain cascade onto the penthouse floor. The wind howling up here makes me dizzy as the adrenaline fades and a sense of longing takes over. “I want the window repairednow,” Vincentsays as both Marco and another man step inside the penthouse. “This time with reinforced, shatterproof glass. Andsheis not to leave her room, do you understand me?”

Both men nod as Vincent leaves without saying another word.

“Come on,” Marco says as he leads me toward my bedroom. “I’ll get you a change of clothes and some warm tea. Stay in your room until I have fixed the window. I’ll be standing guard outside your door.”

I nod and glance back at the other man as Marco leads me to my room. I can hear him on the phone, calling someone to seal the window. As soon as I’m inside my room with the door closed, I try to calm myself and think back over the events that just unfolded. The wind’s howling up here, making me dizzy as the adrenaline fades and a sense of longing takes over.

CHAPTER 7

ISLA

It’s been a few days since I’ve been able to leave my room again. Since Vincent’s gone, Marco’s been my only companion. I’ve heard other men outside the door in the penthouse. One of them, the man who was here with Vincent the night that I broke the window, sounds like a real jerk. Now I can hear him out there talking with Marco on the other side of the door. “Don’t get too soft with her, Junior,” he warns. “Consider that woman nothing but trouble for Vincent; treat her like a hostile prisoner. If it were up to me, I’d havegotten rid of heralready.”

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