Page 66 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
My stomach turns, and I make a mental note to ask Lorenzo not to assign this particular guard to me again. I’m thoroughly disgusted by what just came out of Aldo’s mouth, and I can’t tell what’s worse; the fact that Lorenzo’s father ran things like a monster, or that Aldo seems nostalgic for those days.
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking through the Wynn’s glittering corridors toward Chanel. The casino’s opulence is almost overwhelming with crystal chandeliers dripping from soaring ceilings, marble floors polished to mirror brightness, and the constant symphony of slot machines and hushed conversations about million-dollar hands. It’s Vegas excess at its finest, and honestly, I’m here for it.
The boutique is all gleaming surfaces and soft lighting, the kind of place where browsing feels like a luxury sport. Aldo settles onto a velvet chair near the dressing rooms, looking like a gruff gargoyle among the delicate displays.
I ignore him as he types on his phone, letting myself get lost in the racks of beautiful clothes. For the first time in my life, I don’t even glance at price tags. It’s intoxicating, this freedom to want something and just take it.
After thirty minutes of collecting an armful of dresses I don’t need, I feel that familiar itch starting under my skin. That restless hunger that’s gotten me in trouble since I was fifteen.
I want to steal something.
There are two other customers browsing, and I position myself away from both. The sales associate is folding silk scarves near the register, her back to me. Perfect.
A display of lipsticks catches my eye. I zero in on a deep red that would look amazing against my skin tone. My fingers close around it without hesitation.
The trick to stealing is confidence. Act like you belong, like you have every right to be there, and no one questions you.
I drop the lipstick into my purse and stroll toward the jewelry counter like I don’t have a care in the world. The familiar rush floods my system. Adrenaline mixed with rebellion, the intoxicating thrill of getting away with something.
The fact that I could buy everything in this store makes it even more exciting.
I’m examining a delicate gold necklace when a voice behind me makes my blood freeze.
“I saw you.”
I turn to find the sales associate standing there, all blonde highlights and barely concealed disgust. She’s looking at me like I’m something she scraped off her designer shoe.
“I’m sorry?”
My heart hammers against my ribs, but I keep my expression neutral. I’ve never been caught before. Ever.
“I saw you put that lipstick in your purse.”
“I didn’t do that.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “I would never?—”
She rolls her eyes. “Maybe we should check the security footage.”
I glance toward where Aldo was sitting, but the chair is empty. What the fuck? He can’t have just left me. Lorenzo would kill him.
“I’m calling the police,” she says, already moving toward the counter.
“Over a lipstick?” My voice cracks slightly. “That’s insane.”
“I thought you said you didn’t take anything?” Her smirk is pure malice.
Shit.
I can’t get arrested. Lorenzo would lose his mind, and honestly, I’m not sure I want to find out what happens when a mafia don’s wife gets hauled away in handcuffs.
“Look, I’ll just pay for it and we can forget this happened.”
“I don’t think so.” She reaches for the phone just as it starts ringing. Her eyes light up when she sees the caller ID. “Perfect. It’s the manager. She’ll want to speak to the police herself.”
This is spiraling fast. I start to pull out my phone to call Lorenzo, my cheeks already burning with embarrassment, when I feel a familiar presence behind me.
The air changes when he walks into a room. It’s like gravity shifts, pulling everything toward him.
I turn to explain myself, but Lorenzo’s attention is locked on the blonde behind the counter. His expression is calm, which somehow makes him ten times more terrifying.
