Page 54 of Caruso
I refuse to show fear as he grips my neck and holds me hard against the wall.
“For raping a child.”
“What?”
My eyes widen as Giorgio hisses, “When security entered his hotel room, they found a young girl tied to the bed. She was twelve years old.”
I am disgusted as he hisses, “It turns out he used the cash he stole to bid in an auction and she was his prize. He brought her back to the hotel and, luckily for her, my security team interrupted his reward.”
I feel sick as I picture what could have happened to her. “Where is she now?”
“We did the right thing and handed her over to the authorities. I told them that Oscar must have slipped town, which means I get retribution in a more brutal way. He won’t be buying any kids in the future when I have finished with him because, my darling, his hand won’t be the only body part I take from him.”
His words wash away any compassion I had for Oscar and light my interest even further in my brutal hero. That is what he is to me — a man who dishes out tough justice far better than any judge or jury.
Imagining men like Oscar ruining young girl’s lives causes the beast to sharpen her claws inside me. As Giorgio stares into my eyes, an understanding passes between us, and I’m almost sorry when he drops his hand from my neck and says huskily, “Now, follow me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Giorgio
It would be so easy to do the same as Matteo and keep Taylor in the bedroom. Sex is the ultimate ending for us today, but she is more than that. She’s more than that to Matteo, but he’s so addicted to her he is selfishly keeping her his prisoner.
She needs to get out.
To learn what being a Caruso involves and I am the perfect man for the job. Tommaso has yet to declare his intentions toward her, but it’s merely a matter of time. He wants her. I see the deep yearning in his eyes as they follow her wherever she goes.
It’s eating him up inside because it goes against everything he believes in. Sharing women isn’t really our thing—we’re selfish pricks and demand exclusivity. Until now.
I seize Taylor’s hand as soon as the elevator reaches the basement, and as we step outside, her eyes widen as the hotel buzz washes over her. Sounds of the gamingmachines, the general hum of conversation, shouting, laughing, music. Objects being moved, the sound of machines whirring around — and that’s just the noise.
Then there’s the visual onslaught. Bright lights, flashing screens, the paintings on the walls, the chandeliers sparkling overhead.
The Artemis is extreme, which is exactly how we wanted it to be. A vulgar paradise in a vulgar yet beautiful city. Vegas is a city on crack, a collision of experiences on one long strip. People chancing their luck in a variety of ways, from hustling on the streets or in the casinos. Conventions, vacations and business trips. They all come here to gaze at the spectacle, the likes of which are exclusive to Vegas. No other city in the world matches this one—where anything goes and everything happens.
Taylor grips my hand hard, and I note the curiosity of my staff as they take their first look at the woman who has become the Caruso obsession. I’m guessing good news travels fast. It’s the talk of the city that a mere housekeeper has earned her way into the penthouse after her first day of work. From rags to great riches on a whim. They will be curious, envious and derogatory, but not in front of me or they will suffer the consequences.
I pull her along at speed, cutting a path through the many people who have descended on our hotel, and as we pass the various areas set up, we wander into the town center.
“Wow.” Taylor gasps as we appear to have arrived in another country.
There is a huge lake in the middle, and I mean enormous. There is even a sailboat floating majestically on the rippling water. A dining experience for the wealthier of our guests.
A small jetty enables the clientele to make their way there, and all around are bars, cafés and shops, creating the image of a thriving Mediterranean town. Even the ceiling reflects the blue skies and sunshine, courtesy of a painted mural with changing lighting. Heat lamps burn down, replicating the sun, and refreshing air conditioning is reminiscent of the softest cool breeze.
“I have been here before when I applied for the job as housekeeper, but somehow it looks different now.”
Taylor’s voice is excited, happy even, and I smile, gripping her hand a little tighter.
“Because you are happy. You have nothing weighing you down, and you can see things differently now.”
“I suppose.”
She gazes around her in awe and whispers above the noise, “This place is a masterpiece.”
“For now.” I shrug. “Until the next hotel opens and becomes the brightest new star. Going further and faster to create the ultimate luxury experience. Securing the best acts for their shows and the finest interior designers. You need to be constantly running in Vegas to keep up.”
“Is that why you told me to wear comfortable shoes?”
