Page 69 of Her Guardian
I puff on my vape a few times before we get into Boyd’s SUV. I feel a tremor of excitement. I’ve never been to his place before. I’m not sure what to expect. A bachelor pad, with everything in disarray? A neat, tidy place carefully cleaned regularly, like Massimo’s mansion? Regardless, I’ll probably learn a little more about Big Mafia Boyd when he lets me into his lair.
“Right up here,” Boyd says, gesturing toward a building that almost looks like a skyscraper.
“Wow. Waldorf Astoria? When you said you had a condo near the strip with a nice view, I wasn’t expecting it to be this close,” I admit, glancing behind me. “You could practically walk here from Salvalagio.”
“Sometimes that’s faster,” he says, turning into the parking lot. “Traffic isn’t as bad this early, though.”
Boyd finds a parking spot and I wait for him to open my door. Another thing I’m getting used to: chivalry from this big brute of a man. I stay close to him as we walk into Waldorf Astoria. The moment we step through the doors, it feels like I’ve left Las Vegas and stepped into a different world. It’s even fancier than Salvalagio, with polished marble, soft lighting, and the kind of quiet that isn’t cheap in Sin City.
A gold-toned chandelier sparkles overhead, reflecting off mirrored columns. It’s a stark contrast from the other places Boyd has taken me. The smell of smoke, desperation, or spilledbooze doesn’t linger in the air like it does most places on the strip.
“Honestly, this looks like something from a postcard,” I say as we walk to the elevators.
Boyd smirks, glancing over at me. “They did renovations a while back. The Morandi family financed everything, when the bank wouldn’t come through for them, so several of us got good deals on the remodeled condos.”
“Oh, so this is where a lot of Mafia guys live?” I ask, a little nervousness in my voice.
“Nah, not anymore. Most of those guys sold the condos as soon as the price went up.” Boyd shrugs as we step into the elevators. He swipes a card that allows him to access one of the top floors. “Good investment, considering the price of real estate on the strip. A few guys still live here, but I rarely run into them.”
Even if Boyd got a good deal, it couldn’t have been cheap. I guess a guy in the Mafia doesn’t really have to worry about money like I do. Massimo is certainly wealthy, and based on what I’ve heard from Lea, so are a lot of the members of the Morandi family.
I glance over at him as the elevator begins its smooth ascent. It seems to rise forever before it finally dings, and the doors slide open to a private foyer. It’s quiet. Secluded. There’s only one door in front of us and Boyd’s keycard opens it. I follow him inside and my breath catches in my throat.
It’s not just a condo. It’s a freaking penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the open space like a panoramic movie screen, offering a glittering view of the entire Las Vegas strip. The sun glints off the buildings below. It’s dazzling. He even has a balcony.
“Wow, Boyd,” I breathe, walking into the main part of his condo. “My mom’s entire house would fit in here—even the upstairs and attic.”
“It’s just space,” he says, tossing his keys onto a black lacquer tray by the door, along with his cigarettes and everything else from his pockets.
“Easy to say when you don’t have much of it,” I say, my fingers trailing across a sleek sectional in the living room. It’s dark gray leather with steel accents, and the rest of the furniture seems to match. “The only place I’ve ever been able to call my own is my bedroom, and even that won’t be mine if I don’t make some money with my podcast. It’s either that, a real job, or college.”
“You know that really isn’t a problem anymore, Sarah,” he insists, stripping off his tie and walking behind me. “You’re mine now. You can do anything you want, as long as you run it by me first.”
“Mm, I don’t know about that,” I murmur, turning to him. “I’ll obey you in the bedroom, because I like it, and obviously I’ll run everything by you before I talk about it on my podcast. But…”
“But what?” he asks, leaning closer, some intensity flickering in his eyes. “You’re worried I’ll snatch your freedom away? Try toownyou?”
“Something like that,” I admit. “I’ve seen how Massimo is with Lea. It’s charming sometimes, but I’m not going to give up everything just because I’m yours. I can be yours, even if I don’t live in Las Vegas.”
“Then I’ll give you plenty of reasons to stay,” he rasps, putting his hands on my hips. “Maybe I’ll give you another one right now.”
“I thought you had to shower and get changed so you couldput in an appearance,” I tease.
“Nothing is more important than this,” he growls. “Us…”
My heart flutters a little. I can see it in his eyes. He means what he says. This is no fling for him. His words aren’t hollow.
“I’m not running away today, Boyd,” I sigh, looking down and resting my hands on his forearms. “And catching the Mafia Prince Killer is a lot more important than what is happening between us.”
“Maybe to you. You’re obsessed,” he says, pulling away and walking toward his bedroom. “Only thing I’m obsessed with right now is you, little girl. Finding that asshole is just part of my fucking job.”
“And you do your job well,” I say, following him and stopping at his bedroom door, admiring the space. “Which is why we need to focus on him. After that—we’ll figure it out.”
Boyd’s bedroom is as impressive as the rest of the condo. The bed looks like it is fit for a king, and I thought the beds at Salvalagio were luxurious. Gray and steel are still the theme, even in here. The sheets look like they match the sectional in the living room, down to the exact same hue.
“Did you pick all of this out?” I ask, watching as he undresses.
“No, I hired a decorator,” he answer, tossing his shirt over a chair. His condo isn’t pristine, but it isn’t messy, so even a discarded shirt looks out of place. “Why? Something you don’t like?”
