Jack of Spades (Vegas Underground 2)

A knock sounds on the door and I answer it. Stefano’s leaning against the doorframe in a perfectly-fitted tux, looking GQ worthy. “Hey, bella.” He gives me a lazy smile. “Are you ladies ready? The show’s about to begin.”

I pick up our bouquets and hand Sondra hers. “Ready as we’ll ever be.” I toddle out on my dyed-to-match stilettos, which seem to be a half-size too small.

We head to the doors for our big entrance. There’s an adorable flower girl and two little ring bearers. Sondra said Mrs. Tacone nearly had a meltdown, wanting every member of the family to be in the wedding party, but Nico ran interference. His other three brothers serve as ushers, which, even in their tuxes, makes them look like bouncers or bodyguards.

I’m the maid of honor and Stefano stands as best man, which means he’s the guy who walks me down the aisle. I try to ignore the little voice in my ear telling me this could be us. We could be the bride and groom. It feels so easy. So possible.

But it’s really not.

The ceremony is blessedly short. My Aunt Susie, Sondra’s mom, is wiping tears from the minute Sondra walks down the aisle until they’re declared husband and wife.

Afterward, we suffer through the photo shoot and then a sit-down dinner. I position myself in a seat near my mother and Sondra’s mom where I can watch everyone. I’m fascinated by the Tacone clan, the boisterous talking and gestures, the dark-haired good looks. Stefano and Nico’s mom is still lovely—clearly the source of Stefano’s beauty. And they have a younger sister, Alessia who is drop-dead gorgeous.

A full twenty-instrument band sets up and starts playing, and Nico leads Sondra out for the first dance.

Ugh, dancing. The thought of attempting anything but sitting in the damn bridesmaid shoes makes me grit my teeth. Fuck it. I’ll go find another pair. Who cares if they don’t match perfectly?

I leave for my hotel room. Outside the banquet room, a few people walk through the hallway, mostly hotel staff. But then a familiar figure appears and I stop in my tracks.

My dad smiles. “Hello, Corey.”

I’d like to say I remained cool and calm, but considering the chill that sweeps through me, I probably lose all the color in my face.

“What are you doing here? You weren’t invited.”

“I’m working.” Of all the things he might have said, this is the worst. He’s still working the murder case. Which means Stefano is still a suspect. Maybe there’s even more to it I don’t know. All of them could be under investigation: Nico, Leo, Stefano, Tony. Me.

I don’t care about me, though. Turns out I care about the Tacones.

A lot.

Whatever they’ve done—and I have to believe they’re not entirely innocent—I don’t want any of them to go down. In fact, I would do almost anything to keep that from happening.

“This is a fucking wedding,” I snarl. “Unless you have a warrant, you need to leave now.” I pull my phone out and let my thumb hover over the screen. “Believe me, I can call some guys who will be happy to throw you out.”

He grips my arm, way too hard. “What kind of idiot did I raise?” He’s been drinking. I smell it on his breath even though he seems perfectly in control. “You need to get away from these criminals, before they take you down with them—you and your little cousin.”

Little cousin. For fuck’s sake! I yank my arm away, but it takes some doing. I’ll have bruises there tomorrow.

“You know your boyfriend is my prime suspect?”

“Get out! I’m calling security.” It’s a bluff, though. The last thing I want is for the Tacones to know my freaking father is here.

This is my fault. My relationship with Stefano probably prompted his investigation. It’s just like my dad to need to ruin my life just to prove I was wrong. He was right.

My head suddenly aches. My stomach feels like I swallowed an anchor.

My dad gives a humorless chuckle. “I’m leaving. If you were smart, you would too.”

I watch his back as he walks away. I hate the man.

If the force of my hate was combustible, he’d go up in flames right now.

And I do just want to leave right now. My entire body feels the effects of the meeting; my hands tremble, head pounds.

“There you are,” Stefano says, walking toward me, an affable smile on his face. It fades when he sees me. “What’s wrong?”

I rub my temples. “Uh, I have a migraine.” Not a lie. “I’m going to head to my hotel room to take something and change my shoes. I’ll be back in a few, okay?”

He scoops me up into his arms. “Are those shoes bothering you? I’ll have to carry you, then.”

My laugh is forced. He frowns, looking down at me. “Did something happen?” His voice is suddenly quiet. Almost deadly.