King of Diamonds (Vegas Underground 1)

“I don’t want to talk about her anymore, Nico.”

My heart stops. Restarts unevenly. I halt and turn her to face me, hold her other hand like we’re a bride and groom at the altar. “Do you want to talk about us?”

She nods. “I heard what you told my parents.” Her voice is choked.

My throat closes. “I want to marry you, amore. I want to figure out how to make this work. And it’s fucking complicated. Would you—” I draw a breath. “Would you want me if I had nothing? No casino, no family?”

Surprise flares in her eyes. She licks her lips. “You could create it all again. You could create anything.”

Now I’m surprised. I expected resistance, major convincing. She’s going easy on me.

“Does that mean—are you considering? Are you willing?”

Sondra

I didn’t know how badly I’d want Nico to hold me. To promise the moon and the sun or maybe just to take charge and carry me off. Tell me I’m his and he’s tying me to the bed until I swear it.

But I have to be strong right now. I have to be a big girl and choose for me.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

Nico drops to his knees, right there on the sidewalk. Tears blur my vision. “I need you, Sondra. I didn’t have a purpose to living before I met you. You brought light where there was only darkness. You give to me—receive me with no walls up. I don’t know how you do it, but I can’t live without you.”

“Get up, Nico,” I mumble between trembling lips. I try to tug him back to his feet. Tears track down my cheeks.

“I don’t even know what I can offer you, but I promise it will be everything I have. Everything.”

“Yes. Yes. Nico, I want you.”

He falls back and drags me down to his lap. People driving by are looking at us like we’re lunatics and I totally don’t give a crap. “You want me?” His voice is torn, broken.

I hold his face between my hands. “Yes. I do.”

The hardness returns to his face, but it’s not frightening, it’s thrilling. Because it’s steely determination and force. The same force that makes me quiver every time he sets his sights on me.

“Marry me?”

“Yes.”

He gathers me and pulls us both up to our feet. “Good.” He holds my hand and starts pulling me toward my house. His shoulders are squared, his walk brisk, like he’s heading to battle. “There’s just one major wrinkle to iron out. After that, I’m sure we’ll figure out the rest together. Okay, baby?”

“Yes. Okay.”

We arrive in front of my house and he goes straight for the car. “I have a bag of your things already—from the casino. Go say goodbye to your parents. Tell them we’re going to buy a ring and we’ll be in touch with a wedding date.”

He winks at me and leans against the vehicle.

I don’t mind seeing him restored to his cocky, bossy self. In fact, I rather love it, as much as I treasure knowing he humbled himself before me.

Nico Tacone, the powerful man who needs me.

Sondra

Nico’s quiet on the drive and he won’t say where we’re going. At first I think we’re driving to Chicago, until we eventually pull up at a Federal Correctional Institute in Pekin, Illinois, and I realize we’re visiting his dear old dad.

Nico turns to face me in the vehicle after we park. “I swear to Cristo, I will never ask this of you again. But I want him to meet you. I’m gonna try to get his blessing for our union.”

Nerves flutter in my belly, but I nod.

He nods back and we get out. “I’m on the approved visitor list. I have a contact who should be greased enough to let us both through.” We walk up to the check-in area and I watch Nico make eye contact with a guy who comes hustling forward. There’s a brief interchange, and suddenly we’re at the front of the line, being searched for weapons and escorted into the visiting area.

Don Santo Tacone comes in wearing his orange prison uniform. He’s an older version of Nico, but without any of the life in his eyes. They are cold, flinty orbs and when they flick over me, the cold shiver of death runs down my spine.

Nico produces a couple of paperback books—already checked by the guards—and pushes them under the glass divider.

His father doesn’t even look at them. Instead he stares at me. Hard. “Who’s she?”

“My fiancée.”

His brows flick. “The hell she is.”

“I’m not asking.”

My stomach twists in a knot. I’m sweaty and cold, scared for Nico. Scared for us.

His father’s eyes narrow and he shifts his focus to Nico. “You would choose her over family?”

Nico blinks rapidly, then nods.

Don Santo directs his attention to me, looking me up and down again critically. “Why?”