Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Ronan escorted him to my office and motioned for him to take a seat in the leather armchair.
I let my lit cigar sit in the ashtray, the smoke slowly rising up to the ceiling. I wasn’t a big smoker, only on occasion. But today seemed like a good day to light up, especially when I was dealing with a psychopath who was already shaking up my casino.
He stared at me, a crooked grin on his face. His smile wasn’t strong enough to distract from the scars all over his face. He had cuts from a blade along his forehead, his cheeks, and his chin. Perfectly spaced out, the marks clearly had been made on purpose, and the scars were so noticeable that it was obvious the cuts had been deep. He tilted his head from the left to the right as his narrowed his eyes on me. “Uh-oh. The boss.” He chuckled, seeing this as some kind of twisted game. “The second your little bitch touched me on the shoulder, I knew I was in trouble.”
“Or you knew you were in trouble because you tried to rape one of my dancers.”
He shrugged. “Just tried to stick it in her ass a little.”
I kept a straight face, not amused by the comment at all. “The dancers are off-limits, Butcher. Bother any of them again, and I’ll have you banned from the casino. It’s a bit pathetic that you’ve been a member for a week, but you’re already about to be kicked out.”
“You laid out the rules perfectly clear—and you didn’t mention a damn thing about the dancers.”
“It’s implied,” I said coldly. “Don’t harass, assault, or touch any of my girls.”
“I guess I don’t see the girls as people,” he said with a shrug. “Just asses and tits.”
I’d never been a gentleman or the type of man to defend a woman, but his attitude rubbed me the wrong way. I might not go out of my way to protect a woman, but I’d certainly never considered raping or hurting one. Only a true psychopath thought that way. “Well, the girls here are a different story. Step out of line again, and I’ll have to remove you. Just gamble, make some money, and go home. It’s not that hard.”
“Or lose some money,” he said with a laugh. “That’s how you make your cash, right?”
“I gamble as well.”
“What’s your game?” He kept turning his head, like a bird that couldn’t sit still.
“Poker.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ll have to play you sometime. Wipe you out.”
“I’m up for the challenge. Assuming you’re still a member in the next week.”
He grinned a little too hard. “Alright, boss. I’ll be on my best behavior. I guess I’ll have to get my urges out elsewhere.”
I didn’t agree with his statement since it felt morally wrong to encourage a man to harass women like that. It made me sick to my stomach, not that I should care what he did or who he did it to. “Strike one, Butcher. There better not be a strike two.”
My men secured a perimeter with a three-mile radius, and I walked past the windows of the flower shop before I stepped inside. It’d been a few days since I’d spoken to Carmen. I’d been busy with work—and with The Butcher.
Carmen must have been in the back room because no one was in the store. I admired the arrangements she had on display and looked at the pictures she had on the wall. There was a calendar next to the register, and feminine handwriting was scribbled everywhere, dates she had to remember for specific events.
I was in jeans and a gray hoodie, dressed casually on this cold winter day. It was overcast because of the thick clouds, and it looked like it might rain. Tomorrow was Saturday, and I hoped I’d be spending the weekend in between Carmen’s legs.
She emerged from the back room, wearing skintight dark jeans, brown boots, and a dark blue sweater that fit the beautiful curves of her body. Her hair was in loose curls as it trailed past her tits to her stomach. She had exceptionally long hair, perfect for fisting when we were in bed together. She looked up to address me, clearly in a good mood because she was doing what she loved for a living. But when she realized it was me, all that happiness instantly vanished from her face.
“You don’t look happy to see me.” I stood at the counter and stared her down, a smile on my lips but not in my voice. When she left my penthouse the other day, she kissed me hard on the mouth and reluctantly left my shirt behind. Now she acted like I’d just ruined her day.
“I just…” She glanced out the window, as if she were afraid someone would see her. “Griffin and Vanessa drop by pretty often, and so does my father. The last thing I want is for any of them to see you.”