His Kingdom (Owning Vegas Book 1)

A week ago, I would have enjoyed the scene in front of me. Beautiful, scantily-clad women everywhere. Now, all I want to do is go home to Charlotte. These chicks are doing nothing for me. Although judging by the smile on Emmanuel’s face, he’s very happy with the night’s entertainment.

He leans forward with a grin. “Who is she?”

“Who is who?” I look around, expecting him to point to one of the girls in particular.

“The one who has your balls in her clutches. You haven’t even blinked at any of ʼem.” He waves a hand around the room. “And I know you. If you’re not interested in anything on the menu here, you have someone else. Who is she?”

“She is none of your business,” I tell him. My jaw clenches.

“Ah, so I was right. You went and found yourself a wife.” He laughs. “Never thought I’d see the fucking day.”

“I don’t have a wife.” I roll my eyes.

“If she’s special enough for you to want to hide her from your friends, and you clearly aren’t interested in other options, then maybe she should be made a wife,” he says.

“What the fuck would you know about wife material? Your longest relationship has been… what? Five hours?” I retort.

Emmanuel shrugs. “I don’t have a need or a want for a wife.”

“And I do?” I raise a brow at him, bringing my glass to my mouth.

“If you found someone willing to put up with your sorry ass, keep her. She’s clearly one of a kind.” The asshole laughs again. This time louder.

“Fuck off. It’s not that serious,” I say, and I’m not sure if the lie is for my own benefit or his.

“Sure it’s not. Where is she?” he asks.

“Not here,” I grunt at him.

Emmanuel squints his eyes at me. “You don’t trust me? I’m hurt,” he says with a hand over his heart.

“I don’t trust anyone. You know that.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, Louie,” Emmanuel reminds me. “There are very few people I would consider a friend. You are one of them. I wouldn’t do anything to someone important to you.”

“Unless you wanted to get at me for something,” I tell him. “Women and children aren’t off-limits in your organization.”noveldrama

“Then I guess you best not give me a reason to hurt you.” He smiles at me. “Relax. Things are changing in Mexico. My tyrant father is dead.”

“Yeah, and how’d that go down, exactly?” I ask him. The old man was killed a few months ago, leaving my friend here in charge.

“Better you don’t know. Like I said, I don’t want to have to kill you,” Emmanuel tells me. “Now, get out of here. You look sad and you’re scaring away the girls.”

I glance at Sammie and Carlo, who are sitting across from us. “I’m out. You got this?” I ask them. They nod, and I take that as my cue to leave while I can. I return my focus to Emmanuel. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Welcome back to town.”

It’s still early. I promised to take Charlotte out dancing. It’s the last thing I want to do. I’d much rather keep her occupied in my bed. But if dancing is what she needs, then dancing is what she’ll get.

I know it as soon as I walk through the door of my penthouse. She’s not here. The place has that eerie quietness. Where the fuck did she go?

I walk back out and unlock the door to the room I set her up in. I really need to find a way to get her to just stay at my place.

I find her in the bed. Asleep. Odd, seeing as I really thought she wanted to go out. I lean over, pull the blankets down, and scoop her up. This won’t do. I need her in my bed. Why would she come back here? If she was tired, she should have just climbed into my bed.

Charlotte’s eyes slowly blink open as I walk down the hall towards my door. “Louie, what’s going on?” she asks, her voice groggy.

“I’m taking you to bed. Go back to sleep,” I tell her, leaning down as I kiss the middle of her forehead. It’s not a gesture I’ve done before I met her. On her, though, it feels right.

I sound like a fucking pussy. I probably need my head examined. Because this shit, the feelings she’s evoking within me… are not normal. They’re so foreign I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with them. The only thing I know for certain is that I want her with me as much as humanly possible right now.

I’m not suggesting that it won’t wear off—although the few times I’ve had to step away from her leave me wanting more, not less. I’ve never been a believer in witches or magic or curses, but maybe there’s merit to all that hocus-pocus shit. She’s either put some kind of spell on me or this is God’s way of fucking with me.

I know I’m not a good person, so why the fuck would they put an angel in my path? Why would they put someone as pure as Charlotte here for me to claim as mine? The only reason would be to punish me, and they’ll do that by showing me goodness and then ripping it away.

I hold on to her tighter. Fuck anyone who thinks I’ll let her go without a fight, God or not.

I lay Charlotte down and pull the blankets up. “Are you coming to bed?” she asks me.

“I’m gonna shower real quick. Go back to sleep,” I tell her.

By the time I finish rinsing off and changing into something clean, Charlotte’s out of it again. Her light snores fill the room. Making my way over to the bed, I’m about to flick the light off when she rolls over and something catches my eye. Not something. A mark. On her upper arm. I lean closer to see exactly what it is. A fucking handprint. Someone had their hand wrapped around her arm tight enough to leave a fucking bruise.

“Charlotte, wake up.” My voice is harsher than I intended it to be, as a red haze takes over my vision.

She jumps and her eyes snap open, bouncing around the room before settling on me. “What’s wrong?”

“Who did this to you?” I hiss through gritted teeth while gesturing to her arm.

Charlotte looks down and then back at me. “It’s nothing,” she says.

“I didn’t ask what it was. I asked who did it. Who the fuck put their hands on you?” I’m already moving around the room, putting on the pants and shirt I just took off. I can feel her watching me.

“What are you doing? Why are you mad?”

“Answer the question, Charlotte. I want to know who did that,” I tell her as I continue to pace back and forth across the carpet.

“I… I went outside, and Owen was there. He wanted to talk to me,” she says.

I pull out my phone and call Sammie. He answers on the second ring. “Boss?”

“Round up Carlo and Emmanuel. We have a hog to roast.”

“What? Fuck? Really? You sure?” Sammie asks.

“Do I sound un-fucking-sure?” I yell before hanging up. Then I storm into my closet, pulling the suits aside to unlock the safe. I reach inside and grab a pistol and a knife.

“Wait… Why do you have a gun?” Charlotte is behind me. “Why do you have all those guns? That’s a lot of guns, Louie. What are you doing?”

“Go back to bed,” I tell her.

“Oh, sure, I’ll just go back to bed when my boyfriend seems to be losing his damn mind and is… What are you doing? Loading up with weapons?” she asks me.

I pause and spin around. She’s standing in the doorway of my closet, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties. “Say it again,” I groan.

“What are you doing?” she repeats.

“Not that part. The boyfriend thing, say it again.” I stalk towards her.

“It was a slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean that.” Charlotte averts her eyes. “Sorry.”

My fingers press under her chin, tipping her face upwards until her eyes connect with mine. “I like it. Being your boyfriend,” I tell her. My voice somehow manages to sound calm, even though I’m fired up on the inside.

“You mean that?” she questions before quickly adding, “It’s too soon.”

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean. And since we’ve established you’re now my girlfriend, you have to understand that I’m not about to let some fucker get away with hurting you. No one, and I mean no one, puts their hands on you, Charlotte.”

Her eyes widen. “You can’t do anything to Owen. He’s a cop, Louie. You’ll get in trouble.”

I laugh. “Sweetheart, I don’t give a fuck if he’s the goddamn Pope. He hurt you. He’s gonna feel that tenfold.”

“Please, just come to bed. You’re mad, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone out. I should have just stayed and waited for you like I said I would. I don’t want you getting into trouble over me. It’s not worth it.”

“Charlotte, you are more than worth it. Whoever put it into your head that you’re not… is a fucking idiot. You. Are. Worth. It,” I emphasize, hoping my words sink into her. “I’ll be back. Now, go to sleep.”

“Louie, this is insane. I told him to go home. He’s not sticking around town. Just let it go.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to agree with her, for her benefit. I can’t lie to this woman, though. “I won’t be long.” I grab hold of the back of her head and press my lips against her forehead again. “Please stay here,” I say and step around her. Stopping at the bedroom door before I turn and look at her again. “Why didn’t you come back here? When you came up?”

“I don’t have a key to get in.” She lifts a shoulder.

Opening my wallet, I pull out the spare master key. “This will get you into any room in any of my casinos,” I tell her as I drop the card on to the bedside table. “I want you here when I get back.”

By the time I make it downstairs, Sammie, Carlo, and Emmanuel are waiting for me. “You guys ready for a barbecue?” I smirk.

“Always,” Emmanuel answers without even questioning why we’re about to go after a cop.

“Is she okay?” Sammie asks, knowing it has to have something to do with Charlotte.

“He grabbed her. Fucker left a mark on her,” I tell him through gritted teeth.

Carlo’s eyes widen, and then he smiles. “What the fuck? Good thing I have a hankering for pork tonight.”

“Let’s go.” Sammie nods at me.