Page 6 of Maximum Bet

Things in our lives have settled since then, thankfully. A band tightens around my chest as I realize the calm is likely temporary until we neutralize the threat from Anatoliy Kozlova and Esteban Perez.

The song ends, and Cassandra pulls back to applaud the band. While she watches the lead singer make introductions, my focus locks on her. High cheekbones give her round face an elegant touch, a look that served her well in the world of classical ballet. Pouting lips beg me to kiss them, and it takes all the willpower I possess not to make a scene in the middle of the dance floor.

After a few more dances, dinner is announced as the band retreats for a break. The circular family table is situated next to the dance floor, beside the wedding party. I pull out Cassandra’s chair while she gracefully sits. Leo’s girlfriend, my interior designer, Natalie, takes a spot next to her. Cassandra quickly begins talking to the redhead who has a light dusting of freckles covering her nose and cheeks. Natalie and Leo areboth wearing contacts tonight. Usually, they’re twins with their black-rimmed glasses. Although Leo’s dark hair and tan complexion contradict hers.

Nico appears in the seat beside me, his lips pressed firmly together as he folds his napkin over his lap.

“It’s not the time for an in-depth business discussion,” I remind him. “You need to stay away from Santos.”

“Then the jackass needs to stay away from me, too.” His words are meant only for me, but from across the table, my father’s brows rise when he catches the sharp look Nico sends toward the Cuban a few tables over.

I adjust my wine glass, flipping it right side up. “Let’s talk after the reception.”

Nico nods. “Sure.”

“Hi,” Cassandra’s soft, feminine voice interrupts.

I press my torso against the back of my chair as Cassandra leans over me, arm outstretched.

“I’m Cassandra Bain,” she says to Nico. “We haven’t met.”

“Nico Romano.” His lips quirk at the side as his demeanor does a quick one-eighty. He also possesses the charisma passed down by our grandfather.

My hand finds Cassandra’s thigh under the table. The fuck I’m going to let my cousin flirt with her. The glare I send his way has his eyes twinkling with delight. The competitive nature we shared in childhood hasn’t faded.

“Dominic never told me how gorgeous his fiancée is.” Nico leans on his elbows to get a better look, his eyes perusing Cassandra’s frame.

I’m going to fucking kill him. Put a bullet right between his eyes.

“Oh.” Cassandra giggles. “Thank you.” Her cheeks flood with color as she glances at the tabletop.

“If you ever get bored with Las Vegas, Chicago is a fantastic city.”

I grit my teeth and growl. “Enough.”

Nico leans back, laughing. “I’m just messing with you,” he says, patting my shoulder.

I should break his arm.

“It’s nice to meet you, Cassandra.” He tilts his head in her direction. “I’ve never seen a woman have a hold like this on my cousin.”

She smiles, shifting to allow a waiter to pour her a glass of water. “Nice to meet you, too, Nico.”

To my relief, the topic at the table shifts, and the women begin gushing about the beauty of the ceremony, while the men turn to sports—a placeholder for the backdoor discussion we are itching to have.

Dinner is served—a filet for me, salmon for Cassandra—drinks are poured, and company is enjoyed. When I stand on the stage to deliver my best man speech, I receive applause and laughter at the correct places. We raise our glasses in celebration of the happy couple, and the party starts.

I dance with Cassandra, then once with my mother while my father spins Cassandra around the floor. His ballroom moves have her relying on her ballet technique as they put on a show that humbles me.

Nico cuts in a few songs after Cassandra is back in my arms, and I glare at him for half a dance before I return to shoo him away.

We dance until Cassandra complains about her bad foot, saying, “I’ll have to ice it when we get home.”

I escort her back to our table, where she joins a gossip session with Sadie, Natalie, and my mother, while I venture off to refill our drinks.

With a scotch in one hand and a Pinot Grigio in the other, I find myself caught in small talk with Michael Ryan, another hotel and casino owner who has a long-standing friendly rivalry with my family. We lament over card counters and discuss my new property, Pharaoh’s Temple.

By the time I return to Cassandra, the only two remaining at the table are Leo and Natalie. Natalie points me toward the veranda as I attempt to ignore her canoodling with my adviser. It’s rare and slightly unnerving to find Leo so relaxed.