Page 78 of Maximum Bet

Cassandra

Dominic flings me into the stairwell. After a peek through the rectangular glass window, he leads me down the stairs.

“They aren’t after us yet,” he says as we pass the next floor.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep up in my heels. These shoes weren’t meant for fleeing a massacre.

“The honeymoon suite is a few floors down. I have the key card in my pocket. I’m a fucking idiot and didn’t bring my master card for the entire hotel.” Dominic stops at a landing and flattens us against a wall. “I’m going out first. If something happens to me, you keep running.”

My mouth drops open as understanding dawns.

If he gets shot, I’m supposed to leave him to die. I scowl and raise my gun, holding it to my chest, ready to aim if needed.

He glares at me but doesn’t repeat his command. With a quick kiss to my lips, he turns and inches the door open.

I hold my breath as he steps into the hallway, scanning the length, weapon drawn.

Nothing happens, and from what I can see, the space is empty.

“Follow me,” he says, pushing through the door.

Hugging the wall, we run down the hallway to a room across from the elevator bank. With his gun trained on the elevators, Dominic pulls a key card from his pocket and holds it against the reader. The door clicks open, and he pushes me forward, rushing in behind me and slamming the door shut. He engages the safety lock before checking the peephole.

“I think we’re okay, for now,” he says, placing his gun in his waist holster, then shrugging out of his jacket.

My chest rises in rapid succession as I work to catch my breath and process the danger we’re in . . . again.

I look around the spacious suite. It’s done in gold and green, with cream accents. There’s a wet bar with an ivory counter in the corner. Through the mirrored back, I catch our reflection.

My once perfectly coiffed hair has loosened. Wispy pieces break free, sticking out from under my crooked tiara. I glance down at my dress and grimace when I spot a tear near the hem where I must have stepped on the lace.

Dominic paces, hand running through his hair, leaving it in disarray. He fights with his bowtie and throws it to the ground.

With no better ideas, I trek to the bar and place my gun on the counter. The metal makes a deafening clink as it hits the granite, breaking the silence.

“Shit!” Dominic shouts and slams his fist against the wall. “Any other day, any other fucking day, they could have done this.”

“Dominic,” I soothe.

“Cassandra, I’m sorry.” His face falls as he strides my direction. He places his hands on the countertop, trapping me between his arms. “I’m so sorry I ruined your wedding day. You don’t deserve this.”

I place my hands on his cheeks, begging him to stop. “Dominic, this isn’t your fault. Look at me.” His eyes, weary withself-deprecation, meet mine. “Anatoliy Kozlova and Esteban Perez were going to come after us at some point. What makes more sense than at our wedding, where they know all the top Romano-Tariello leaders will be, along with our allies?”

He shakes his head, rubbing the shaved skin across my palms. “I should have protected you better. I should have seen this coming.”

“Kozlova and Perez have organizations that are nearly as advanced as ours. I doubt you, Marco, Leo, and Lucas messed up on security. Something didn’t fall into place the way you expected it to, and our enemies were watching like hawks, waiting for their chance. They found it.”

He sighs and pushes away to walk behind the bar.

Fishing around in the cabinets underneath, he finds a wine cooler and pulls out a chilled bottle of champagne. “To the happy couple?” he snarks, holding it up.

I quirk a brow but retrieve champagne flutes.

I wait patiently as he pops the cork and pours the bubbly wine into the glasses.

“To Mr. and Mrs. Tariello,” he says, lifting his glass.

I tap mine against his, and then he drains the flute in one go. I sip on mine.