Bound by Duty (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles, #2)

My mother called me early the next morning to invite me over for brunch. I knew she was eager to interrogate me about my marriage with Dante. I was actually surprised that it had taken her so long to contact me. Maybe she’d wanted to give Dante and me some alone time to get to know each other. I told her I couldn’t make it to brunch but would be there for teatime. I wasn’t sure how long my visit to the casino would take. I chose a chic beige costume and modest heels for the occasion. I didn’t want to look too sexy for my first impression. I had a feeling I would have trouble getting everyone’s respect even without flashing my legs.

When I came down the staircase, Dante was already waiting in the entrance hall. As usual he was dressed impeccably in a dark brown three-piece suite and matching oxfords. His gaze flickered to me and I hoped he’d approve of my clothes. “Is this okay?” I gestured at my body.

“You look like a business woman. That’s the right choice for today,” Dante said with a nod. I stepped up to him. I didn’t try to take his hand or kiss him, even though I wanted to.

“Only for today?”

“When you welcome our high rollers, you can dress more casually. Most of them are traditionalists, so a dress or skirt would be a wise choice.”

My eyebrows shot up. “I thought you didn’t choose me for the job because of my looks.”

Dante’s eyes traveled the length of my body. “Valentina, only a blind man wouldn’t notice you. It’s always good to charm up the high rollers as you would entertain guests who were invited to a party in our house. They know who you are. They know you are mine, and you taking your time to welcome them and tell them about our newest amenities will make them feel special. Nobody will mistake your hospitality for inappropriate flirting.”

I gave him a doubtful look, but I wasn’t going to argue with him. I was too grateful that he’d allow me to work at all. I didn’t have to listen to the rumors to know exactly what they would be saying about me once people found out the wife of the Boss wasn’t satisfied with being a trophy wife.

***

We took Dante’s Mercedes for our ride to the industrial parts of Chicago because a snow storm made the streets impassable for the Porsche. After thirty minutes, in which Dante explained what kind of gambling was most popular in our casinos and who the most important high rollers were, we pulled up in front of a gate barring the way down into an underground garage. Behind it loomed a massive storehouse with dirt covered windows and graffiti-sprayed walls. A guard in a small cabin greeted Dante and opened the gate for us. We drove down the slope into a nondescript parking garage. Nothing hinted to the presence of a casino, but of course it made sense that the Outfit had to hide their illegal gambling endeavors. A few other cars were already parked in the garage. Dante steered the Mercedes into the spot between a sleek black BMW and a pretentious red Mustang with snow chains around its massive tires. I had a feeling I knew to whom the latter belonged.

Dante and I got out of the car. To my surprise, Dante put his hand on the small of my back as he led me toward a rusty elevator at the other end of the garage.

“Is it safe?” I asked suspiciously. That thing looked as if it was in desperate need of service.

Dante chuckled. “This is all make-believe.” For a moment, his eyes met mine and unexpected warmth filled me. Dante pushed a small black button and the elevator doors slid open. The inside wasn’t much better than the outside. This was a freight elevator with bare steel walls and scratched up floor. Dante took a keycard from his pocket and eased it into a slit I hadn’t even noticed before. It wasn’t anywhere near the obvious buttons of the elevator. Dante noticed my curious look. “We’ve never had a visit from Feds, but if they ever check the storehouse, this will make it more difficult for them to find out what’s below us.”

The moment Dante had inserted the card, the elevator started moving down. The ride was quick and when the doors finally glided open, I gasped.

We stepped into a vast underground area with plush red and gold carpets, chandeliers and dozens of massive tables for poker games, blackjack, roulette and whatever else was played down here. Flatscreen-TVs on one wall of the casino showed everything from the Africa Soccer Cup over a darts championship in Scotland, camel racing in Dubai to Skiing tournaments in the Alps. Sofas were arranged around the wall for people who wanted to watch the athletes or teams they’d put a bet on. At the end of the room, was a bar that took up almost the entire width of the room with hundreds of bottles of liquors, wines and champagne.

Right now the casino was deserted except for two cleaning ladies who vacuumed the carpet. Several doors led to what I assumed were private rooms for VIP guests.

“In the back are the offices as well as a welcome area for high rollers,” Dante explained as he led me across the room toward a dark wood door next to the bar.

“Do I work daily?”

Dante gave me a strange look. “You can work whenever you want. Nobody will force you to work at all. But you’ll always get notified when a high roller is expected so you can decide if you’re going to be there to welcome them.”

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