Chapter 2 – Las Vegas: The King Without Love

Auracio

My jet landed in Las Vegas after several hours of flight. The burning atmosphere of the sin city doesn’t surprise me. What surprises me more is the welcome. It’s not a lackey or a second-rate guy who comes to greet us, no. It’s him. The bloodthirsty one himself. This shows he really cares about this partnership. And he’s right. One doesn’t treat me lightly. Respect is the first rule. Otherwise, you end up with your mouth full of lead in a rusty trunk out in the desert.

Upon our descent, we are escorted to a secure hangar. The checks are strict. Metal detectors, full searches, cameras trained on every movement. Trust does not exclude control, as they say. I let it happen. I’ve learned to tolerate this kind of formality when dealing with men who have no faith or law.

Once the checks are finished, we shake hands.

— Good evening, welcome to you. I hope the flight went well?

— Very well, thank you.

— Follow me, please.

Ten vehicles are lined up in front of the hangar, like a king’s procession. He and I get into the middle SUV, tinted windows, black leather, the scent of power.

— I’ve privatized an entire building for you and your men. I hope that suits you?

— I had already made my arrangements. But for a climate of trust to settle in, I accept. Thank you.

He slightly inclines his head. It’s not submission. It’s an agreement between two predators.

— Rest, we’ll meet at ten o’clock in my club. I have some surprises to show you.

— Sounds good.

The vehicle remains parked while my lieutenant confirms that everything is secure. Once the signal is given, I exit, escorted by my guards. It’s almost five o’clock. The sun is beating down hard. Vegas is suffocating under the heat, but I remain impassive. I head straight to the upper floor of the building. My room is spacious, all marble and glass, with a view of the Strip. Philippe’s room, my right-hand man, is right next door. The floor is entirely dedicated to us. The rest of the building is filled with my soldiers.

I take off my jacket and flop onto the bed. My gaze wanders to the ceiling.

I think of women. I want more. I am insatiable. Two, sometimes three, for a night. Out of need. Out of rage. Out of emptiness too, perhaps. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse. This constant need to possess, to dominate, to indulge. But I have no ties, I don’t want any. A woman is only there to give me what I desire. The rest? Illusion. I’m called misogynistic, brutal, primitive. So what? That’s how I grew up. In our home, a woman doesn’t speak. She obeys. She pleases or she disappears. That’s all there is to it.

I settle more comfortably in the leather chair and check a few contracts. My empire is expanding, the numbers are skyrocketing. I’m at the head of a sprawling network that even the State dares not confront. But here it is, I’m getting older. Forty years old is a milestone. I need to think about my succession. About an heir. An heir who will carry my name, my blood, my rage. But for that, a woman is needed. A worthy woman. A virgin. Pure, perfect, untouched. One who will belong to me body and soul. One who will obey me without question. And above all, who will never have loved before me. Love? Nonsense for the weak. Love weakens, makes one vulnerable. I want passion. Fire. Exclusivity. I want to burn her world and have her let me reign in its ruins.

I close my eyes, thinking of that ideal woman, that chimera I will build from scratch if I must. One mistake, and she will die. That’s non-negotiable. In my world, there is no forgiveness. There’s only the law of the strongest. And I am the king.

Ariane

— Wake up, sleepyhead…

— Ugh… Let me have five more minutes, I didn’t sleep all night… Too many thoughts…

— If we want to go shopping today, it’s now or never. It’s already noon!

— What?! No… that’s not possible…

— Oh yes, Marianne! Come on, get moving, go wash up, I’m preparing lunch.

— Thanks… What would I do without you, huh?

— I still wonder!

She rushes to the shower while I head to the kitchen. Today’s lunch will be risotto. My favorite dish. Nothing better to start a girls’ day.

Marianne and I have known each other for four years. Since… my mother died. Killed by a drunk driver. Her uncle. Yes, the kind of tragedy that weaves unbreakable bonds. Her parents, always between two planes, were never really there. She preferred to come live with me so we could support each other. I had no one left. And she had money but no one to talk to. So we built something together. A shaky but sincere balance.

Every month, her parents send her money, which she shares with me. No, I’m not proud. I accept it. Because I need it. Because she is my pillar. My guardian angel. Without her, I would probably have ended up on the street. Or worse. And I will never forget her.

She comes back, her hair still damp, and sits down as I serve the plates. I cook. She manages the finances. Each of us has our role.

— So? How much can we spend today?

— As much as we want! I really want to treat myself.

— Perfect! I can’t wait to blow our little fortune. But you know, one day, I’ll pay you back everything… When I’m rich.

— Hahaha, you make me laugh with your princess dreams.

— You don’t believe me? You’ll see. I’m going to find a millionaire. A real one. And that day, it’ll be me who takes you shopping in Milan or Dubai.

— I can’t wait to see that… But in the meantime, Dubai or not, we start with Vegas.

We laugh. We live. We pretend everything is fine. We dream a little too loudly to forget that we have nothing.

But sometimes, it’s in those dreams that we find the strength to survive .