Chapter One

I adjusted the rhinestones in my costume and reminded myself that rich people were human too.

They laugh.  They cry.  They spend a thousand dollars an hour hiring a nobody Vegas showgirl like me for private performances

No, not that kind of show.

This was a scripted set our director reserved for high-paying clients.  Five songs. Two dance numbers. Smile pretty, collect the check, and leave.  That was all.

The elevator climbed higher than my paycheck ever did.

When the doors finally opened, I froze.

Most elevators opened into long hallways with dozens of doors.  This one only had two doors on the landing.  One read "Velvet Suite" and the other read "Silk Suite."

I checked my paper in hand.  There was nothing there; it only said to go up to floor sixty-two. Which door do I open?

Nobody tells you how quiet fear feels on the top floor of a casino. 

I could get fired if I walked into the wrong room. And I couldn't afford to get fired.  This was my dream.  My shot at fame, fortune, and finally becoming someone worth remembering.

I will not be another sin city failure.

Besides, I didn't even want to imagine what was hidden behind the wrong door.  I heard enough horror stories from other dancers to know rich men collected secrets the same way they collected women.

Voices drifted from the Velvet Room loud enough for me to hear through the door.  That had to be my party. 

I reached for the gold handle and slowly pushed the door open.

"The last thing we want to do is kill you, Luca."

Shit, this isn't my party.

I couldn't see the man who was speaking.  His voice sounded chewed up and spit back out.

"And trust me, Don, that's the last thing I want to do too."

From the crack in the door, I could barely make out the figure of the second voice.  Tall.  Dark hair.  Broad shoulders beneath an expensive suit.  He looked like he could have been a model in a previous life.  He moved toward the in-room bar and poured bourbon into two crystal glasses.

"So then, I think what you and I need to do is come to some kind of agreement so my men don't make no trouble in your casino.  How does that sound to you, Luca?"  The first voice coughed hard at the end of his sentence.

Luca?

Luca Moretti?

The man who owns half of the casinos in Las Vegas.

"I think we can come to an agreement, but I think there is one thing you need to remember, Don."

The man I thought was Luca then let something fall out of his coat sleeve and into one of the cups.  I blinked my eyes hard.  Did I just see what I think I saw?

"And what's that, Luca?"

A plump hand came into frame, taking the cup with the spike in it, then disappeared behind the door again. 

"I own this city." His voice sounded smooth like candle smoke.

Don let out another rough cough.

"You think you're a big bad wolf in this town, but let's be honest with each other.  You haven't had any actual power since the nineteen-eighties."

Don's cough got worse.

"You come in here with your threats, but you have nothing to really bargain with."

I could hear Don struggling to take a breath.

"And I will not be handed idle threats in my own house."

The coughing stopped. A thud hit the floor.  An empty bourbon glass rolled into view.

I could see Luca's chiselled body lean down over where I would have assumed Don was sitting. 

"The last thing we want to do is kill you, Don D'Caputo."

He's dead!

I back away from the door as quickly as I can.  Fear sat in my chest so heavily I could barely breathe around it.  I knew too much, and people have died for knowing less.

I forced an exhale out, long and shaky.  One more, and then another, until my breathing felt normal.  I needed to go to the Silk Room.  I couldn't be found here.

Lucky for me, I'm an actress.  And a damn good one, even if I'm not as famous as I want to be yet.

I put on a smile and open the door to the Silk room.

"There's the woman we've been waiting for!" A chorus of deep male voices greeted me as I entered the room.

"Hello, boys.  I'm Sienna. Let's play," I said in my perfect Marilyn Monroe impression. I heard my phone automatically connect to the Bluetooth speaker in the room, so I hit play on my set and began the show.

I danced through the suite in feathers, rhinestones, and a smile polished for rech men.  I sang to the music and shook my hips seductively.  

Every time I blinked, I could see that bourbon glass rolling across the floor. 

I sat on the lap of the guy with the crown on his head, quickly realizing this was a bachelor party.  

"Ho-wooooo! Oh, sweetheart, you make me feel like the big bad wolf with those massive heart eyes."

You think you're a big bad wolf in this town. Luca Moretti's voice echoed in my head. 

When my set ended, the men applauded, and I took a long, deep breath.  I normally live for the stage.  Dancing like this every night is a dream come true.

But this night was a nightmare. 

I couldn't wait to go home, take a bath, and wait for the sun to rise. I wanted to scrub this night off my skin.  I wanted to wash it out of my brain.

"Now, you're not leaving, are you, sweetie?" A man with blonde hair asked as I put my phone in my bag.  I was able to assume he's the best man.

"As much as I'd love to stay and play, I have somewhere to be." I gave the boys a quick pose as I did my Marilyn voice again and started walking towards the door.

"No, you don't, darling.  How does five thousand dollars sound to stay and hang out with my boy, Brandon, just for one more hour?"

Five thousand dollars.  That could pay the rent for a few months.  But I knew what they were really asking for.

"I'm just not that kind of girl, and I wouldn't want Brandon's wife to get jealous."

The room erupted with laughter.  While they collected themselves, I reached for the door.

"How about ten grand?"  The blonde man grabbed my wrist.

"I'm sorry, I can't." I dropped the act and tried to take my hand back.

"Look, you're here.  We both know what Vegas showgirls really are.  Just make this night worth our time."

He shoved my wrist hard enough that I stumbled backward. 

I lost my balance and fell to the ground. 

That's when the door opened, and a voice said, "I'm sorry, boys, we're moving you to another suite for the night.  Police need this floor cleared."

A pair of crystal blue eyes fell upon me.

"What's going on? Why is this woman on the floor?"

I recognized that smooth voice instantly.

Luca Moretti.