Lady Night

Chapter one

The nightclubs in Vegas have a hierarchy of their own.

The majority of them are ones that are frequented by the masses— girls on their bachelorette party weekend, professionals in town for a conference, guys who don't want their thirties to end. The middle tier clubs are harder to get into. They usually require knowing someone on the inside or having enough money to wave around so somebody lets you in.

Only a fair few in Vegas could consider themselves among the top echelon of clubs.

They were the ones with lines around the block.

Celebrities were photographed outside but nobody batted an eye at them on the inside.

People didn't cross the threshold of those clubs unless they could pay for it.

—OR they were like me and had to carry two cases of lemons in through the side door of the back kitchen.

"Sabina!" Ramirez shouted from the grill, pointing a long spatula at me. "You can't be back here!"

I groaned under the weight of the fruit and glared at the cook. His sous chef, Lance, chuckled to himself as he decorated the plate with greens.

"Holly locked the door closest to the upstairs bar," I complained, shooting a grateful look to Lance when he grabbed the second box from under my chin.

"Why?" Lance asked, nodding his head outside the kitchen.

Fortunately for them, the kitchen was starting to slow down at this time of night. Unfortunately for me, the bar was just starting to ramp up.

"She hates me I guess," I joked, shrugging.

Lance laughed as he followed me down the side hallway that led to the inventory room behind the bar. Both of us set the boxes down, not even bothering to move them to the fridge. It was a Saturday night which meant that they'd all likely be gone by tomorrow morning.

"Heads up," Lance added turning to look at me as he backed out, "I think there's an important guest here tonight."

I rolled my eyes. "Just one?"

Last weekend I did VIP bottle service for two congressmen. Pretty sure one of them convinced the other to flip votes on a bill. They also tipped four grand.

"Marafi's in the corner sitting with him," Lance said with a look. I let out a low breath.

If Antonio Marafi was sitting with him, then yes, he was definitely somebody important. My boss, and the owner of APEX, reserved the corner booth every weekend for himself and whoever he deemed worthy to keep him company that night.

It was always my table to cover. He said he liked it that way- better to keep an eye on me.

Lance waved goodbye and I gave him another grateful smile before carrying as many lemons as I could back out into the bar. The music was loud in the VIP lounge, but not as loud as the nightclub below. At the end of every one of my shifts on the lower floor, I wasn't able to hear properly for the next ten hours.

Fortunately, having Marafi's favor meant working in the lounge. Bigger tips. Better hours.

Better music too.

"He's already there," Holly said, not even thanking me for hauling the lemons all the way from the alley. She was pouring a Manhattan into a glass for an elegant woman sitting at the end of the bar.

I leaned over the bar to try and get a glimpse of whoever he was with. There was a large group of people standing in front of the corner table.

"Who is it?" I asked her, "Lance said-"

"When did you see Lance?"

"You locked the door again," I said with a look.

She cursed under her breath, giving me a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," she winced, "force of habit."

That was the truth. Holly hadn't been working at APEX for long, and she'd come from a lower tier club with less friendly clientele. Most of the time, people didn't make jumps from a bottom to a top tier club like that so abruptly. But she just got engaged to a member of the Marafi family

And, as he liked to constantly remind me, the Marafi family took care of one another. It he said it to Holly he probably meant it as an encouragement. When he said it to me, he meant it as a threat.

Holly scoffed as I kicked out of my sneakers to pull the black-heeled boots that matched hers.

The body con dress we both wore was short, but still I attempted to pull the hem down just a little bit further. Grabbing the bottle of Weller bourbon off the wall and two crystal glasses, I headed toward the back corner where my boss sat with his mystery guest.

Two of my regulars, wealthy restaurant owners on the strip, waved at me as I walked by. I grinned at them and waved back. That was another thousand I could make tonight.

I set the two glasses on the table in front of the two men and poured three fingers worth. When I glanced up, Marafi was smiling at me. Russet brown hair and a matching goatee, with familiar gray eyes that looked tenser than usual.

Someone who'd known him shorter wouldn't notice, but I could see the nervous set in his jaw and the tightness of his posture.

He was around fifty years old, but still muscular and tall. The head of the Marafi Family and a ruthless owner of a thriving club— there weren't very many things that were capable of making him tense.

And yet.

When I finally glanced at the other man, I knew why.

Sprawled out lazily on the booth, one arm slung over the back of the seat, was a beautiful man.

Beautiful in the way that lightning was beautiful.

Tanned skin covered sharp features and a strong jaw. Curls that were dark as onyx on the top of his head but cropped shorter near his ears. He caught my eyes, the caramel brown were so bright they almost seemed gold as they noted me with amused boredom.

"Thank you," Marafi said, then gestured to the seat beside him. "Why don't you join us?"

Quickly, I eyed my boss and the man that sat in front of him. Clearly, whoever this man was put Marafi on edge, and having me around would help him gain some type of influence. He phrased it as a question, knowing that it was anything but, I sat.

"Do you normally have your waitresses sit in on business deals?" The man drawled picking up his glass and inspecting the bottom of it, not even looking at Marafi.

"Just the ones who have a master's degree in Business Analytics."

The man's lips twitched at my narrowed eyes and snappy tone. It was the first sign of any emotion other than boredom that I'd seen cross his face. Marafi chuckled, settling back into his seat, clearly feeling more at ease now that there was somebody he could exude power over.

Internally, my fists clenched. Externally, I brushed a piece of loose auburn hair out of my face. The man watched the movement with a slow gaze that made me want to shudder.

So this was a business meeting. Clearly, this man had something that Marafi wanted otherwise the stranger wouldn't be acting like he had all of the bargaining power. Didn't he know who Marafi was? What he was capable of?

If it was a negotiation, then Marafi was losing solely by the postures they both held.

I held my hand out patiently for the document that sat between them. It was an executive summary of a merger. Only a few pages long, rather than the actual merger agreement which would likely be close to a hundred.

This, however, set out the terms for the agreement in plain language that the executives of the Marafi group could read through.

My eyes widened as I scanned the document.

The Russo Corporation wanted to acquire one of the Marafi Group's subsidiary companies. This man worked for the Russo's- and suddenly it made sense why this man made Marafi so damn nervous. The Marafi Family were small fish in a city dominated by the Russos.

"Thoughts?" The man drawled, stroking a long finger across the top of his glass. When those caramel eyes landed on me, I knew it was a challenge. I liked a challenge.

But. I wouldn't speak unless I had Marafi's permission— as much as I liked a challenge, I liked living just as much. He gave a small nod.

"I've looked at the predictive analytics for this company, and your offer does not account for the potential earnings that it's projected to make in the next quarter. It's too low, and it's unacceptable."

The man's eyes narrowed, but his full lips twitched again and I wondered if he was resisting a smile.

"The predictive analytics provided data from a quarter where the market was booming. Not with data when the market was at a downturn.

Like right now."

I breathed deeply, my brain whirring. "I'd bet a lot of money that there will be an uptick in a few weeks. There always is after a slump."

He leaned forward, eyes flashing. My heart pounded at the predatory movement, my instincts screaming at me to run far from this table.

"Maybe I don't like risk."

"That's a coward's response," I countered with a snort.

Marafi tensed. s**t. Had I just called somebody who worked for the Russo crime family a coward? Yes, yes I did. Because clearly today seemed like a good day to die.

Instead of seeming pissed off, however, the man finally smiled. It was a terrifying, cat-like smile that told me he was far more calculating than his bored expressions let on.

He took the form back, crossed out the number on the front, and scribbled something else down at the bottom of the page. He slid it across the table and Marafi scanned it again, his eyes briefly flicking to mine before back to the man.

"We have a deal," my boss finally said, sticking his hand out.

The man glanced at it, as if he found the idea of shaking Marafi's hand abhorrent. He did it anyway, standing as he did so. His presence was so consuming and so demanding, that I stood too feeling as though it were some type of dismissal.

"We'll draw up the contract and send it over to you when we're through," he said, fixing the buttons on his tailored suit.

Marafi was nodding, reading through the summary of the terms again and again. The man turned his gaze down on me standing awkwardly in front of him. I gulped. Even in heels, he towered over me.

"I didn't catch your name."

"Sabina," I said, then added, "Night. Sabina

Night."

He inclined his head, that cool and calm expression again on his face. Reaching for the glass again, he downed the rest of the bourbon.

"I look forward to working with you, Miss Night."

With that, he nodded his head again at the two of us before strolling out of the club. It took me far too long to process what he said, and when I looked back at Marafi he was watching me with a curious look in his eyes.

Wordlessly, he handed me the terms of the agreement.

The stranger increased his price by a quarter of a million after my comments. It was scrawled right next to the previous price. Such a huge number and he'd gone up so easily I wondered if he knew that he was undervaluing the company.

Then, something else on the page caught my eye.

On one column there were the requirements and items that each company had to produce. The vanishing company, the one owned by the Marafi Group, had to give normal things like IP, assets, and normal liabilities.

But then there was something written at the bottom next to "assumed contracts." Something that hadn't been there when I last looked at it.

Something in elegant and demanding handwriting.

The red head will work for the Parent Company. Effective immediately.

My eyes shot up, looking from the paper to my boss— to the man I owed a life debt to. A slow and sick grin started to spread across his face. I was part of the bargain. I was part of the reason why the price for the merger went up.

"This is perfect," Marafi exclaimed, clapping his meaty hands together and sinking back into the booth.

I gave him a look. "How exactly is this perfect?"

How exactly was I supposed to pay off my life debt to a man I wasn't even working for anymore!

He turned his cold eyes on me, but this time they were alight with excitement. A terrifying kind of excitement.

"Now, Sabina," he said, "you can help me take the Russos down."