Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“I kind of like it,” I smile. “Seeing you more like a man than a—"
“Devil?” he interrupts with a laugh.
“I was going to say mafia boss, but I suppose either works,” I giggle playfully.
We both look unlike ourselves—Vincent dressed in jeans and a baseball cap with a long-sleeved T-shirt to cover up his tattoo sleeve in lieu of his usual suit and tie. And me, with a flowery dress and blonde wig to cover up the color of my hair. It’s almost as if we’re play-acting at being normal people tonight, instead of a killer and a prima ballerina. We are an unlikely couple, no matter how we look, so it doesn’t really matter how we’re dressed. At least this way, we disguise ourselves from any searching eyes. Marco is called off for the night, and I haven’t seen Luciano or Alonzo anywhere around since I’ve been back. So, it’s just me and Vincent together tonight as we try to enjoy a rare moment of joy and fun.
“So, since we’re not acting like our usual selves tonight,” I suggest. “How about you skip the fancy restaurant experience, and I skip the dance diet, and we indulge in some street food?”
“Oh, you really are daring, aren’t you?” he teases as he throws his head back and laughs. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh like this before—it’s nice.
We find a food truck that sells messy, delicious looking fish tacos and indulge in eating them while we walk. This feels freeing. Walking with Vincent out here, with people passing by us and giving us casual smiles as the two of us laugh and talk and nudge each other on the arm when we see something interesting along the street. This feels like the kind of life that I could very easily get used to. Vincent seems softer now, easygoing, almost as we people watch and talk about our random non-violent experiences in Vegas. His life didn’t always involve blood, crime, and vendettas. Some of his past, the parts that happened before he lost his parents and his sister, sound a lot like the childhood I had before I lost my mom.
“It’s funny,” I say when we sit down on a bench to watch the sun set over the strip. “I guess I thought that you and I would be oceans apart in terms of how we were raised before tragedy struck us both. But now I find out that you watched some of the same shows on TV and read some of the same books as I did in middle school. I know you paint this picture of yourself as a monster, and as some sort of all-powerful God of Hell. But in truth, you were just like me—with a mother that taught you and protected you for as long as she could until the cruelty of the world broke you.”
Vincent reaches his hand over to my lap and folds his palm into mine. “I think that there is something else about us that is similar too,” he adds as he stares out at the rich, burnt-orange sky. “That brokenness doesn’t define us, Isla. It never did. You and I both grew stronger despite the damage we took. And now, even though we’re both still learning who and how we want to be.”
“I thought that you already knew who you wanted to be,” I say as Vincent turns to look at me. “You’re the Devil of Vegas, the most feared and respected mafia don in the city. I thought that was exactly the reputation that you built your empire on, and exactly what you wanted to be.”
“So, did I. But then, I found you.”
I can see the storm in his eyes, the battle that is ongoing between his morally conflicted urges, both for revenge against those who have crossed him, and his desire to have me. How Vincent talks to me bares his soul. He sees mine in a way that no one ever could before, makes me question everything about what I saw myself becoming. I find myself no longer wanting to choose between being a dancer and being his. I want both things now.
“Come on,” he says as the sun dips down into the dark corners of the sky. “Let’s go get a drink before heading home.”
“Where?”
“At my casino, of course,” he grins. “Our disguise won’t work on Gabriel behind the bar, but he won’t tell anyone it’s us. Besides, we can drink for free.”
I laugh at Vincent’s attempts to sound like just some “regular guy”. When we get to the bar, I’m definitely ready for a cocktail, and it just so happens that his bartender makes the best around—all top-shelf liquor and crafted to perfection because Vincent wouldn’t settle for anything less at one of his clubs.
We have one round of drinks, and then another. I feel warm and pleasantly fuzzy, as a realm of possibilities opens up in my head. It also loosens my inhibitions just enough to be a bit more forthcoming with Vincent than I might have been otherwise.