Vegas Pete - A Mafia Romance (Completed)

Chapter 9: Part 1

The drive to Bangkok passed in silence. I was glad Vegas hadn't tried to make conversation. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and sadness. Soon skyscrapers rose up around the car as we crept through Bangkok at a glacial pace. I didn't care. The longer the drive took the longer I could pretend I didn't have a new home, but eventually we pulled into an underground garage. We got out of the car without a word and Vegas took our bags from the trunk. Most of my belongings had already been brought to Vegas's apartment a few days ago but this would be the first time I saw where he lived. I lingered next to the car as Vegas headed for the elevator doors. He glanced over his shoulder and stopped as well. "Thinking about running?" Every single day. I walked up to him. "You would find me," I said simply. "I would." There was steel in his voice. He jabbed a card into a slot and the elevator doors glided open, revealing marble, mirrors and a small chandelier. The elevator made it clear that this wasn't a normal apartment building. We stepped inside, and nerves twisted my stomach. I'd been alone with Vegas last night and during the ride here but the thought of being alone in his penthouse was somehow worse. This was his kingdom. Who was I kidding? Pretty much all of Bangkok was his empire. 

He leaned against the mirrored wall and watched me as the elevator began its ascend. I wished he'd say something, anything really. It would distract me from the panic rising up my throat. My eyes flitted to the screen showing which floor we were on. We were already on floor twenty and hadn't stopped yet. "The elevator is private. It leads only to the last two floors of the building. My penthouse is at the top and Macau has his apartment on the floor below." "Can he come into our penthouse whenever he wants?" Vegas scanned my face. "Are you scared of Macau?" "I'm scared of the both of you. But Macau seems more volatile while I doubt you'd ever do anything you don't want to do. You seem like someone who's always firmly in control." "Sometimes I lose control." I twisted my wedding ring around my finger, avoiding his eyes. That was information I didn't need to know. "You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Macau. He's used to coming over to my place whenever he wants, but things will change now that I'm married. Most of our business takes place somewhere else anyway." 

The elevator beeped and came to a stop, then the doors slid apart. Vegas gestured for me to step out first. I did and immediately found myself in a huge living space with sleek white sofas, dark hardwood floors, a modern glass and metal fireplace, black sideboards and tables, as well as avant-garde chandeliers. There was hardly any color at all, except for a few pieces of modern art on the walls and art pieces made from glass. But the entire wall facing the elevator was glass. The windows opened the view toward a terrace and roof garden, and beyond that skyscrapers. The ceiling opened up above the main part of the living area and a staircase led up to the second floor of the penthouse. I walked farther into the apartment and tilted my head up. Glass banisters allowed a clear view of the upper floor: a bright gallery with several doors branching off of it. An open kitchen took up the left side of the living area and a massive black dining table marked the border between dining and living area. I could feel Vegas's eyes on me as I took everything in. I approached the windows and peered out. I'd never lived in an apartment; even a roof garden didn't change the fact that it was a high prison.

"Your things are in the bedroom upstairs. Marianna wasn't sure if you wanted to put them away yourself, so she left them in your suitcases." "Who's Marianna?" Vegas came up behind me. Our gazes met in the reflection in the window. "She's my housekeeper. She's here a couple of days per week." I wondered if she was also his mistress. Some men in our world actually dared to insult their partner by bringing their whores into their own home. "How old is she?" Vegas's lips twitched. "Are you jealous?" He rested his hands on my hips and I tensed. He didn't pull away, but I could see anger crossing his face. But I also noted that he didn't answer my question. I stepped out of his hold and headed for a glass door leading out onto the roof garden. I turned to Vegas. "Can I go outside?" His jaw was tight. He wasn't stupid. He had noticed how quickly I'd shaken off his touch. "This is your home now too." It didn't feel that way. I'm not sure it ever would. I opened the door and stepped outside. It was windy and distant honking carried up from the streets below. White lounge furniture took up the terrace but beyond it a small well-kept garden stretched out toward a glass barrier. There was even a square in-ground Jacuzzi big enough for six people.