All-In by Sierra Cartwright
Chapter One
“Hey, boss. You need to have a look at this.”
Lorenzo Carrington stopped on his way out of the security command center and strode back to the console where Enrico, one of his most trusted deputies, was seated. “What’s up, Rico?”
Dozens of monitors supplied real-time video of Lorenzo’s entire Bella Rosa resort, from the casino’s numerous tables, to the hotel elevators, restaurants, nightclubs, food court, workout space, spa, even the numerous pool decks.
Rico selected one of the feeds, showing Excess, the nightclub.
The area was bathed in its signature purple light, and scores of Las Vegas’s trendiest and richest were crowded onto the dance floor. The most expensive DJ in town spun tunes, and frenetic energy thumped through the place.
“Right here, boss.”
Lorenzo studied one of the monitors. A group of four people were being shown to their VIP table. “What am I looking at?” Or rather, who? After all, his team knew to inform him if certain guests entered the premises.
Rico zoomed in.
Fuck.
Even though she was faced away from him, and the long brunette sweep of her hair curtained around her in a glorious waterfall of distraction, Lorenzo knew her. His dick had cataloged her every sinful curve. Every primal instinct was on fire with the need to possess her.
Zara Davis.
What the hell was she thinking, venturing into the lethal grip of his lair? Tempting fate?
The rational part of his brain recognized that she was allowed to be here with anyone she wanted. He snarled. There’d never been anything rational about his reaction to the daughter of a man who was indebted to him.
After everyone was seated on the black leather couches, Zara’s companion said something to her. She turned and gifted him with a smile so big and bright it would make ordinary men forget their names. And in this case, the lucky recipient was Maverick Rothschild, the spoiled son of one of America’s wealthiest families. Unaccountably the fact that she was clearly dazzling the prick pissed Lorenzo the fuck off. “Shut it down.”
“Sure, boss.” Rico clicked a couple of buttons.
Throughout the day and evening, Lorenzo made regular sweeps through the public areas of his property—to see and be seen. Which meant there was nothing unusual about leaving the resort’s security room with Mario—his ever-present deputy—following close behind him.
Mario pressed his thumb to the unobtrusive pad that served as the private elevator’s call button. This particular car existed solely for Lorenzo and his crew to move through the main tower without the inconvenience of delay.
They bypassed the line of people waiting behind the velvet ropes to enter the nightclub and made their way through the throngs of revelers.
From the day the property opened, Excess had become one of Sin City’s hottest spots. In that respect, it was no wonder Zara was here. Though she was an heiress, she’d distanced herself from her father and brothers and was charting her own path as a social media influencer. Her clients paid her big money to show up and be photographed at their events. But he’d never had any interest in being one of her clients.
He wanted much, much more from her.
Though he stopped to converse with a group of regulars, Lorenzo kept his eye on the VIP section. Zara was posed on the arm of the settee, head tipped back. The light caught the burnished copper and blonde highlights in her hair, giving her an ethereal princess-like glow. The camera loved her. And maybe he did too.
He shook his head to clear it. What the fuck? Once again, there was nothing remotely logical about his thought process—and hadn’t been from the first time he set eyes on her.
Their server arrived with a bottle of whiskey and cocktails, sliding them onto the glass-topped table.
The Rothschild spawn took her wrist and tugged her down onto the cushion next to him.
Leashing his possessive anger, Lorenzo threaded his way toward their table. No doubt she knew he’d had eyes on her since she walked through the building’s main entrance. But he wanted her to know how closely he was watching.
Their other guests headed out to the dance floor, leaving her alone with Rothschild. While she reached into her purse for a tube of lipstick, fucking Rothschild tipped a powder into her drink. When she faced him again, he picked up the martini glass and offered it to her.
Fury flamed. “Move in.”
Behind him, Mario cued his comms and began issuing instructions to the security staff.
Predator to prey, hands clenched at his sides, Lorenzo devoured the remaining distance. To her, he snapped, “Put down that goddamn glass.” Then he yanked Rothschild to his feet.
“Lorenzo!”
His fury focused, he landed a satisfying uppercut to the little fucker’s jaw, sending him reeling back onto the couch. Mario moved in closer, and another team of men arrived to block sightlines and provide their boss with the protection he needed.
When Lorenzo’s vision cleared, Zara was standing there, hands on her hips, eyes blazing with regal indignation. “What the hell are you doing, Lorenzo?”
“Saving your ass.”
“I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
The fuck you are. “Get him out of here.”
Mario hauled Rothschild to his feet again. Unsteady, he rubbed his jaw.
Lorenzo got in the man’s face and smelled the putrid stench of fear. “Either walk under your own power like the man you pretend to be, or you’ll be carried out of here on a gurney.”
“The hell is wrong with you? I didn’t do anything.” A lock of hair fell forward, making him look like a petulant toddler.
“If she took even one sip, they’ll never find your worthless body.”
Rothschild’s remaining color fled, and he might have crumpled if Mario hadn’t been behind him.
“This time your daddy isn’t going to be able to save you, you sorry motherfucker.”
Zara grabbed Lorenzo’s forearm. “Stop being a Neanderthal.” Then, shaking her head, she looked at her date again. “Maverick? Are you okay?”
“He has nothing to say to you.” Or wouldn’t, if he was smart. Lorenzo angled his head toward Mario. “Save a piece of him for me. Move.”
“Lorenzo!” She squeezed his arm tighter. “You can’t do this.”
“If you know what’s good for you, principessa, keep your mouth shut.”
“This is outrageous, and I will not be told what—”
“Oh yes.” He leaned in closer, breathing in the life-giving scent of her, innocence mixed with feminine allure. “You will.”
Without anyone being aware of what was happening, his men escorted Rothschild through an unseen exit. He’d have plenty of time to think before Lorenzo arrived to deliver the rest of his punishment.
Then he turned his full attention on Zara. “You’re with me.”
As she released her grip, she shook her head, her eyes spiking with hard daggers. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“The lord and master of all I survey.” He raked his gaze down her body. Jesus fucking Christ. Her nipples were hard, pressing against her short silver formfitting dress, which meant she didn’t have a bra on. And what about panties?
If he didn’t get her out of here in the next few seconds, he’d lose what was left of his composure. “Let’s go, Zara.”
“Absolutely not.” She shook her head. “We came with friends, and I’m not leaving without Mav.”
“You can see what’s left of him tomorrow.” It was a lie. After tonight, Maverick Rothschild would never look at—or talk to—her again.
“I mean it, Lorenzo.”
He picked up her purse, zipped it open, then pulled out her cell phone. “What’s your password?”
“Screw you.”
With a slight shrug, he offered the device to one of his team. “Break in.”
“Wait!”
Lorenzo regarded her.
“It’s biometric.”
He reached for her hand and pressed her fingertip to the scanner. Once the screen showed an array of apps, he glanced at her again. “Who are you here with?”
“Elias Henry.” She gritted her teeth. “A client who is paying me big money, and the woman he’s trying to impress.”
“I’ll ensure they enjoy their evening.” He typed in a message and then dropped the device back into her purse.
The server passed by, and he stopped her. “Let Mr. Henry know his bill is comped and that there’s a table available for him at the steak house at his convenience.”
Zara’s mouth fell open, and the sight was satisfying.
He crooked a finger toward one of the security team members. “Get these drinks analyzed, and tell Rico we’re gonna need the security footage.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Carrington.”
Next, Lorenzo instructed the server to bring a fresh bottle and another cocktail for Elias’s date.
“Anything else, sir?”
He shook his head, and she hurried away. Patrons who’d been staring returned to their own conversations, and all the remaining security operatives returned to work. Except for Mario’s unobtrusive presence, he was alone with Zara. Around them, purple light pulsed, and electronic music thumped, arousing sexual tension. “Ms. Davis, you’re with me.”
Zara’s eyes spat fire and fury as she stood her ground. “What the hell did you say to my client?”
He admired her defiance, as useless as it was. “That you had an emergency and you hoped he’d accept your apology, in the form of a penthouse suite for the rest of the weekend.”
She blinked. “But the hotel is sold out for months.”
“It is.” He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Fortunately you were able to pull some strings with the owner.”
Inclining his head, Mario turned his back to make the arrangements his boss required.
“Any other objections”—he leaned ever closer to her, and they breathed the same air—“Zara?”
She took a shaky step away from him, rocking back and forth on her mile-high heels. Her lack of composure set fire to a flame of pure masculine satisfaction.
“You can’t…”
He raised an eyebrow in response to the helpless frustration swimming in her eyes. “I can’t what?”
“Rough up Mav.”
He planned to do more than that. Much, much more.
“Or make me come anywhere with you.” She tilted her chin. “I’m going to call someone.”
Daddy? One of her four older brothers?“I’m not open to discussion or compromise.” Lorenzo crowded her space a little more. Oh so satisfyingly, she froze, a beautiful butterfly ensnared in his net. “You can come with me willingly, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder.” Did she have any fucking clue how much his inner alpha male wanted to goad her into taking the second option? “What will people say when they see pictures of your ass in the air?” Especially since his hand would be on it.
Color drained from her face, and she wobbled. He had a certain reputation, and she knew it. “Lorenzo—”
“Choose, principessa. And do it now.”
