with me.
Then it became obvious it wasn’t a coincidence.
It was planned and precise torture.
Because it didn’t end at the food. The TV no longer worked at all. My iPad had disappeared, and I hadn’t been able to ask Ms. Vera because she’d disappeared, too. My clothes were back to oversized and my bath stuff had been cleared out and replaced by the same cheap stuff I’d used at home.
I was hungry for something that actually tasted good.
I was exhausted thanks to the goons waking me with the sun every day.
I was stir-crazy from being stuck in the room with no TV or books.
And because Ms. Vera had been replaced with silent goons, I was lonely. Gut-wrenchingly lonely.
So I snapped.
Scootering to the door, I banged on it. When no one came, I shouted, “I’m not eating this!”
No response.
“I’m hungry!” I tried, hoping someone would take pity on me and my inability to force down the sage and squash mess.
But still nothing.
“I hate you all so fucking much! Just give me some damn toast. Actually, just give me bread. I don’t care, assholes!”
Nothing.
I’m alone.
I’m always alone.
Trapped and suffocating, the four walls I’d been stuck within felt as though they were closing in. A choked sob tore through me, and I cursed my weakness. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve been able to hold out.
I shouldn’t have broken.
But that was exactly what I did.
Maximo
Fucking hell, I need sleep.
I’d spent the night at Moonlight, lining everything up for an impending Pay-Per-View fight. One of the main-event boxers was being a diva and a pain in my ass.
Once I’d had that under control and had been about to leave, security at Star had paged to report a possible sighting of Viktor Dobrow.
Dobrow was a scumbag club owner who had aspirations of Vegas power. Since he was also stupid and a shitty businessman, he worked to achieve that goal by being a loan shark, pimp, and dealer. He’d tried multiple times to get me to allow his drugs and women to be distributed in my casinos. Rejected every time, he’d stopped asking and had tried running that shit behind my back. Since nothing happened at my properties without my knowledge, it hadn’t been long before he’d been caught.
He’d thought I’d see my cut and reconsider.
He’d been mistaken.
In addition to a broken arm and smashed face, Dobrow had been banned from my resorts and fights.
I’d driven to Star to search the place myself, but it’d been a waste of time. If he’d been there at all, he was long gone by the time I’d arrived.
Climbing the stairs, I ran my palm down my face. If I were smart, I’d steer clear of my office and go right to my room to crash.
I wasn’t smart, though. Not when it came to her.
I turned down the hallway to see someone sitting on the floor, looking at their cell.
“Just me, boss,” Cole whispered.
He wouldn’t have been sitting in front of Juliet’s door unless something was wrong.
Swear to Christ, if she tried to escape again, I’m gonna tie her to the damn bed.
Ignoring my body’s response to that inappropriate thought, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“She had a rough night. Figured I’d stay close in case she needed anything.”
“What happened?”
He stood. “She’s not too happy with your stunts.”
“Neither are Vera or Freddy.”
Vera didn’t like not being allowed to see Juliet. Freddy was disgruntled at cooking the same shit every day, especially when so much of it went untouched. He was a chef whose ego depended on people loving his dishes. Normally they did, so the mostly untouched meals were a blow he wasn’t accustomed to.
Cole shook his head. “I mean she’s really not happy.”
“Good.” Truth be told, I wasn’t sure how long I could keep it up. There was a good chance I’d break before the stubborn, ballsy dove did.
“Watch the footage.” Stretching, he started for the stairs. “I’m crashing in the pool house.”
He usually did.
Rather than getting the sleep I needed, I went into my office and sat, grabbing the remote.
Security monitors hung on the wall opposite my desk in all my offices—including my home. I could switch between my casinos, the back offices, and outside my house.
And Juliet’s sitting room and bedroom.
I hadn’t turned on the bedroom camera. Not that I was a saint. Unless someone was with me, her sitting room was always on the main screen. Watching her had become a sick obsession.
I turned on the camera to see her sleeping on her couch with the light on and