Chapter 5 - The Grand Casino
At 7:45 p.m., a fleet of five bulletproof black Cadillacs pulled up to the velvet-lined entrance of the Royal Palm Casino—the neutral territory where the mafia governing council held its meetings.
I sat in the back of the lead Cadillac, my palms sweating against the fabric of a stunning black velvet gown.
Around my neck hung a massive teardrop diamond necklace that had once belonged to my twin sister, Clara. My hair was styled in sleek waves, and my lips were painted a bold, blood-red shade. When I looked into the car’s vanity mirror, I didn't see Mara Vance anymore. I saw a ghost returned for vengeance.
Mateo reached across the leather seat and took my hand. His gloved fingers were strong and warm, sending a strange, thrilling electric current straight up my arm.
"Are you afraid?" he asked softly, looking deep into my eyes.
"Terrified," I admitted truthfully. "What if they see right through me? What if I ruin everything?"
"Listen to me, Mara," Mateo said, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic murmur. "You have Clara’s face, but you have your own strength. I watched you shield my son with your own body when bullets were flying at Bellagio. You have more courage in your little finger than half the men sitting at that council table. Just walk by my side, keep your head high, and let me handle the blood."
He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss onto my knuckles.
My heart did a strange, fluttering flip that had nothing to do with fear.
"Where is Leo?" I asked, trying to clear my head.
"Safe," Mateo assured me. "Renee, my most trusted personal guard, has taken him to a secure underground safe house outside the city. No one knows where he is except me."
"Good," I breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Now," Mateo said, pulling his customized gun from his shoulder holster and checking the chamber with a crisp CLICK. "Let's go face the wolves."
The doors of the Cadillac opened.
Dozens of photographers and mob enforcers lined the red carpet leading into the casino’s private elevator. As Mateo stepped out, holding my arm, a collective gasp went through the crowd.
Camera flashes exploded like lightning bolts.
"Is that Clara Moretti?!" a news reporter shouted. "Has the Queen returned?!"
"Is she alive?!" another yelled.
Mateo ignored them all, guiding me through the grand double doors of the casino's penthouse ballroom.
The room was opulent—gold chandeliers, green felt poker tables, and glass walls offering a panoramic view of the sparkling city lights below. Sitting around a massive oval oak table were the heads of the Five Families, surrounded by fifty heavily armed bodyguards.
At the head of the table sat Don Carmine Marcone—an elderly man with a silver beard and cold, reptile-like eyes—and his son, Victor Marcone.
When Victor saw me walk into the room on Mateo’s arm, his wine glass slipped from his fingers, shattering onto the marble floor.
"Impossible..." Victor choked out, his face going as white as a bedsheet. "She... she died in the car! I saw the fire myself!"
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Mateo smiled—a sharp, lethal expression that terrified everyone in the room.
"Good evening, Gentlemen," Mateo announced, his voice echoing through the silent ballroom. "Allow me to reintroduce my wife's twin sister: Mara Moretti-Vance. The rightful heir to the Moretti empire."
