Chapter 187

Chapter 187

Damian's POV

Valeria was colder than I expected. I turned to Olivia and found her little face scrunched up, shoulders hunched as she hugged herself tight, like she was trying to keep the cold from getting in.

"Put it on."

Olivia looked up, stunned, clutching the suit jacket I'd tossed at her. "It's freezing out here. You're only wearing a shirt."

"I said, put it on. Think about the baby."

The second I brought up the baby, Olivia always gave in. This time was no different.

I tossed my keys to the attendant and headed toward the casino entrance.

Dim light spilled from the wide doors, the kind of low glow that made everything feel a little off, almost eerie.

Olivia instinctively grabbed my arm. I felt her shiver, quick and unmistakable. "You scared?"

It was probably her first time in a place like this.

Whether you came to play or negotiate, nerves were normal.

"I'm scared, yeah," she admitted, then drew a deep breath. "But I have to get used to situations like this."

A few minutes passed. When she lifted her chin again, her eyes had steadied.

I looked down at her, and before I even realized it, something like approval slipped into my gaze. "You adapt fast."

Olivia scratched the back of her head, a little embarrassed, like she thought I was teasing her. She opened her mouth to explain, but I cut her off.

"I'm admiring you," I said. "Not mocking you."

Her steps slowed for half a beat, then she smiled and tightened her grip on my hand, following me inside.

The casino's owner, Leopold Beaufort, looked to be in his fifties—big belly, big grin, the kind of hospitality that felt practiced.

"Mr. Costello," he said warmly, "why didn't you have our people pick you up?"

I'd taken my private jet. I kept my movements quiet. There was no reason he needed to know where I'd been or how I'd arrived.

I waved away the cigar he offered, all business. "You don't have to be so formal. Call me Damien."

Leopold laughed awkwardly and led Olivia and me onto the floor.

This was the biggest casino in Valeria. If I could take it, the Costello Family's business would climb to a whole new level.

There was one thing about it that I couldn't stand: it played both sides, clean and dirty, like it didn't care where the money came from.

But if you wanted to build something that lasted, you didn't tangle yourself up with the underworld.

Those guys didn't fear consequences. For profit, they'd do anything.

I didn't want that kind of risk anywhere near my life.

I turned to Leopold and got straight to it. "The terms I proposed—have you thought about them?"

Leopold forced a laugh, trying to bargain. "Damien, you know this casino's been around for over forty years. It's been passed down for generations. The foundation is solid. It's hard to meet your requirements in such a short time."

I laced my fingers over my knee, letting him think I understood.

For a place this big, what I was asking wasn't easy.

People protected their own. And a casino like this had roots knotted deep.

Cutting off all contact with the wrong crowd wasn't just difficult. It was nearly impossible.

I curled my fingers and tapped the tabletop, once, then again. "That's why I gave you a year to sever ties with them."

My expression hardened, my voice turning sharper by the second. "I'll be honest. My lover doesn't like me doing dirty business. So the gangs here have to get out of the casino."

Leopold looked trapped. He kept lifting his head, then dropping his gaze, like he could find an answer somewhere on the floor.

I waited. Too long.

My patience thinned to a thread. I took Olivia's hand and started to stand.

The moment I moved, Leopold lunged up and reached out like he could physically stop the deal from walking away. "Damien, come on—let's talk. We can work it out. Why are you being so impulsive?"

I tilted my head, studying his ingratiating smile, then pointed toward the center of the casino, where several men in black uniforms stood like they owned the place.

My voice went cold. "I told you I'm not working with those people. And you still brought them here."

A laugh slipped out of me, flat and humorless. My eyes felt colder than ice. "Looks like you're not that eager to make this deal."

Leopold waved both hands, panicked. "You can't say that. If I didn't want it, why would I call you here at all?"

He pressed on, trying to keep me seated. "Mr. Costello, we came with sincerity. Maybe some of what we did made you suspicious, but we'll find a way to fix it. How about this—you wait here for a moment. I'll go talk to them."

Leopold sat back down across from me with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes and slid a cup of tea my way.

Olivia and I exchanged a look. I tightened my hold on her hand and sat again.

This time, I didn't bother with the polite pacing. "How long?"

Leopold leaned forward, smiling like it was all easy, then rubbed at his beard, uncertain. "That depends on when they—"

The gunshot cracked through the room, tearing the air open.

I reacted on instinct, pulling Olivia down, my hand pressing over the back of her head as I dragged her behind the sofa.

"Ambush," I said, low.

My first suspicion hit Leopold. But when I glanced up, he was shaking so hard he looked like he might fall apart, a dark wet patch spreading across his pants.

Not him.

I tracked the flash of muzzle fire, then shifted Olivia into a more tucked-away spot, somewhere she could stay hidden. My voice stayed close to her ear.

"Stay here. Do not come out."

I drew my gun from my waistband and turned to go.

Olivia grabbed my wrist. "What about you? You're going out there alone?"

"They're after me," I said. "You stay with me, you're not safe."

Her fingers didn't loosen. Her face went tight with panic. "I can go with you—"

"No," I cut in, steady and final. "I have to make sure you're safe."

My gaze dropped to her lower belly.

That did it. It always did.

She swallowed, nodded, and let go.

I didn't get far. Not really. Olivia was still here, and I wasn't about to leave her unprotected.

Gunfire sparked ahead. My bodyguards were already forming a shield around me, and from the rhythm of the shots, it sounded like they had the attackers pinned.

I started to rise—then a scream tore through the noise behind me.

I spun.

A man stood there with a handgun, close enough that I could see the tension in his grip.

I didn't have time to react. I tried to twist away, but the barrel tracked me and leveled at my shoulder.

For a split second, I was sure he'd hit.

Then Olivia moved.

She was fast—too fast for someone who'd been trembling minutes ago. She snatched up a shard of broken glass from the floor and drove it straight into him.

Blood surged out in a thick rush.

In the haze of dust and chaos, our eyes locked.

When the man collapsed, Olivia froze, utterly lost, and I saw it there—fear, raw and shocked, like she'd stepped off a cliff and hadn't realized how far the drop was.

It had to be her first time hurting someone like that.

He wasn't dead. Not yet. But it was close enough to shake her to the core.

Worried she'd spiral, I crossed to her immediately.

The glass had sliced her palm too, a deep, ugly cut that made my stomach turn.

I got her moving, steering her toward the back exit. She kept looking over her shoulder, still worried about what was happening inside.

I pushed her into the car, my voice turning hard on purpose. "Worry about yourself first."