C30 When A Lady Says No

Angelo was one of the few people who could stand up to him in the ring. Yet his consigliere took many bad hits that afternoon.

By the end of their punishing session, sweat pouring down his face, muscles screaming, Dante’s mood was as dark as ever.

Knowing he didn’t want to go back home where he would be faced with many memories that would stir guilt and useless longings in him, Dante decided to visit his casino, hoping the familiar hum of business and the ever-present clink of poker chips and cash would distract him.

Stepping through the glitzy doors, the sights and sounds of the glitzy casino did little to ease the turmoil within him. He scanned the floor with a practised eye, checking for anything amiss.

In the middle of surveying the scene, he noticed a commotion near one of the roulette tables.

A man, clearly too drunk to keep his balance, was causing trouble with one of the serving girls.

The girl was trying to get away from the man, but he wouldn’t allow her.

Dante’s eyes narrowed as he saw the man pinch the girl’s ass while his friends were laughing like idiots.

He stepped forward just as one of the casino guards did the same.

Dante raised his finger and the guard backed away.

Normally, he’d let his staff handle such situations, but tonight, he couldn’t wait to get his hand on the out-of-towner who seemed to have no idea that such actions were not allowed in any Cazador establishments.

“Sir, I need you to respect yourself and let me go. I am not a commodity to be…” the serving girl’s eyes widened when she saw Dante and she quickly bowed to greet him.

That made the lecherous man get a better glimpse of her cleavage and his reaction was to make a move to grab her breasts.

Dante snatched the hand. Jerked it backwards as he said coldly. “The lady said no.”

The man yowled as he tried to pull his hand out of Dante’s.

Some of the men at his table edged away when they saw Dante, but the man tried to swing at Dante.

Dante effortlessly dodged the swipe and twisted the arm further.

The man’s pathetic shriek was drowned out by the pumping music that thumped in tune with Dante’s boiling blood.

“Is that an apology I hear?” Dante asked indifferently as sweat popped out on the man’s forehead and pain showed through his drunk.

“What have I got to apologise for?” the man frothed at the mouth. “She is just a whore playing hard to get. Mind your damn business and you can have her when I am done. Now, let me go!”

A chilly smile teased Dante’s mouth as he let the man go.

The man stumbled forward and swung around to ram into Dante.

He never got the chance.

Dante grabbed his yellow, shaggy hair and smashed his head hard against the roulette table.

His ring split the man's lip as he dealt the first hit.

A haze of fury burned steadily in him as he punched the man’s face over and over again.

Everything else in the casino fell away for Dante as he landed blow after blow on the bastard’s face.

The stain of blood on his fist only fuelled his inner demons more.

For a moment, he pictured Tad’s face under his fists and his punches got heavier and heavier. His pent-up anger spilt out in every punch.

The man barely had time to react before his face was reduced to a bloody pulp. Each hit brought a savage satisfaction, as if somehow, by tearing this fool apart, he could rid himself of the thoughts of Annabelle. The man groaned, slumping against the roulette table, and it was only Angelo’s firm grip on Dante’s shoulder that snapped him back to reality.

“Boss,” Angelo murmured, a warning edge to his tone. “I think he has had enough.”

As much as the bloodlust instinct in him wanted to keep at the man until he would never talk to another lady like that again, Dante simply leaned down, the metallic scent of blood calling to something in him as he whispered close to the unconscious man’s ear, “When a lady says no, she means it.”

Then he let go of the man.

He absentmindedly collected the handkerchief Angelo gave him and methodically cleaned his hand as the man crumpled to the floor.

The white handkerchief turned red before he handed it back to Angelo.

That was when Dante looked around to see the wide-eyed patrons watching the scene in shock. Even the serving girl was as white as a ghost as she stared at the man on the floor.

Dante followed her gaze and he saw that the man’s face had caved in.

“Fuck!” He cursed under his breath as he saw the blood smeared across the polished casino floor, a sharp contrast to the otherwise glamorous setting.

Discovery was not his concern for he was sure that his men would have ensured that no one did a recording already.

Mario, his COO, who was in charge of their non-corporate businesses rushed out from the back room, took in the sight and quickly directed the guards to handle the situation. “Take him out the back,” he ordered. “Make sure he gets treated, no questions asked. Then make him realise what will happen if he does something as silly as trying to press charges.”

The guards nodded before hauling the bloodied man out.

The COO turned to Dante, bowing his head respectfully. “Would you like to come to the office, sir?”

Dante was about to agree when he felt Angelo’s steady gaze on him. His consigliere cleared his throat subtly, a sign that he wanted to speak.

Dante’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t in the mood for more interruptions, but he gave Angelo a chance to speak.

“Boss,” Angelo began, choosing his words carefully. “Would you like me to… look into Annabelle’s whereabouts? Maybe knowing where she is wouldn’t hurt."

Dante’s jaw clenched, and his eyes flashed with barely restrained fury.

Angelo seemed to understand the turbulent emotions churning behind Dante’s stony expression. He raised his hands slightly in a gesture of submission, backing down without further prompting. “Forget I mentioned it.”

Dante turned away, fists clenched at his sides, his mind a raging storm of conflicting thoughts. She wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t. But the image of her haunted him, refusing to let go.

Finally, he gave a curt nod, his voice gruff as he issued the order. “Find her.”

Angelo’s face betrayed a flicker of relief before he masked it with his usual stoic professionalism.

He inclined his head, acknowledging the command, and moved away to make the necessary arrangements.

Dante refused to analyse his thoughts as he followed Mario into the concealed part of the back room which led to his office.