CHAPTER 2
VINCENT
The fall semester began last week, and I’ve got a shitload of work to get done in addition to work for the family. Unfortunately, I’m stuck sitting here at Maison Kayser, a fancy French coffee shop on the Upper East Side. Daniela snootily orders four different desserts and a skim-milk cappuccino from the waiter, requesting the shape of a heart in the foam.
This restaurant actually pays Daniela to eat here—just so she’ll take a picture of her enjoying the food and post it on the internet. Apparently, millions of girls all over the world look up to Daniela and want to eat where she eats. Last week, she posted a photograph of her lip gloss, and within an hour, the color was sold out almost everywhere.
“Y-yes, miss.” The waiter stumbles over his words before scurrying away. She smiles like an evil cat; Daniela loves to make people fidget.
“You know, Vincent.” She presses her overly plumped lips together, shifting forward to get closer to me. “The whole-milk cappuccino looks a lot more beautiful than the skim one. I feel like the color is whiter. I wonder if there’s anything to that theory?” She looks at me expectantly, tilting her head to the side. She’s put some shimmer or some shit on her cheeks, and it makes her face sparkle.
I stare at her but refuse to answer such a dumb question.
“Waiter,” she calls out, not taking her green eyes off mine. She lifts her hand in the air, shifting her fingers around like an impatient child.
He walks back over to us. Before he can take out his pad and a pen, she barks her updated order. “I want a skim and whole-milk cappuccino.” Her demanding attitude grates on my nerves. “And I’m in a hurry. Have them rush it.”
I finally break my hatred-fueled eye contact to look at the waiter, stopping him before he can walk away. “Thank you.” He nods at me appreciatively before leaving.
She snickers at the angry look on my face. “Oh, come on, Vincent. It’s his job.”
I shake my head slowly. “The way you treat people, Daniela.”
“Oh, come on. You’re the richest man in this place. Don’t be so sour.”
“Sour? What does money have to do with anything. You have no respect for anyone. All you care about is your social media bullshit.”
“Don’t talk down to me,” she spits. “Social media is the new age.”
“No one gives a fuck!”
“They don’t? Tell that to my million followers or the designers who beg me to wear their clothes and accessories.” She pulls out a green cashmere sweater from a shopping bag hanging off her seat. “Tell that to this gorgeous sweater you’ve been gifted by Armani. People would die to get this for free.”
“I’m not wearing your shit.” I crack my knuckles one at a time. “You ask me all the time, and the answer is always the same—no. You need me to come out, smile for a damn photograph, fine. But wearing the clothes you choose? Fuck no.” I clench my jaw and she immediately pulls back.
She drops her lips into a frown. I can sense she’s going to try a new tactic. Daniela is nothing if not a great actress.
“Vincent, you don’t have to wear any of it, okay?” Her voice is five times higher than it was a moment ago, her eyes spelling out disappointment. But I know the only real thing behind her gaze is calculation.
I let out a cutting laugh. “I’m not your bitch, Daniela. I never will be. I don’t wear what you tell me to wear. I do what I want, when I want. Feel me? I may be stuck in this fucking lie of a relationship to keep your father happy, but remember that you and I are nothing in real life. Don’t delude yourself into thinking otherwise.”
She tries to put her hand on mine, but I tear it away before she can touch me.
“I know, baby. Calm down. You’re too wound up. It’s because classes have started, right? I know how serious you get about school.” She looks around, making sure no one is watching us argue, the idea that anyone might see us gets her nervous. “Tell me what I can do to relax you, huh?” She licks the corner of her lip seductively.
I practically snarl. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I throw my napkin on the table and push my chair back, wanting to get the hell away from her.
“Come on,” she purrs with a gleam in her eye. “I know we haven’t fucked in ages, but it doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind—”
I grip the side of the table, my knuckles turning white. “I will never touch you again, understand?” I take a deep breath, doing my best not to flip the table and walk out. Luckily, the waiter brings the two cappuccinos and a tray full of gourmet desserts, none of which she plans to eat. I’ve actually watched her take bites of food only to spit it out after the photograph has been taken.
The waiter glances at my hardened face and drops the dishes in front of us before speed-stepping to the back of the room.
“But why, Vincent? We were so good together!”
“No. We weren’t.”
“We used to fuck like crazy! You loved it. I know you did. I just don’t understand—”
“My life isn’t for you to understand,” I growl in frustration. She can’t take a hint.
She sits up with her lips pursed, knowing no matter how much I hate her guts, I’m not going anywhere. “Anyway, sit back. I don’t want your shadow in the pictures. Oh, actually, do you think you’ll eat a dessert for me? I think everyone would love to see you opening wide for something white and creamy.” She raises her brows, smirking. Does she think she’s funny?
I breathe hard, trying not to tear the hair from her skull. “You’re a sick bitch. You know that?”
“If I remember clearly, it didn’t bother you too much before. In fact, I think you liked it.”
Daniela Costa is into some kinky shit—and that’s saying a lot coming from a man like me, who has done it all, and then some. When we started out, I was nothing but a cocky kid, willing to lay it on her for two reasons: one, she was hot; two, the family wanted someone to keep a close eye on the business we had with her father—owner of the largest bank in Central America. Costa houses and cleans our dirty money. Daniela and I went to school together, and it was damn obvious she wanted my dick. It was no surprise my father tapped me on the back to handle it.
We all hate Alexander Costa, and everyone knows he’s a loose cannon, but there really isn’t another option to working with him. Not yet, at least. As our operations continue to grow and give off cash, the small-time pawnshops and strip clubs aren’t enough to launder all of our money. Costa, on the other hand, has the capacity to clean tens of millions a year. The situation seemed easy; I fucked Daniela, kept an eye on business, and all was well.
And then I met Eve. She’s genuine and smart and somehow, perfect for me. She just got me. The real me.
I knew I couldn’t touch Daniela anymore. It’s not that I was ever faithful to her and she easily accepted it. Once I met someone real, the thought of another woman wasn’t appealing anymore. Simple as that.
I spoke to the family, letting them know business dealings between Costa and the family were functioning well, and we had no reason to keep such a close eye on him anymore. The man was making a huge percentage off our business; none of us thought he’d be dumb enough to jeopardize that kind of cash flow. But when I made it clear to Daniela that she and I were done, she went insane. I don’t think anyone in her life has ever told her “no” before.
It took only an hour for Costa to call my father and go berserk, threatening the family. Keeping his princess Daniela happy was necessary, or he’d stop laundering and holding our cash. Apparently, she was in the midst of growing her social media empire, and my face was essential to her growing fame. A family vote was called, and everyone insisted I make it right with her. I was told to do whatever it takes to keep her happy. That is, until I build a new business to take over Costa’s use of ours.
I’ve spent this past year working to build out my own hotel and casino complex on the Tribal Lands in Nevada. As the son of a Masuki Tribe member, I have some inalienable rights, which I plan to capitalize on. And if the numbers turn how I expect them to? Our dirty cash can easily be laundered within the hundreds of millions we’ll be making per year in clean money.
Once I get the family out of Costa’s grip, I’ll be free of him and his leech daughter. And then, maybe, I can find Eve again.
The terms between Daniela and me right now are simple: I have to look and act as though I’m still with her. She doesn’t care whether or not we fuck anymore, so long as I play the part. But if I refuse to smile for the damn camera? She’ll get Daddy involved, and the family would be left with a boatload of cash that the FBI would love to get their hands on. I’m stuck being her public boyfriend until Gaming gets off the ground.
Daniela shifts a bony shoulder and shuffles in her seat, bringing my attention back to her. “I think the red raspberries look best against the white cup, don’t you?” She moves the cappuccino slightly askew and snaps maybe twenty pictures of each dessert with the frothy drink. Standing up to get other angles, her jeans hug her flat ass. How do millions of girls look up to this shit?
Daniela stops taking pictures, putting her fancy iPhone down on the table and bringing the cappuccino up to her glossy lips. “Okay. Talk to me. What’s going on, Vincent? You’re brooding and more pissed-off than usual.” She rolls her eyes, putting down her cup.
I clench my teeth. “Just take the fucking photo already.” We both know why I’m here today, and it isn’t to chitchat.
“Okay, if you insist.” She smiles. “Turn to the side and lean back on the chair with your foot crossed at the front.”
The flash goes off and I grind my teeth together.