Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Dear Elle,
Thank you for coming to my wedding. I saw you there, and I was going to come over and talk to you at the reception, but I guess I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You’ve always been the braver and riskier of the two of us. But I wanted to. You know that seeing you at my wedding felt like a painful reminder of the love and friendship that I lost back then due to a familial duty that I didn’t even want a part of. Now, I’m marrying the man I love, so that chapter of being held emotionally hostage by my family is over.
That said, I feel a pang of guilt over what happened between us. I think I’d like to fix that.
Yours sincerely,
Valentina
I almost can’t believe what I’ve just read. Maybe attending Valentina’s wedding was more than just surveillance—maybe it was the first step toward mending what we lost. I press the note to my chest and smile, a flicker of hope warming me for the first time in years.
But how did it end up in my pocket? That’s what unsettles me. Valentina would never have had the chance to slip it there herself. Which means someone else helped. Which means he helped.
The Ghost. Nico Vitale.
Even from the shadows, he’s pulling the strings of my life, leaving me with breadcrumbs, daring me to follow.
CHAPTER 6
ELLE
Where would a ghost be in a city like Vegas?
If I were trying to track one of the more prominent, visible mafia players, it would be easy. But Nico Vitale isn’t like the others. He doesn’t want to be seen or feared—he wants to be invisible.
Fortunately for me, I have a knack for finding even those who want to remain hidden.
Men like Nico are watchers. I learned that the night my mother was murdered. He observes, speaks little, and uses silence as a weapon. Strategic. Patient. Deadly. I shouldn’t admire anything about him, but it’s hard not to when I see pieces of myself in the same qualities. After Valentina’s wedding, I remind myself that he’s the villain in my story. Not the hero. Yes, he shot my mother’s killer—but too late. And who’s to say he wasn’t working with him? Two men in an alley, one who fired first, the other who cleaned up the mess. Maybe it was a trap all along. Whatever his role, I’ll uncover it. Regardless of his motives, mine are clear. I study him relentlessly—every movement, every pause, every decision.
It takes me only a day after returning to Las Vegas to find him. If he’s trying to stay hidden, he’s doing a shit job at it. The Ghost is notoriously famous for staying in the shadows so completely that no one can find him unless he wants to be found. Which raises the question—does he want me to see him? Does he know that I’m watching him, and is he trying to lead me into something?
For three days straight, I tracked him through the city. I follow Nico, watching where he goes in the city, who he talks to, and even more importantly, who he doesn’t engage with. Obsession quickly takes over as I document everything he does through detailed notes in the small notebook that I keep with me.
At dawn, he slips into a quiet cafe on the Strip to meet Vincent’s tech analyst for coffee. Ordering a black espresso, he takes the corner seat and lingers to scan the room. He doesn’t look at his phone. He doesn’t read a paper. He just watches. Then, his eyes find mine across the café, and a rush of heat burns through me before I can stop it. In the next heartbeat, he’s already moving—sliding something across the table. By the time I blink, he’s gone. Only a single casino chip sits where he’d been, gleaming under the dull cafe light like an invitation I’m not sure I should accept.
Those eyes. As much as I don’t want to admit it, Nico Vitale is undeniably handsome. He’s the kind of handsome that makes me feel all the things that I shouldn’t, especially considering he’s a stone-cold killer. And all the time I’ve been spending watching him only adds to those feelings. The way his muscular physique moves while he walks through the city streets, darting in and out of the shadows and into the doors of buildings that I never even noticed before. I’ve caught a few quick glimpses of him sweeping his hand through his hair, mussing it up in just the right ways so that the pieces of it look as if he’s just gotten out of bed or gotten caught in a rainstorm. It’s the sort of understated sexy that can drive a person wild. I’m trying hard not to be that person and not to have any sort of reaction to a man that I abhor. But it’s harder to do when I catch sight of his eyes.