Page 52 of Gambler's Conceit

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Page 52 of Gambler's Conceit

I go down to the office. Grant is already waiting for our morning briefing, and he launches into it even before I’ve sat down. It’s the usual stuff: issues with guests, meetings we need to arrange, some gaming commission that wants their hush money.

Before Grant is finished, my executive assistant knocks on the door.

“Come in,” I tell her—and freeze when I see who’s behind her.

My grandfather, Leon Spade himself. The head of the Spade family, and the man who built the empire that I’m now profiting off of.

I immediately stand up and go to shake his hand. “Grandfather! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He sniffs disdainfully. “I can’t come to visit my grandson?”

Not unannounced, I think, but I keep smiling for him. “Of course you can. If this is about Uncle Earl?—”

“It’s not about Earl,” Leon says. He glances at Grant, who is frozen in place. “Grant, I don’t need you. Get out.”

Grant’s face turns red, but he nods and moves out stiffly. My assistant hurries after him, just as unwilling to piss Leon off.

I spot Vortex on the other side of the door. He gives me a bewildered look, but I give a quick shake of my head.

Once the door is closed, Leon takes a seat in the armchair. Normally I take that spot, but I don’t say anything.

“So. Have you heard about thisinvestigation?” Leon says.

He manages to make every single word sound like a judgment.

“I have,” I answer quickly. “Would you like coffee or tea, Grandfather?”

“Coffee, black.” Leon folds his arms in front of himself. “What are you doing about it?”

I serve the coffee and take a seat on the couch. “I’ve had people looking into the man’s finances. I think there’s an angle?—”

“Too slow,” Leon interrupts, and he scowls. “That’s the problem with you young people. You’re too damn slow.”

I fight not to scowl right back. “It’s harder to make somebody disappear without a trace these days. Especially somebody who is essentially a public figure.”

“Public? What do you mean, public? He is a man on the internet!” My grandfather scoffs. “There are hundreds of miles of desert out here. Bury him under a rock, and nobody will ever find him.”

“If he’s ‘just a man on the internet,’ then it doesn’t matter if I take a bit more time—” I start.

“Are you contradicting me?” Leon interrupts. “You understand that it’s my good will that lets you keep operating the casino. You are lucky I supported you against Earl. But if you are going to let some nobody tarnish the casino’s reputation, maybe you don’t deserve it.”

Anger spikes through my chest. I own the casino on paper, but if my grandfather decides somebody else should have it, I wouldn’t be able to stop him from taking it.

If I fought him, I would be one of the people buried under a rock in the desert. I don’t believe for one second that my relationship to him would get him to go easy on me.

I nod slightly. “Understood, sir. I will take care of the situation.”

Leon stares at me for another long moment before he gets up. He places the coffee on my work desk. “I expect things to be done within a week. And your coffee tastes like shit. You need a better secretary.”

I grimace and wait for him to leave.

Fuck.

As soon as he’s gone, Grant and Vortex enter my office.

“What was that about?” Grant asks.

Vortex looks around the room like he’s expecting to find a physical threat. Obviously, there’s nothing, but I suppose it iseasier for him to fight off something he can see than something as convoluted as mob politics.




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