Dom looks her way as well. “I assumed that’s who has been watching me so closely. It’s lovely to meet you, Greer.”

Greer uncrosses her arms and nods. “Likewise, I’m sure.” She shocks me by adding, “I’ve seen you before. With the two guard dogs. In Midtown one night when I was leaving work.”

Dom lifts his chin. “You take too many chances with your safety, Ms. Karas. You’ve been lucky my men have been keeping tabs and have intervened on your behalf.”

Holly stiffens beside me, and the color drains from Greer’s face.

“What?”

“I extend my protection to you out of courtesy to your brother because I know it would trouble him for you to be injured. But that’s no reason to be so careless.”

My insides, which have already taken a beating today, once again turn cold.

“Fuck.” I lift my hand from Holly’s and scrub it over my face. “Greer, you’re getting a bodyguard. Don’t argue with me. It’s happening.”

Greer opens her mouth to protest, but I glare her into silence. Her lips snap shut.

“I’m happy to recommend some competent ones,” Dom says, a condescending smile on his face.

“I’ll take care of it, but thank you for the offer.”

Once again, he gives me what I now think of as the Dom nod. “Now about Damon. You’ll have his stock certificate in hand tomorrow. Consider it a belated wedding present.”

He stands and glances at Holly. “I’ll be keeping tabs on your mother, as well. If she gets out of line again, we’ll make sure she’s encouraged to not make the same mistake again. I believe that concludes our business.”

Holly speaks up. “You’re not going to . . .”

He laughs. “No. But she won’t be a problem.” Dom nods at both of us, and then looks to Greer. “It was nice to finally meet you. I don’t expect we’ll see each other again.” His gaze lands on me again. “And if you’re wondering, the wiring in your building has malfunctioned mysteriously, and we were never here.”

Holly sucks in an audible breath, and I raise a brow. “And the doorman and other residents?”

He cocks his head. “We didn’t exactly use the front door. We’ll see ourselves out. Take care, Creighton. It was lovely to meet you, Holly. Good luck at the CMAs.”

We stand in stunned silence while the room once again goes dark, and the mob boss—my father—exits our life with his two bodyguards just as quickly as he entered it.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Holly loses it. “Holy cow, Creighton. Holy cow-tipping, runnin’ from the cops, falling into a pile of shit. Oh my God, did that really just happen?”

From Greer, I hear a hushed, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Do you think you’ll ever see him again?” Holly asks.

The lights come back on, and I blink a few times before replying. “I have no idea. But my guess is, not unless he wants me to.”

I’m still trying to comprehend everything that I’ve learned in the last couple of hours. It’s surreal. The man I thought was my biological father was not. All the hatred that has come from my uncle all these years has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with his own fucked-up issues. So, one burden lifted and another burden dropped like a wrecking ball through the very fabric of my existence.

Greer crosses toward us. “As much as I’m a little freaked out right now to leave your place, I gotta go.”

I hug my sister, and as she steps away, I tell her, “You’re getting a bodyguard. No more walking around Manhattan late at night because you don’t leave work until two a.m.”

“I’m not going to win this one, am I?” she asks.

“No.”

“I respectfully reserve the right to argue the point later.”

“Spoken like a lawyer. I’m calling Michael. He’ll be waiting downstairs in less than ten minutes. Don’t leave the building until you see him pull up.”

Greer sucks in a long breath. “Fine.” She raises on tiptoe to press a kiss to my cheek. “Call me if anything crazy happens.”

I ruffle her hair. “Of course. Now, go.”

Once my sister closes the door behind her, Holly and I are left standing in the middle of the penthouse, staring at each other. She breaks the silence first.

“Are we still on for Vegas?”

Not where I thought she’d start the conversation, but a good choice nonetheless. I’ve never wanted to get out of New York so badly in my life.

“Hell yes.”

She smiles. “Good. Then I have one more question.”

Her smile loosens something within me, and I feel my own lips curl up at the edges.

“What, baby?”

“Does that make you a Mafia prince? I’m not trying to make light of the situation.” She holds up a hand. “I swear, I’m not. Because this is crazy and emotional and intense. And just plain crazy. But that Mafia prince thing . . . if you’re down for some role-play when we’re in Vegas, I’m not going to say no to that.”

My chest shakes with bubbling laughter, and the most insane situation I’ve ever faced in my entire life dissolves away for the moment because of the quirky, amazing, gorgeous woman in front of me.

I drop a hand on each of her shoulders. “Let’s see what happens when we get to Vegas.”

“Karas International stock has risen sharply following the news that the shareholder suit against its chief executive officer, Creighton Karas, was dropped earlier this week. Karas commented from the floor of Caesar’s Palace, where he stood at his wife’s side during her run on the craps table. ‘I’m happy to see that my uncle understands that the health of the company is more important than any grudge he has against me personally. We’re looking forward to another record-breaking year in profits.’ There’s no doubt the world will be watching Karas International, and its CEO, closely in the coming months.”

I reach for the radio and flip it from the news station to my favorite channel, The Highway, which features up-and-coming country artists mixed in with all the old favorites.

“Glad they got the part about the craps table in there,” Creighton says.

“And that Dom was as good as his word,” I add.

Creighton lays an arm across the back of my seat. “Yes, yes he was. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”