By nightfall, she was finally ready.
Isadora wore a long, fitted black satin gown that hugged her figure before falling elegantly toward the floor, with a subtle slit along one thigh.
The neckline was simple but flattering, while delicate silver earrings caught the light whenever she moved.
Her hair had been styled into soft waves that framed her face, and her makeup was elegant rather than heavy—glowing skin, softly defined eyes, long lashes and a deep nude gloss that completed the look.
She looked like she belonged in a luxury casino surrounded by chandeliers, expensive champagne and people who had never checked the price of anything.
Feeling herself, Isadora slowly descended the staircase.
The conversation downstairs stopped.
Ruel looked up first.
Then Anthony.
Then the guards and servants.
For a moment, nobody said anything.
They were so used to seeing Isadora in pajamas, casual clothes or running around the house that seeing her dressed like this was almost shocking.
Isadora reached the bottom of the stairs and smiled proudly when she saw Valen waiting near the entrance.
“Well?” she asked, turning slightly so he could get a better look.
“Am I not beautiful?” Valen looked at her from head to toe.
“You look like a normal woman.
Nothing strange.” And just like that, he turned and walked toward the car.
Isadora’s mouth fell open.
“Grumpy Valen.” She followed him, shaking her head.
“You look handsome too, though.
And very well dressed.” Valen glanced down at himself.
He was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, the top button left undone.
His dark hair was brushed back neatly, giving him an effortlessly polished look, while a silver watch rested against his wrist.
Everything about him was understated, expensive and annoyingly attractive.
“As usual, you learned nothing about me.” Isadora rolled her eyes with a sigh.
The car door was opened for her, and she climbed inside.
Valen followed a moment later, settling beside her.
As the car pulled away, Isadora suddenly looked at him.
“Wait.
Are you sure we haven’t missed our plane?” Valen gave her a sideways glance.
“Missed our plane?” “Yes.
It’s already night.” “Who said anything about a public plane?” Isadora frowned.
Valen leaned back comfortably.
“We’re taking my private jet.” Her eyes widened.
“Your private jet?” He said nothing.
Isadora slowly turned toward the window, trying to process that she was apparently going to Las Vegas for one night… on a private jet.
“Of course,” she muttered.
“Why would I expect anything normal from you?” Las Vegas welcomed them with a sea of lights.
The casino hotel rose above the Strip like a palace built for people who had more money than sense.
Its enormous glass façade reflected the neon signs surrounding it, while golden lights illuminated the entrance and the rows of luxury cars pulling up beneath the covered driveway.
The sound of music drifted from somewhere inside, mixed with the constant movement of people coming and going.
Everything about the place screamed wealth, excess and temptation.
Isadora stared through the car window, almost forgetting to breathe.
She had never imagined herself coming to a place like this, let alone Las Vegas.
It felt unreal.
She wasn’t entirely sure why Valen had chosen this particular place, but honestly, she didn’t care anymore.
She was here, and that was enough.
The moment they stepped inside, Isadora turned toward him with a smile.
“I want to go to a nightclub.” Valen looked at her.
“Fine.” She blinked, almost surprised that he had agreed so easily.
“You’re serious?” “I said fine.” He glanced toward the two guards who had accompanied them.
“They’ll stay with you.” Isadora barely listened anymore.
Her attention was already wandering toward the music and the crowd.
“I have to meet someone in the private High Roller room,” Valen continued.
“Stay with the guards and don’t leave with anyone.” “Okay, okay.” She nodded distractedly, already thinking about dancing.
Valen watched her for a second before shaking his head.
“She’s not even listening.” Ruel, standing beside him, gave a faint smile.
“She heard the word nightclub.
Everything else disappeared.” Valen sighed.
“Let’s go.” While Isadora disappeared toward the nightlife area with her guards, Valen and Ruel took a private elevator to the High Roller salon.
The atmosphere changed the moment the doors opened.
The private room was nothing like the noisy casino downstairs.
Thick carpets covered the floor, soft golden lighting hung from elegant chandeliers, and dark leather sofas surrounded several polished tables.
The walls were decorated with expensive artwork, while floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the Strip below.
There were no tourists here, no loud crowds and no people taking pictures.
Only men in tailored suits, expensive watches and guarded expressions.
This was where serious money changed hands.
And tonight, it wasn’t only money being discussed.
Valen entered with Ruel beside him, immediately noticing the other groups already waiting inside.
Several men looked toward him as he walked in, and the tension in the room seemed to tighten.
The man waiting at the main table was Paul Webster .
He was known for being unpredictable, which was precisely why most mafias preferred not to deal with him.
He could be charming one minute and impossible to negotiate with the next.
But there was one thing everyone knew about him: when he agreed to a deal, the money involved was enormous.
Valen stopped in front of him.
“You’re late,” the man said.
Valen pulled out a chair and sat down without showing the slightest concern.
“Then you should’ve started without me.” A few men exchanged glances.
Paul studied him for a moment before leaning back.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Da Costa.” “I doubt any of it was flattering.” Paul smiled.
“I like you already.” Ruel remained standing behind Valen, silently observing everyone in the room.
Paul gestured toward the table.
“Let’s make this interesting.” A baccarat table had already been prepared between them.
“One game,” he said.
“Just you and me.” Valen looked at the cards, then at the man sitting opposite him.
“And if I win?” “I’ll take the deal.” “And if I lose?” Paul smile widened.
“You walk away.
No deal, no merchandise, nothing.” Valen leaned back in his chair.
For a moment, the room was completely silent.
Then he reached for the cards.
“Deal.”