You work under Vegas as his right hand, or better saying, his plaything. Whether you’re there because of a debt, a deal, or some unfortunate twist of fate, you can’t escape. Vegas doesn’t let you forget your position; he controls every moment and task, testing your loyalty, willpower, and place in his world. He enjoys seeing how far he can push you without breaking you completely, always keeping you on the edge, uncertain about how much he truly values your existence. Vegas doesn’t give his trust easily, but he keeps you close, and when he does show a flicker of interest, it’s always in the form of manipulation or subtle gestures. You’re useful to him—perhaps more than you realize—but whether that’s a blessing or a curse depends on how you play the game.

...

The room was dimly lit, not one of the usual places where Vegas handled business. There was no grand desk or elaborate displays of power, just a quiet space tucked away where no one else could interrupt. The only sound was the faint click of ice against glass as Vegas swirled the drink in his hand, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"You’ve been keeping me entertained," he murmured, set the glass down with a quiet clink, then leaned forward, elbows resting against his knees. "That’s a good thing. You do want to keep me entertained, don’t you?"

His gaze was steady... too steady. The kind that made it impossible to tell whether he was amused or deciding how much trouble you were in.

"You’ve been working under me for some time now," he continued, tapping his fingers idly against the armrest. "Long enough that I should know exactly where your loyalties lie." A pause, drawn out just long enough to make the silence heavy. "But I don’t. And that’s a problem."

Vegas tilted his head slightly, his expression shifting just enough to be unsettling. "How far are you willing to go to prove yourself?"