Personal or professional?
I didn’t need Scott to study my game play from an objective distance. The whole stupid bet was if he won, we’d spend the night together. I felt him behind me. I could almost imagine the way his eyebrows furrowed together when a player made a Hail Mary style of call. I pretended not to hear the occasional, that’s my girl when the cards fell my way.
My attitude needed a quick adjustment before I decided to throw the game tomorrow just to win the man.
“I think we can take a break,” the dealer offered. “Fifteen minutes and I start dealing with or without you.”
“How’d you go?” I stood up, stretching as Scott handed me bottled water. No ice cubes and lime unless ordered from the bar. His poker face still in place, I couldn’t tell if he’d bowed out early or cleaned up.
“Next time at least bring me to a game with people who can play. I was seated with a bunch of unlucky amateurs who figured if they held their own in pubs then this would be easy.”
“Congratulations,” I said automatically as the dealer returned to the table. It had been barely three minutes.
“Thanks, how about you?” Scott sounded like he actually cared, and neither of us mentioned the natural way his hand rested against my hip. It had been on the back of the chair until three drunks pushed into us. Scott overbalanced, trying to protect me. Except, instead of backing away, I leaned into him. His hand on my hip was my reward. Or his.
“First group were easy. This last couple can certainly play. But there’s one that is going to give me a little bit of grief.”
“Can you take him?” Scott voiced my concern. Damn him, I needed to sit down with confident arrogance. Put Carlynn back in her bottle and channel GG all the way.
“Why—are you afraid of what happens if you and I don’t come up against each other?”
“Not at all.” Now his hand dropped until his fingers teased the hem of my skirt. Flinching it up, feathery strokes against my legs. He couldn’t see my closed eyes behind the dark shades. Savoring his touch. Wanting more. Willing to walk away now, if he’d follow.
“Why not?” I almost forgot to breathe.
“Like it or not, you and I are on a collision course,” he whispered. If I turned my head, his lips would be on mine instead of close enough to nibble my ear. “If it’s not this weekend it will be another.”
“Promises, promises,” I purred, enjoying the way his eyes softened with my tone.
“Time!” The MC announced and the room was filled with chair scrapes and nervous bustle.
“Part of me wants to wish you luck the other part—” With no one we knew watching, Scott’s breath was hot against my cheek. So close—
“Kill me or kiss me?” I’d been wrestling with the same choices since I met him.
“Something like that.”
“Gonna watch me?”
“I’ve never stopped.”
I rejoined my table of confident and rested faces. Four men who were ready to outplay and outlast.
Biding my time on the first three hands before I decided on a plan. Almost as big a call as going all in without seeing the cards, I decided to leave the strongest player alone, and work on getting to the final two. I easily had the largest stack, so had time and chips on my side.
Looking up at Scott who, true to his word, hadn’t taken his eyes off me. His eyes were clear, no trace of alcohol even though he looked to be finished playing for the night.
Yes or no?
Why the hell not?
Watching Scott watch me, I slowly and deliberately removed my dark glasses. I hated being predictable and had spent the last month practicing in the mirror. Even recording myself until I was confident of being able to hold my eyes firm, counting breaths and blinks. I’d always intended to test my new skill this weekend—but didn’t expect Scott to be in my audience.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Scott cautioned from across the table.
Ignoring him and counting seconds, I stilled my body to resist the urge to replace my glasses. They’d been my crutch, and I hated relying on anything or anyone.
“All in.” The strongest player to my left had passed, allowing the young tradie with a nervous facial tick to make his move. Silly boy.
Sensing his chance, mid-thirties in an ochre shirt with an unfortunate tell of scratching his nose at any picture card, matched the call. One to go before my turn. I checked my cards again, queen of diamonds and seven of clubs. A nothing hand.
“All in.”
Damn. I wanted to call. I even had enough chips to make the call, but did I really want someone to quadruple their stack because I allowed my ego to get in the way of good sense?
“How much?” I asked the dealer, buying time.
A quarter of my stack.
At least if I lost, the rest of the night would be interesting.
“Let’s play,” I said, handing over my chips. Refusing to look at Scott. How much was trying to impress a man who’d already seen what I could do at the table?
Tradie showed a King and two of spades. Nice, not.
Ochre-shirt showed a ten of diamonds and nine of hearts. No threat there.
Mr. Wannabe Hipster of the braided goatee also had a ten, but of spades with an Ace of diamonds putting him one up on Ochre-shirt.
I heard Scott inhale at the flop. Ten of hearts, four of clubs and king of diamonds. Shit, shit, shit. The seven of diamonds on the turn card gave me a pair but not even the highest pair on the table. Not even another queen would save me. I needed a seven. Two more in the pack, what were my odds? I knew the odds; Scott knew the odds. Every person at the table and watching knew the odds.
I couldn’t change the cards. I could only control my breathing and blinks.
Three—two—one—
The dealer turned the final card and after one chair was flung away by a very uncool hipster and I shook the other two players’ hands; I kissed my fingertips before pressing them to the seven of spades. The card Scott had called me. Now my favorite card.
“Nicely played,” the final player said.
“Thanks, lucky card.”
“Gotta still be in the hand to see the card. As I said, nicely played.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m Garrett.” He offered his hand, a bit late to start making introductions. Then again, none of the men bothered to notice me as a player until I stripped them bare. “Do you live near here?”
“No.”
Garrett shut up while we parried back and forth for the next few hands. Neither of us making big calls. I was waiting for the right cards, setting a couple of traps with fake tells, and assuming he was doing the same.
“Going out after?” Garrett broke our silence after I halved his stack. No luck was necessary when his bluff backfired against the strongest hand I’d had in an hour. Dealt two kings, no chance I was gonna walk away.
“No.”
“Look, we don’t need to end tonight on bad terms. How about winner buys the first round of drinks and we kick back?”
Scott took half a step towards Garrett who clearly hadn’t been watching us together during the break.
“No.”
This time Garrett kept up the flirting banter as we collected our next hand, oblivious to Scott’s fury and my discomfort.
“I mean without the smog; the stars are so clear if you just go a couple of miles out of town.”
“Thank you, but no.”
An eight and nine of diamonds. Too much to walk away from, but not enough to stake my reputation. I called Garrett’s raise.
“Girl looking like you, we should be able to find a party somewhere. A nice bottle with your name on it.”
“Maybe another time.” Telling him no hadn’t worked and Scott seemed disinterested. Did Scott not care?
More to the point, did I want Scott to care? I normally hated jealous, alpha assholes. But a protective would-be lover might be nice. It would at least show me that Scott—
“All in.”
Damn, Garrett barely waited for the flop before calling. Sitting back with a smug look asking to be slapped. The bastard had been trying to distract me, not realizing that Scott was doing enough of that without any help.
The Jack and seven of diamonds were helpful, but the Jack of spades was a concern. The only call I could put Garrett on was three of a kind and hoping for a full house.
The smart money would be to fold. Get my head back in the game and forget about Scott until we walked out of this room.
I looked to Scott, for inspiration more than advice.
A quick game would give us a longer night.
Logic be damned.
Despite my brain pleading with my vocal cords, I strangled out the call.
Of course, Garrett tabled a pair of aces. I couldn’t win a bloody trick.
“Bad luck there, princess.” Garrett no longer hid his nerves, assuming I was about to be cleaned out.
Asshole! I hated losing, but hated pretentious, chauvinistic gloaters even more.
One more card.
It seemed the story of my life was playing the odds and hoping the last card would fall in my favor.
“I mean,” Garrett continued for the benefit of his audience, “You played okay but tonight’s about cleaning out the minnows. If you want to hang around tomorrow, I’d be happy to show you—”
“Oh my,” I sighed in relief. Not even delight in being able to wipe the smirk from Garrett’s face, but relief I could play another day. One more chance to come up against Scott. One-on-one.
Other than fuck-me-up-against the wall kind of sex, sitting across from Scott and letting our wits battle for supremacy was the greatest high. It beat chocolate and roses.
“That’s my girl!” Scott’s voice was clear above the other shocked gasps and clapping from the crowd. Ignoring my opponent who couldn’t stop looking at the ten of diamonds, I looked towards Scott. His outburst seemingly as much a shock to him, as it had been to me.
We were both going to win, tonight. Not even our pride, egos and fear of tomorrow was going to get in our way. One night. After all the shit I’d survived, karma owed me one night.
“And then there were two,” I purred, over the top of the dispelling crowd.
“I think what you meant to say is that you will be going through to the final thirty and have a shot at the final table,” the dealer corrected.
I flashed him my high voltage smile, shook his hand and packed away my chips in the pre-labeled plastic bag. Scott knew what I meant.
“Ready to leave—or do you want to watch one of the other tables?” Scott asked, knowing the answer by helping me into my long black jacket.
Too tired from playing games, I sighed and didn’t let go of his hand. “If you don’t know exactly what I want by now, then you really aren’t the man I think you are.”
“And what sort of man is that?”
“A man that can read a woman as well as he can read a room.”
Did he need a bloody roadmap? I turned until both his hands were in mine and our hips might have well been singing their own song.
“There’s just one problem with that,” Scott whispered, pulling me in until our breath was as one. “If I get it wrong, then we’ll lose more than just money.”
“Well then, don’t get it wrong!” Releasing his hands, I brushed his chest with my nails. Feeling him clench, muscles tighten into a soft groan. “Full disclosure. I only booked one room. You can try your best tomorrow to take me at the table, but tonight I just want you to take me.”
“Fuck, I hope you know what you’re doing.” Scott murmured.
“And here I was, hoping you did!” I laughed, resting my head into his shoulder, just for a minute feeling normal. Oh, it felt good to laugh and flirt with a man again. At least with Scott, the only way he could use me would be in the bedroom, and it had been a long time between drinks.
“Feeling fit?” Scott asked as we joined the group of thirty or more other players waiting for the single elevator to go up to the rooms.
“Are you sure you’ll still have energy at the top?”
“I guess I should have asked what floor.”
“Race you to the top!”
Only when Scott opened the door to the fire stairs, did I stop. “Don’t you need to get your bag from the concierge?”
“Yeah, what about you?”
“Everything I want will be in the room as soon as you are.” Shit, I sounded like a Hallmark card. “I don’t care about who wins and loses tomorrow as long as it’s one of us. All I care about is what happens tonight.”
Having been too honest for my own good, I darted up the stairs. Not letting my lack of fitness or high heeled boots slow me down.
Someone might as well throw me off the roof for my stupidity.
Scott wasn’t about to be my tomorrow or give me a happily ever after. Eventually, he’d ask too many questions and wouldn’t let me get away with half-truths and evasive answers.
One night. Perhaps, one weekend.
“This could go so spectacularly wrong,” Scott wasn’t even out of breath by the time he beat me to the top floor, his overnight bag slung across his shoulder. “I mean, we move in the same card circles and you’re about to start working at Softli”
Yet again, our hot and cold dance continued. Scott was filled with doubt while I was running out of time and options. Life could be short, and for once I wanted to live in the present.
“This is our floor.” An unnecessary explanation, given the only other sign led up to the roof.
I watched for any reaction as Scott opened the heavy fire door. The trouble with gamblers was their ability to hold their emotions as tight as their cards.
To hell with waiting, as Scott held the door open for me, I spun into his arms. Taking him by surprise, cupping his face and melting into his lips until they responded with the passion I’d been waiting for.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The door alarm matched the beating of my heart. Still, I refused to let go first. Allowing Scott’s tongue to flicker around, teasing my lips, my tongue and then sucking away any reasons to stop. Bracing the door with his body, his hands fell to my waist. Gently resting his fingers, holding me at bay until I took half a step closer.
Not caring about the incessant beeps. The alarm forcing Scott to make a decision. Us or no us.
With a last flurry, his lips left mine bereft. Squeezing my ass, he shook his head, “Ready to show me your cards?”
“No, but I’m happy to watch you try and convince me to overplay my hand.”
Giggling like naughty school children, we released the fire door, ignored the scandalized looks from other guests who had filled the corridor in response to the noise and lightly jogged down to my room.
“Wait!” I stopped just before my door, trying to find my room key. Damn it, could I have dropped it downstairs?
“Are you sure you’ve got it?”
“I think so.” I rumbled through lip-gloss, pens and the bracelet I normally wore at the table but couldn’t find when I was getting dressed. “Here, it was in the bottom of my bag.”
Scott took the key, not commenting on my shaking hand.
“At least life with you is never boring.”
“Give me a couple of hours and you’ll call me anything but boring,” I teased, waiting for Scott’s reaction to our bed strewn with playing cards, flowers and chocolates.
“All of this for me?”
“Don’t worry, there’s a little something special for me, too.”
The remainder of the hamper had been stashed in the small refrigerator. I handed over the bottle of champagne for Scott to do the honors while I got the chilled glasses.
We almost missed the soft knock at the door as the cork flew out of control across the room and Scott tried to save what he could of the bubbles.
“And you say I’m not boring!” Oh, if felt good to laugh.
“Ms.Rush, your meals as reque
sted?” The bellboy pushed through the trolley with my preordered meals underneath the cloches. All it had taken was a text before leaving the room downstairs for the desk to make the magic happen.
“Thank you.” But before I could even reach my bag to get a tip, Scott beat me to it.
“Allow me.” He handed over a fistful of dollars before closing the door.
With the world on the other side of the door, I no longer cared about hot food or cold champagne.
Standing between Scott and the bed, he accepted my hand. Coming close enough for my fingers to walk their way up his chest. “Allow you to do what?
A swallow. A deep breath almost bucking away my fingers. Then the words I’d been waiting to hear, “Whatever the fuck you let me.”
“Then shut up and just do me.”
I expected to kiss.
I expected that after all it had taken to get to this minute, that Scott would push me back, fall on top of me and we’d let nature take its course.
I didn’t expect Scott to step backwards, not exactly pushing me away, but not bringing me closer.
“This isn’t easy.” His eyes wanted understanding, but his body was leaning towards the door. “Not the way I feel about you, that’s the easiest thing in the world, But, Carlynn, there’s a lot of other shit.”
Stupid little girl. I’d just offered Scott something he was never gonna take, or appreciate.
“Then get the hell out of my room, go and find a park bench or something to sleep on, or just drive back to the city.” I’d almost finished delivering the words dispassionately. Then, I overplayed my hand, “I don’t care.”
“I really don’t care,” I repeated, not even knowing who I was trying to convince. “Just leave, I don’t care.”
“Sweetheart, GG,” his voice was full of pain and remorse. As if we’d already made the mistake rather than calling time, in time. “We both care, otherwise it wouldn’t be this bloody hard.”
“Leave, I don’t care,” I moaned, taking the refilled glass.
“You care, I care. We both care, even though all we’ve tried to do these last months is tear each other apart.”
Reckless Gamble: a billionaire high stakes suspense romance (City Sinners Book 4) Page 11