Not typical spectators.
Who did Basilio want to win?
Nothing but crap cards for the next hands and the winner walked away with the blinds. Surely, GG had better cards than to keep folding. At least it gave me time to think. Consider my options.
There were only two questions. Did I love her, really love her? If so, then how much?
A million dollars?
Her red lips should have been a turn on, but I preferred them naked, moist and attached to mine.
As much as I enjoyed the black leather bustier held together with laces and studs, her tanned and oiled breasts would look better in the shower, with droplets of water settling on the tips of her nipples.
I missed how she could verbally spar about any sport. All four football codes and knew the stats for the top teams and rep sides.
Her’s was the first voice I wanted to hear in the morning—not the annoying radio announcer wishing the world a wonderful day.
No one made me laugh at the crazy, little things in life like GG. No one else made a game of language—picking words at random from the urban dictionary and challenging me to use them in a meeting. She used my intellect against me, and made it fun.
I could walk away. I could blow a hand so only she’d know it. Hand her the full pot and walk away.
A million dollars?
Cheap at half the price—if she knew it came from the bottom of my heart. A large enough hit for Jarryd and Basilio to understand my playing days were over.
Jarryd was a good friend, but we’d still have weekend Park Runs. Losing tonight was a justifiable reason for walking away. If Carlynn wanted to take the money and run, then there’d be no reason to remain in Sydney, Melbourne or even Australia. Hong Kong had beckoned once before.
“Fold,” I said, throwing away a pair of Kings.
All I needed was the perfectly bad hand and for GG to pick up my tell.
Her career had been ruined as much as mine.
At least one of us could have the chance to start again.
GG
I’d give it all up for another chance.
Restart the last week with fresh eyes and the benefit of hindsight.
The moment I’d seen the article, I should have gone straight to Scott. Tracked him down at his office or stalked his home. Instead, I’d gone to Mason for understanding and then drowned my sorrows at the nearest bar that opened before midday.
I’d been self-absorbed, thinking about my career, abruptly shot to pieces.
The half a day it had taken to realize how Scott would have read the article, was half a day too long.
I should have swallowed my own pride and begged Mason, Darius, any of Scott’s team who still had an ounce of respect for me, begged them to convince Scott that I’d never betray a man I loved.
Loved. Not past tense.
Still loved.
Damn it! I blinked away the tears before they could make their way down my cheeks, declaring my weakness to the room.
Scott was my weakness. From the moment we met, until this last.
The next hand was dealt, and I hesitated before picking up my cards. How could I be hell bent on destroying Scott, taking the last of his money at a game that meant nothing?
Without Scott in my life, I had nothing.
Basilio would have won.
Basilio Calibri was the only person who had the connections and motivation to get me here tonight. Destroying Scott at the same time would be icing on his cake. I looked around the room and tried to calculate how much Basilio would have made from tonight. After hiring the room, security and catering?
How much was sabotaging my career, and Scott’s, worth?
How long would he continue to claim revenge? Over Matt, me, and now Scott?
How long would I have to pay for my unforgivable decision to fall in love with and marry Matt?
Norman Hastings had warned me—about Basilio and then about Matt.
My uncle had tried to play peace-maker, while still warning me that hell hath no fury as an Italian scorned.
I’d thought, or at least hoped, that over the past six years, Basilio’s multiple women had soothed more than his ego.
Poor Scott—and even Matt. Neither of them stood a chance. Because of Basilio’s obsession with me.
Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty seconds. “Call.”
I looked for the tell, the light tap of his little finger.
Looking into his eyes, he hadn’t wavered all night. Now, it was as if his cards were an inconvenience, deserving no more than a cursory glance.
Tell or trap?
I had no idea.
When he’d let out the tell early in the night, I knew it’d trap the other players—and it did. I also assumed he didn’t expect me to fall for it.
Then again, did he hate me so much that lulling me into a false sense of security was his game all along?
Almost like inviting me to the advanced ski slopes when he knew I could barely figure out how to strap on the boots. The cabin and fire had been for us, the slopes had been for him.
“Can I have another soda?” I ignored the cards to ask for another drink. I’d need a break shortly or there would be consequences.
“Don’t forget the three slices of lime and three ice cubes,” Scott reminded.
“I can’t believe you remember.”
I wanted a sign. Something to believe in. That even after all the shit and lies and mistrust, that I still meant something. That he’d heard my warnings and read the cards.
“I remember everything.”
“I doubt you remember I’m a better skier than you! Or is that a secret you were intending to take to your grave?”
Please remember.
I’d been so incredibly jealous of the ski bunny instructor with the designer ski suit and hands that refused to stay by her side. I couldn’t compete, and didn’t. He skied. I waited for him to return.
“I remember you set me up with dodgy skis on a run you said was for beginners.”
“You are a beginner.”
“I should never have trusted you.”
“You survived.”
Neither of us were talking about skiing, but as long as Basilio either didn’t hear or understand, we could continue our private conversation in public.
“I could have broken my neck on the slopes trusting you.”
“I offered to do anything to make it up to you—but as usual, you were too stubborn to listen.”
“What have you got, little girl?” He was being intentionally provocative, nodding to my cards.
“What do I need to beat?” I threw back, my attitude more for our audience. They’d never seen a better show at the table.
“Jacks of hearts and spades.”
“Hmmm, probably beat my two and three of spades.” I wanted to believe he’d remembered the tarot cards. Had he just told me about falling in love too easily and fighting for a cause? Us. We were the cause.
“Baby, you can talk all night, or you can just pack it in and communicate with your conscious.”
Yes. He understood.
“Fold.” Scott pushed away his cards, even though I knew he’d set the trap.
“Last hand before the next break.”
We watched the cards deftly dealt across the table.
“We won’t need to come back after the break, will we?” Scott asked, purposely looking at his hand, back to me and giving a subtle wink. Memories of the night I’d dipped my glasses to wink at him came flooding back. That was the night I’d shown Scott who I was. Introducing GG to Carlynn.
After a glance to my cards, I returned the gesture. Carefully setting my shades to rest beside my refilled glass. Face cool and detached even while my head and heart fought for supremacy. Was Scott Alexander the evil bastard still determined to destroy me no matter the cost, or my reckless gamble. The man and love I’d fight for, or die trying?
Seconds passed. The room waited.
My cards hadn’t changed fr
om my first glance. Nothing. A ten and eight of hearts. An easy fold.
To lose, meant Scott would never have to see me again.
Technically unemployed and unemployable, without the cash from tonight, I’d only be able to front the buy-in for another game if Basilio offered his help.
Basilio’s price would be higher than my pride. But, to deny him could be the literal cost of life I’d been hoping to avoid.
“Ms.Rush?”
“Call.”
The flop gave me nothing. We each passed. The turn card gave a third spade. Nothing to help my defenseless cards.
“Raise, one hundred.” Scott didn’t mean one hundred dollars.
“Ms.Rush?”
“Ms.Rush?”
“Ms.Rush, I really must insist,” the dealer prompted for the third time.
“Is there a time limit I wasn’t aware of?” I asked, engaging in a meaningless filibuster while my heart and head fought it out.
“Not at all, but out of respect to your opponent—”
At that, I snorted, “My opponent does not respect me at cards or in any other capacity. Therefore, whether he respects me for taking forty, and I do mean, forty seconds or a minute forty is immaterial. I refuse to beg for respect when there is no chance of it being returned.”
Did he understand? Forty, Scott, I said forty seconds!
“Returned?” Scott joined the party, his eyes twinkling as they always did when we bantered. Fine, others would think we were fighting, not realizing this was just our version of foreplay. “That would indicate that you respect me enough not to trash my reputation in public.”
I could play this game, but before I could plead innocence, there it was, again. A subtle wink.
He wanted me to call, even go all in.
I looked to my cards, again. I had nothing.
But, without Scott, I had even less.
Ignoring the dealer, I looked at the mountain of money on the table. Representing everything I’d worked for and owned. Win or lose, I’d never have the courage to play for these stakes again.
Closing my eyes, I thought back. Trying to piece together all the fragments of our relationship.
From our weekend in Katoomba, to making love next to the fire in Queenstown. Even the night Scott almost blew up my phone trying to warn me that Basilio knew my new name.
Scott risked Basilio’s wrath if he was caught winking again.
Swallowing my pride, I took a long sip of the water, the ice cubes pressing against my lips.
“Ms.Rush, I really must insist.”
I felt Scott stop breathing, waiting for my call.
I’d promised myself never to trust a gambler.
I’d promised myself never to trust a man and to never fall in love.
Ignoring Basilio and the dealer.
To the only man in the room, I said—
All in
GG
“All in.”
With fake bravado about the cards and relief at not having to care about the result, I pushed my remaining chips into the middle of the table to gasps from the crowd.
The dark glasses that would have hidden my eyes still lay next to my empty glass, the ice cubes long melted under the lights.
I’d done all I could to make it abundantly clear to Scott—I had nothing. Not in my hand and not without him.
“Mr. Alexander, your call.” The dealer had moved to the top of my shit list with his unnecessary prompts.
Torn between wanting Scott to read my eyes and keeping us both safe by Basilio’s ignorance, I listened as Scott tapped a thousand-dollar chip on the table. One tap per second. This time, he continued past forty. I looked up, searching for a sign. A reason for him straying from his pattern of behavior.
“You think you’ve got what it takes?”
I refused to flinch under his gaze. We’d both bluffed our way through the night. What was one more hand.
“It doesn’t matter what I’ve got, I walked in with nothing and I’ll walk out the same.”
“You could walk out of here with over $1 million in cash, that’s if you’ve got what it takes to beat me.”
“Even if I did, I’d still be walking out with nothing.”
As minutes passed, the dealer tried to force Scott into making a decision. Still, we didn’t break our stare—oblivious to the impatient calls from the crowd.
I didn’t even realize how hard I’d been tapping my fresh glass of soda until I missed the table; sending water, ice and broken glass across the floor. Mortified, when I looked up to offer Scott an apology, instead of scorn, I got a smile. A thousand watt, take me in his arms and love me forever kind of smile.
“What do you want me to do?”
He might have been asking what I wanted for dinner—as if we were alone in the room, or the world.
I dropped all pretense. Losing my poker face and no longer hiding my shaking hands. My ultimate gamble would be the truth.
“Whatever makes you happy, that’s all I’ve only ever wanted.”
While the wait staff fussed around broken glass and our audience became distracted by an argument at the little table on the far end of the room, Scott said loud enough for only the dealer and I to hear, “I fold.”
Throwing a large chip to the dealer as a tip and handing others to the bar staff, Scott gathered his remaining chips while I sat back, in shock. With a wink, Scott skidded his cards across, showing off the pair of Aces which would have beaten my nothing cards. Scott had handed over half the table’s winnings without trying.
“Are you ready to cash in your chips and go away with me?” Again, only for my ears and the dealer’s.
Shit.
Loving Scott wasn’t the question.
Getting out of here—the biggest gamble of the night.
Biting my bottom lip, I looked towards Basilio who was still distracted. There might be enough time to get out of here before he noticed? Possibly. Maybe.
What have you got to lose?
I quickly handed the dealer my chips, offering a large tip for a speedy bank transfer. By the time Basilio arrived back at our table, my money had been transferred and Scott’s transaction was almost finalized.
“It seems I missed the most exciting part of the evening.” Basilio was full of his normal charm. “Who should I congratulate on walking away the winner on this fine evening?”
Moment of truth, I hoped the words would come naturally—
“Thanks for the game.” Scott quickly cut in, grabbing Basilio’s hand in a firm shake before I could do or say anything. “I’d love to stay and teach the lovely GG a lesson in hiding her tells, but with everything else that has been going on in my life I’m afraid I’ve lost the taste for the table. Thank you again for your hospitality, but I’m afraid I need to cut my visit to Melbourne short.”
As I knew he would, Basilio dismissed Scott as an gambling loser, turning the full voltage of Calibri charm in my direction. “Please tell me that you’re not leaving me too?”
“The only reason I went all in, is because I want this nightmare to end.”
I was exhausted from the lies and hiding. Honesty had worked at the table. Perhaps, Basilio still cared enough to let me walk away. “I’ve lost my career, my marriage, and now I’ve lost my anonymity. Scott wasn’t expected to fold, I wanted him to wipe me out, so I’d have nothing.”
Despite my body leaning towards Scott, Basilio grabbed my arm, trying to pull me to his chest. “Cara, you’ll never have nothing while I’m here to look after you.”
Oh no!
I wriggled and pushed back with open palms to his chest.
I finally understood. This had been his game all along.
Basilio wanted me trapped back within his circle again. Flashes from the end of my marriage—Basilio had always been hovering—encouraging Matt’s greatest gambling demons.
“Bass,” I turned, putting my body between the two men. Invoking the name Basilio had only allowed me to use. Our name. He’d called m
e Cara with a soft C. I’d called him Bass.
His eyes immediately softened, and grip loosened. I truly understood. Whether Scott and I had a future or not, we’d never be safe unless Basilio let me go. Preferably with love, but he had to make the decision to let me go.
“Bass, you’re still one of the sexiest, charismatic men I’ve ever met, or loved.”
Past tense. Yes, I’d loved him but not as much as Matt. Not even a fraction of what I felt for Scott. Still, I forced a smile, “When I was with you, I felt we were invincible—but none of it was real.”
“Cara, Cara—”
“No, please, Bass. I tried so hard to be what you and your family wanted.”
“They’ll come around.”
“You shouldn’t lose your family’s respect because of me. Trying to be your Italian princess was killing everything about me that you said you loved. It wasn’t healthy for either of us.”
His rules and possessiveness had almost crushed my spirit. We’d fought constantly, to his embarrassment and shame. His family expected him to be able to control me.
He couldn’t. Most of the time, he didn’t even try. But he lived under the weight of his family’s expectations, a greater burden than love could ever be.
“It could have been, if you’d given us a second chance.”
One last play. Roll of the dice, turn of the cards.
“I never loved you the way you deserved.” If Basilio could be the one to make the decision, if he could be the one to walk away—Scott would be safe.
“Admit it, you never loved me at all.”
“I tried. Back in the day, I tried to be what you needed but I was never good enough for you and I never loved you as much as you deserved.”
“That asshole was never good enough for you.”
Reminding Basilio how he’d manipulated Matt’s gambling wouldn’t help Scott. I needed to let Bass vilify Matt now to keep Scott safe.
“You helped me see that and I can’t thank you enough,” I lied. “I never expected you’d ever reach out as friends; or welcome me to your table.”
“I told you, you’ll always have a place by my side.”
Reckless Gamble: a billionaire high stakes suspense romance (City Sinners Book 4) Page 27