“Nein,” he says, shaking his head. “I have to win my money back first!”
“Just leave while you still have some money left.”
“You think you can beat me?” He stares at her with bloodshot eyes. “No dumb bitch ever beats me. Never!” He snarls something at her in German, probably calling her a bitch again.
She glances around at the other guys at the table. Two of them shake their heads, but nobody says anything, and they all keep playing. At least the casino has stopped serving him liquor.
Eventually, Cockroach Breath loses it all and throws his cards aside angrily. He tells everyone to go to hell then stands, swaying a little on his feet.
Lindsay, who still feels sorry for him, grabs a couple hundred euros’ worth of chips from her stack and tries to hand them over to him.
“Here, take these. Then find a cab out front and go home.”
“Fuck you! You think I want your money? Keep it, you stupid whore!” He shoves her hand away.
She tries to hand the chips to him again. “Take them, you dumb ass!”
Finally, he grabs them from her and staggers off. Instead of leaving, though, she watches him go right up to another poker game.
“Forget him. He is a lost cause,” some guy with a Russian accent says beside her.
She turns and discovers somebody new has already taken the place on her right. A muscular guy with short dark hair. He studies her with black eyes and an interested smile.
She stays to play another hand. The guy on her right keeps asking her questions about herself in a thick Russian accent, trying to make eye contact, but she only answers them politely. The vibe coming off him is unsettling.
Just as she decides to make this her last hand, she senses someone behind her shoulder, surprised to discover Giovanni.
“I thought you left.”
“No.” He leans in close and puts his mouth to her ear. “But you’re leaving.”
She turns to look at him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said.” His face moves close to hers. “You’re finished here. I want you to fold.”
“I don’t take orders from you!”
“Tonight, you do.”
She ignores him and lets her breath out in a huff. Who the hell does he think he is?
“I mean it, Lindsay. I’m going to stand here until you leave with me.”
She glances at her cards. Obviously, she was already planning to make this her last hand, but is so annoyed she’s tempted to stay.
The Russian guy, who’s been coming on to her, glances at Giovanni, then leans in. “Is all okay?”
“It’s fine.”
He nods slowly.
Her eyes flash down to the guy’s hands for some reason. His left is resting on the table, and he has some kind of elaborate black Cyrillic tattoo webbed on all his fingers. She’s had a lot of boyfriends with tattoos, and has some ink herself, but has never seen anything quite like this guy’s.
The dealer lays the flop, and Lindsay calls. After the turn, she’s in line for a ten-high straight and doubts anyone else will beat it. She considers raising. She already has four hundred in, but then Giovanni’s mouth is at her ear again. “I want you to end this now.”
She grinds her teeth. When it’s her turn, she hesitates, but does what he tells her and folds. For a split second, the Russian seems surprised but quickly hides it, and she realizes he’s a skilled card player.
She announces she’s calling it a night. All the men at the table watch her as she gathers her pile of chips together, tossing the dealer a generous tip.
Giovanni follows her over to the cage so she can cash everything in.
“I hope you’re happy,” she mutters. “I don’t know why I listened to you.”
He doesn’t reply, just watches the pile of bills being counted out to her.
“I would have won that hand. You just cost me a lot of money.”
“Stop complaining. I did you a favor.”
She scoffs. “How?”
But he only shakes his head and scowls. “Let’s get out of here. This place is giving me a headache.”
Lindsay’s not sure why she’s going anywhere with him, but she follows him out to the front. On the way, she sees Dagmar and her boyfriend, Werner.
“I’m going to tell Dagmar I’m leaving.”
They go over to where the couple is standing at a table with drinks in front of them.
Dagmar grins when she sees them. “How did you do?” She reaches for Lindsay’s arm to draw her in closer, then whispers in her ear, “And I see the doctor is still here.”
“I did okay tonight.”
“It looked like you were winning a lot! That is so great. You will for sure have enough money saved before you leave.” Dagmar knows all about her plans to go back to school in the fall.
“What is all this?” Werner asks politely.
Dagmar turns to him and speaks in German, telling him about Lindsay’s productive night.
“Good for you,” he says. “You must have a large bankroll now.”
Lindsay doesn’t say anything. Werner is not her favorite person.
“Oops, I have to go.” Dagmar is staring down at her phone. “My tournament is starting in a few minutes.” She’s only been playing poker about a year, but in the same way she’s helped Lindsay navigate her way around Berlin, Lindsay has been helping her improve her game. Dagmar comes from a wealthy family though and plays poker mostly for fun. She leans in to kiss Werner good-bye and then turns back to Lindsay. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can go over our hands.”
“Sounds good. I should get going now too.”
“No! You and the doctor must stay and have a drink with Werner,” Dagmar says. “Get to know each other better.”
Once she’s gone, Lindsay already sees the shift in Werner, who always acts like a gentleman in front of Dagmar, but is actually a total sleaze. She knows he’s using Dagmar but is unable to convince her friend otherwise. For the life of her, Lindsay can’t figure out what she sees in him to begin with since he literally looks like a rat. He’s perpetually pale and sweaty, and has this strange haircut that’s long and thin in back, yet short and spiky on top. Plus, he wears dark eyeliner, which he apparently thinks makes him look tough.
“So how much money did you earn tonight?” Werner asks, picking up his drink as his rat eyes flicker over her.
“Like I said, I did all right.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
He smirks. “Don’t be shy. You can tell me. We are all friends here. Is it more than you would earn out in the back alley giving blow jobs?”
She feels Giovanni stiffen beside her and wishes she had a drink she could throw at Werner. “Fuck off.”
He laughs as if this is the funniest joke in the world. “Something tells me you would make more money with the blow jobs!”
“You’re a disgusting maggot.”
“Hey, I’ll be your first customer!”
Suddenly, Giovanni slams his fist onto the table, startling her, and making Werner jump. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”
The rat blinks but doesn’t say anything as he stares at Giovanni with wide eyes.
“I’m not going to listen to you speak to her that way. You need to apologize!”
Lindsay’s brows go up, and she enjoys watching the rat squirm with distress. His eyes flash over to her. He hesitates, but then finally says, “I am sorry if I offended you.”
“You’re goddamn right it’s offensive,” Giovanni growls. “And it better not happen again.” He turns to Lindsay. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of this place.”
They exit the casino into the warm night. Like always, there’s a long row of shiny Mercedes taxicabs lined up in front. Unlike a typical cab back in the States, the ones in Berlin are clean and comfortable inside.
She follows Giovanni to a brown Mercedes still thinking about the way he ripped into Werner. What a wonderful di
splay. The driver holds the door open for them so they can both climb into the back. Lindsay figures they’ll drop her off first, but when the driver asks where they’re going, Giovanni tells him, “The Regent.”
“What? I appreciate what you did back there, but I’m not going to your hotel with you.”
“Yes, you are.” He leans back in the seat as the cab starts moving and closes his eyes for a moment. “And don’t bother arguing. I don’t want to listen to it right now.”
She bites her lip. She still has to make sure he doesn’t tell Anthony about her playing poker tonight. “Listen, how often do you talk to your brother?”
“You need to get some new friends,” he says, ignoring her question. “That guy is a serious douche bag.”
“Are you kidding? That piece of rat shit isn’t my friend!”
“Not to mention the other one I had to punch earlier. Who the hell are these strange people you’ve hooked up with?”
She gives a laugh. “A better question might be who the hell are you? And what are you doing here?”
Of course he doesn’t answer her.
They’re sitting close to each other in the back of the cab, but she’s careful not to let any part of her body touch his. It’s not easy either. To her annoyance, her physical attraction to him is so strong it’s like fighting gravity.
The car radio plays bouncy Europop as they continue to drive through the city. The driver is talking to someone in German using the cab’s Bluetooth.
Her eyes go back to Giovanni. “You know, in this light, you almost look Italian.”
“I appreciate that.” He seems mildly amused, but when he turns to her, his expression changes. “You’re beautiful,” he says, studying her. “And it’s not just the light.”
“Thanks,” she murmurs but doesn’t say anything more, just turns to watch the traffic outside.
“Why is it every time I tell you you’re beautiful, you act insulted?”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m not insulted.”
He considers her, nodding slowly. “I get it now. You must hear it a lot.”
“I suppose.” She shrugs. It’s not even vanity. The fact is most guys find her attractive. It’s always been like this. Men focus on her appearance, and nothing more.
“Get over yourself, Lindsay. You’re not that beautiful.”
“I’m not?”
“Remember who you’re talking to here.” His eyes roam her face, examining her, before he nods. “You could be improved upon.”
She blinks in amazement. “Wow, you’re a serious asshole. And I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s something that can ever be improved upon.”
“Maybe so, but at least I’ve given you a real reason to be insulted.”
She crosses her legs away from him. “If you’re trying to get me into bed again, you’re sure going about it the wrong way. This is like the worst seduction ever.”
He snickers.
“I could write a book about how bad this seduction is.”
“I’m not trying to seduce you. I already told you I didn’t come here to sleep with you again.”
“Then why are you hanging around?”
He doesn’t say anything.
“You came all the way to Berlin to tell me how ugly I am?”
Giovanni gives a weary laugh and rubs his forehead. “God, what am I going to do with you?”
As he’s saying this, the cab slows down and she sees they’re pulling up in front of what must be his hotel. Everything’s lit up, and there are more taxis and people waiting out front. It’s the middle of the night, but Berlin is the city that never sleeps, which suits Lindsay just fine.
The cab driver turns around to tell them the meter amount and Giovanni digs his wallet out.
“I’m going back to my studio now,” she informs him. “I’ll pay my own cab fare.”
He hands the cab driver a credit card. “No, you’re coming inside with me.”
“I don’t think so.” She leans forward. “But the next time you talk to Anthony, would you mind not mentioning this evening to him, or at least not the part where I was playing poker?”
“Why?”
“It would be best all around.”
“We can talk about this more upstairs.” The cab driver hands the card back and Giovanni puts it in his wallet. He opens the car door to get out.
Lindsay doesn’t budge.
He leans in. “Look, if you want me to be an accomplice, I’m going to require an explanation.”
“There’s nothing to explain. And you’re not an accomplice.”
“It certainly sounds like I am. And unless you want me to call Anthony right now, I suggest you get out of this taxi.”
“Come on, Giovanni, don’t be an asshole.”
“I’m already an asshole, remember?”
Giovanni lets his eyes slide down the back of Lindsay’s black jeans, which are currently doing incredible things for her ass. He enjoys women—way more than he should—but has to admit Lindsay is in a class by herself.
“I can’t believe I’m in another swanky hotel with you.” She turns to him in the elevator. “This is too much like the last time we were together.”
“It’s our destiny.”
“Hardly, and I’m not sleeping with you either. I’m only here to talk—that’s it.” Her brown eyes flicker with anger.
He doesn’t blame her for being pissed since he basically strong-armed her into coming inside with him.
I’m handling this all wrong.
Giovanni’s intention was to fly to Berlin and speak to Lindsay, hopefully convince her to go along with his plan—the situation he’s trying to help fix—but so far, he hasn’t had a chance. First, that crazy asshole in front of her building was there picking a fight with him. The next thing he knows they’re at a casino. Absentmindedly, he flexes his left hand, notices a little bruising still. He should have used his right, or better yet, not have hit him at all. That was completely idiotic.
Before he flew out here, Anthony told him Lindsay was an artist, and that her lifestyle was unconventional, but he had no idea it was this severe.
“And you cost me a bunch of money tonight,” she’s still carrying on. “That was no favor you did me. I had four hundred euros in that pot.”
“You’re lucky I intervened.”
“I would have won that hand.”
He shakes his head. “Do you know who that guy was sitting next to you?”
The elevator doors open and he lets Lindsay walk out ahead of him. They head down the hall toward his room, the thick carpet nearly silent beneath their feet.
“Which one?”
“The Russian guy eyeing you like a steak dinner.”
“Are you kidding? That was nothing. I handle guys like that all time.”
They get to his room and he pulls his key card out to open the door. The nightstand lamp is on when they enter, and he sees the maid has turned down the bed. The room smells fresh like some kind of floral-scented cleaner.
Lindsay walks in and looks around with approval. “Dagmar was right. Ooh la la. This is very elegant.”
He doesn’t say anything. He barely even notices the room. It’s just another place to sleep as far as he’s concerned.
Lindsay’s of a different mind as she continues her exploration, taking it all in. His eyes follow her movements. Unfortunately, her body in those jeans is putting too many thoughts in his head, thoughts that shouldn’t be there. As much as she doesn’t believe him, he really didn’t bring her upstairs to try and seduce her.
She goes over to the large window, where the colorful lights of the city twinkle and glimmer outside. “Look at this magnificent view. I hope you’re not taking this for granted.”
He sits down on the bed, amazed he’d forgotten what powerful appeal she had. He remembers it all too well now. They’d met at a party a couple of years ago, right after his brother won a science award. The attraction between them was immediate and white-hot. He too
k her to a hotel downtown where they spent the night together. She was more than he expected in every way—sexy, fun, and beautiful. The elixir that helped bring him back from months of living on adrenaline, chasing away those demons. He’d needed her that night, and she’d been perfect.
He closes his eyes and tries to ground himself, still too keyed up. He hasn’t been sleeping well. The air-conditioned room feels surreal compared to the dry heat of central Africa.
In his mind, he still sees his colleagues back at the small hospital he left behind only a few days ago. The armed guards who drove them there every morning. A civil war raged, but both sides agreed to allow medical workers through unharmed. Unfortunately, the attacks grew closer every day.
It was never easy finding his way back from the constant rush of danger, the intensity of living on the edge.
“Did you notice that guy’s tattoo?” he asks her.
Lindsay turns back toward him from the window, thinking it over. “The one on his hand?”
“They all have that mark. He’s a Russian mercenary—part of a particularly vicious group.”
“I agree he was weird, but it was only a poker game. You don’t think maybe you’re overreacting?”
Images flash in his head of the time he spent in North Africa last year, some of the horrors he saw there. “Those guys don’t care who they harm.” His eyes drill into hers. “They’re paid killers who enjoy it. I’ve seen the damage they do firsthand.”
Lindsay grows quiet.
“I know you think I was being a dick, but I wasn’t. You don’t want to get on the radar of a guy like that, trust me.”
She nods. “Okay, maybe you were right.”
Giovanni lets his breath out, relieved she’s not going to give him a hard time about this anymore. He thinks about that mercenary. Sometimes, the laws that protect people are protecting the wrong ones.
“Are you okay?” She moves closer. “You seem out of sorts.”
“I’m good.”
She points down. “Is it still bothering you?”
He glances at his left hand. “Not really.”
Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) Page 4