by Ana Sparks
I turn to face Lauren once more. “Do you know anything about poker?”
Her musical laugh fills my ears. “I know that you play it with cards. Beyond that…no.”
“Would you like to learn?”
She eyes me suspiciously, although I suspect it’s just a ruse. This woman is as interested in me as I am in her. I can see it in her eyes.
“You’re offering to teach me?”
“I’m a good teacher.”
She presses her lips together in a cute attempt to stop a smile. “How do I know that?”
The bartender sets our drinks down in front of us. I raise mine for a toast.
“I wish I could say, ‘Do I look like the kind of guy you can trust?’, but I’m well aware that I don’t.”
Lauren laughs again and raises her drink. “You don’t look so bad to me.”
“Fair enough, and thank you. I should probably tell you, right up front, that I’m no saint, though.”
“I don’t mind.”
She clinks her glass against mine so hard that my fingers vibrate.
As I sip my drink, I take a second to look her up and down, realizing how incredible her body is. Hot desire swells in my gut, and I take in a sharp breath to quell it. Either this woman is going to be the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, or she’s going to be my total undoing.
Here’s hoping she’s the former.
I take a hearty sip of the whiskey drink and enjoy the sting of it against my tongue. It’s decent, but I’ve had better elsewhere in my travels.
“Ready?” I ask Lauren.
She nods. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I offer her my arm. “Right this way.”
She delicately wraps her hand around my forearm. In heels, the top of her head comes just to the bottom of my chin. She’s the perfect height for dancing and for laying her cheek on my shoulder.
We take our drinks and make our way through the casino. It’s become more alive in just the fifteen-or-so minutes since I’ve met Lauren. Though I know the place well, each time I visit, it’s different. The people make the environment and ambiance change each and every night. It’s the gamblers who give the venue life, imbuing the walls with their passion and rollercoaster of feelings of excitement and disappointment.
“The poker tables are right over here,” I say, using steering Lauren in the right direction as an excuse to place my hand on her lower back.
Trepidation passes across her face as we close in on a table. “I have no clue what to do,” she whispers frantically at me. “Remember?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
I give a curt nod to the dealer—one who has worked here for years and knows me well—then pull a chair out for Lauren. It’s a round with no real bets, which means that most of the other players at the table are amateurs, just like her.
Taking my own chair, I push it in close to hers. The heat of her body burns through her dress and presses against my leg. For the second time in one night, I have to take a deep breath in order to get a hold of myself. This evening, when I got to the casino, playing a few games and warming up was the only thing on my mind. Now, I can’t stop thinking about the beautiful woman sitting right next to me, and the things I’d like to do to her on the poker table.
The cards are dealt, and I stay close to Lauren, guiding her through each hand. The other players aren’t annoyed by my presence; they’re all tourists, not serious players. One woman is even wearing a T-shirt from an amusement park in Florida. They’re not here to win. They’re here to ride the gondolas and take some pictures so they can brag to their coworkers.
“This is awesome,” Lauren whispers, turning her face to me. Her breath hits my cheek. Strawberries and cotton candy. That’s what she smells like. I bet she tastes like them, too.
The game ends with Lauren winning, and she shrieks with joy, throwing her arms around me. Most of the other players get up and wander off, ready for the next excitement. A figure enters the corner of my eye and takes a seat two chairs down from Lauren.
I instantly freeze up. If I were a dog, the hairs on my back would be standing straight on end, cartoon-like.
Maxime Petit smiles knowingly at me, all-too-aware of the effect his sudden appearance has had on me. He’s more tanned than he was the last time I saw him, but still wearing the tasteless, chunky gold jewelry that make him look like some kind of wannabe pimp. Add that to the white suit, and he might as well have a flashing neon sign over his head saying, ‘Warning: Pompous Ass.’
“Hello Jay,” he rumbles in his thick Belgian accent.
I’m not wasting my time playing mind games—which is what Maxime is saying hello to me for. “I don’t think this is the table you’re looking for, Petit.”
His eyes slide over to Lauren. “Oh, it’s definitely the table I was looking for.”
Fury flashes through me and my hands curl into fists. “There’s nothing here to win.”
“Are you sure about that?” he briefly addresses me before turning his attention back to Lauren. “Are you with him?”
Petit makes ‘him’ sound like a curse word.
Lauren glances over at me. “Yes, I am, actually,” she responds with some hesitation.
Petit’s upper lip curls. “Surely, you haven’t known him for very long.”
“We just met,” she responds coolly.
“Ah. So that explains it.”
I open my mouth, ready to tell him to fuck off, but Lauren speaks before I get the chance.
“Excuse me? And do I know you?”
He lifts his goateed chin. “Do you want to?”
“Based on the little you’ve said since sitting down, no. I don’t think I do.”
I smirk at her response. Lauren has more fire in her than I expected.
Petit remains unfazed. “I’m in,” he tells the dealer.
The cards fly across the green surface. Lauren picks hers up and quickly gauges the hand. She seems to already be comfortable with everything I taught her, and even eager to play another game. I keep my jaw clenched and my eyes anywhere but on Petit.
It’s been months since we last saw each other, but we’ve never seen eye to eye on anything, and our interactions have only become more painful since I beat his ass last year. The best word to describe Petit would be ‘infamous’; once you cross his path, you don’t forget him—especially with his bad attitude and reputation as a sore loser. I wasn’t there to see it, but a story made the rounds that he smashed the poker table at the Bellagio when he couldn’t handle losing the international championship.
Swallowing my loathing for the man lounging only a few seats away, I turn my attention back to Lauren. I’m going to make this night about her.
“Save the Queen,” I whisper into her ear.
She gives me a little hum of acknowledgment and desire blasts through me once again. Is there anything this woman can do that’s not sexy?
Across the table, Petit chuckles. “Are you sure you chose the right teacher? Wouldn’t you like to be taught to play by someone with a little more class?”
I bite down on my tongue. If I say one thing back, I’m going to blow up. With my anger unleashed even the smallest bit, I won’t be able to control it, and as much as I’d like to beat Maxime Petit into a pulp, this is neither the time nor place.
Lauren’s voice is cold. “Thanks, but I’ll only be playing with one man tonight.”
I don’t know if she meant for the statement to come out like that, but my body responds in a primal way to the words. Heat sizzles under my skin, and my dick twitches in my pants.
Petit’s face turns red, and even the fake tan can’t hide it. He tosses his cards onto the table in a dramatic display.
“I should have known any woman on Hammond’s arm would have as little class as him.”
He stands and practically knocks his chair out of the way as he leaves the table. It’s tempting to watch him stalk off, cradling his bruised ego, but instead
, I turn my eyes to Lauren.
“Bravo,” I commend her.
She shyly ducks her chin. “He was being a jerk.”
“He’s always a jerk,” I mutter.
The other players seem to have taken Petit’s explosion as a sign that the game was done. With everyone dispersing, I take Lauren gently by the arm.
“Let’s go do something else.”
She turns her heart-shaped face up toward me. “Like what?”
“Right now?” I give it some thought. “I can think of a hundred other things I’d like to do with you.”
Chapter Four
Lauren
“So, what was all of that about?”
Jay cocks his head at me as we walk out of the gaming room and into one of the long corridors. “Petit, you mean?” he asks, almost spitting the name.
“You two have some kind of bad blood between you, don’t you?”
Jay laughs, shrugging off something that may have been more serious than he was letting on. “That asshole is always like that.”
“Are you sure? It seemed like he has something against you.”
As the words leave my lips, I’m wondering if I should even be saying them. Jay and I have known each other for about an hour—maybe not even as long as that. His personal affairs are none of my business. It doesn’t matter that I’m dying to know every single thing there is to know about him.
The hot guy walking next to me doesn’t seem put off by my probing, though.
“Maxime Petit doesn’t like a lot of things. He doesn’t like competition, and he doesn’t like anyone who’s not elite. But who the hell is really elite, anymore?”
“Competition? Sorry…I don’t understand. For what?”
For me?
My pulse quickens at the thought of Jay wanting to compete with another guy for my attentions.
“I told you I’m a gambler, right?”
“Yes.”
Jay gives me a blank look, as if he’s waiting for me to come to some sort of realization. We’re still walking down the corridor, with what looks like another huge gaming room looming up ahead.
“That’s what I do,” Jay simply says. “It’s my job.”
“Wait. You play card games for a living?”
He chuckles. “That’s right.”
My head spins as I try to make sense of this news. “But it’s all luck…isn’t it?”
“A lot of it, yeah. Not all of it.”
“How good are you?”
Jay stops and looks at me. “Pretty good.”
I stop walking as well, and start putting it all together. As I look around the casino that’s larger than anything I’ve ever seen in my life, and I think about what Jay told me about Maxime Petit, and about how sure he was while instructing me at poker, it all begins to make sense.
“Wow,” I breathe. “So you weren’t kidding when you said that you make a living as a gambler.”
“I thought you believed me.”
“I did, but honestly, I thought you meant that you scrape by. You know, kind of like, gambling and waiting tables or whatever….” I trail off, then quickly add, “Not that there’s anything wrong with waiting tables!”
“We need waiters,” he solemnly says, a smile sneaking across his lips.
I start walking again, but more slowly this time. There’s still so much more to think about.
“I don’t think you answered my question. Why does that Petit guy not like you? You said something about the ‘elite.’”
Jay falls into an easy step beside me, his hands in his pockets. “Right. Petit is from money—lots of old family money, to be specific. He thinks that the big games should only be played by people from his social class.”
“And you’re not from that…class.”
“Nope. Born and raised on the rough side of Detroit.”
“That’s a crazy idea. I mean, about only the elite gambling.”
“I couldn’t agree more. You really showed him, though.”
An appreciative smile spreads across his face and my chest grows warmer. I’m suddenly so self-conscious, I have to look away. While telling off Petit, I wasn’t trying to flirt with Jay. I just wanted the annoying, disrespectful man to leave.
But now, Jay is all I can think about.
“There’s a pretty big game tomorrow,” he hedges.
“How big?”
“Maybe the biggest of my career so far.” Jay’s jaw tenses and he stares off into space.
I gasp and stop walking once more. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
He nods. I don’t need another hint. My time at the casino has been amazing, but it’s obviously time to take my leave.
“I should go. I should let you prepare.”
Jay’s eyes go wild. “No! Don’t.” He steps forward, his hand touching my elbow. His touch is white-hot, melding me to him. I couldn’t move an inch if I tried. “I’m ready for it,” he softly says, the words making the skin on the back of my neck tingle. “Stay. Enjoy the night with me.”
I nod dumbly, nothing but putty in this guy’s hands.
I’m still feeling as if I’m floating on air as Jay leads me into another room, where we take a seat at a baccarat table. Several people seem to know who Jay is, putting their heads together and whispering while they throw glances his way.
In awe, I watch as Jaw wins one game, and then another…and a third.
I could watch him all night, just riding the high of the anticipation. There’s something so enthralling about watching him play the game and knowing he’s probably going to win, but always knowing that at any second, he could lose it all. The thrill of it sends a rush of adrenaline through my veins.
“You’re done?” I laugh when Jay suddenly stands up from the table.
His eyes soften. “I have a guest tonight.”
I grin at him as we go to get more drinks. My toes are aching in my heels, but I couldn’t care less. I’m in a dream, lost in an exotic world where no one knows my name or story—no one but the captivating man next to me.
“You are really good at this. I see why it’s your job, now,” I tell him.
“Thanks. Your sketches were really good. I can see why you want that to be your job,” Jay says as we come into an area where the mock Venetian canal reappears.
He watches me intently, as if he’s certain I’m not going to believe him, and he has to do everything in his power to make me see the truth.
“Thanks. I think they are, too. I want to illustrate children’s books…and I’m going to do it. I am. I just wish my parents believed in me more, you know?”
He solemnly nods. “It sounds like they’re just trying to protect you, because they love you.”
“Yeah,” I slowly agree, not happy that he’s taking their side.
We get to the bar, and Jay gets us another round. After paying, he turns back to me, a look of passion in his eyes.
“Look—here’s what I see. Standing in front of me is a beautiful, smart, and confident woman…”
I try not to melt into a puddle, and push at the ice in my cocktail with the small black straw.
Jay continues. “Obviously, your parents did something right. Not to mention, they brought you on this trip. They love you.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “They do.”
A gondola bobs past us, its benches packed with a family chattering away in what I think is Italian.
“What do your parents think of your lifestyle?” I ask. “Gambling and all. Are they supportive of it?”
“I wouldn’t know. I grew up in foster care. I never knew my parents.”
“I’m sorry,” I breathe. Sharing this news doesn’t seem to bother him at all, though. He just nods and continues.
“It made me what I am today.”
“How so?”
“That cheesy saying, ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’, really is true.”
My stomach clenches. “So the homes you were in…they weren’t good ones?”
He folds his muscular arms, leans against a pillar, and gives my question some thought. “They weren’t that bad. Granted, they weren’t the best. But it’s really the choices that I made for myself after I left that weren’t good for me.”
I’m captivated, hanging on his every word. Jay catches my eye and gives me that slight half-smile of his that I’ve already fallen in love with.
“I got involved with a gang after high school. Neighborhood I lived in, it was kind of hard to avoid them. Gangs could give you protection the police couldn’t. They could make sure that the people you cared about were safe, that you always had a way to make money…albeit in not exactly…legal ways.”
“So, you were in a gang?”
“Kind of. It’s more like, I did some indirect work for this group. I bought and sold guns and…other things.”
My eyes flick down to the tattoos I can see on his wrists, under his shirtsleeves. This guy isn’t like the wannabe bad-boys I grew up with, the ones who crashed their sports cars and hired prostitutes with their trust fund money. Jay is the real deal.
“It all went pretty well for a few years,” he says. “Until some guys that I thought I could trust ratted me out, and I went to jail.”
“Why would they do that?”
“That’s the business. You can’t trust anyone.” He laughs. “It’s good. Going to jail was the best thing that ever happened to me. It showed me what a dumb kid I was being. Also, it introduced me to poker.” He grins, a wild gleam in his eye. “And poker is what I’m really good at.”
Shivers ripple through me. “I’ve noticed. So then what happened?”
“I served my three-year sentence. Got out and started gambling. That was about six years ago.”
“And now, here you are.”
He nods. “And now, here I am.”
I bite my lower lip and mull over everything he’s just told me. Jay’s experiences in Detroit were a world away from my upper-class ones in Manhattan. In high school, I was vacationing in the Hamptons and playing on the tennis team at a private school. Plus, I had two loving parents. Jay’s life couldn’t have been more different from mine.
He suddenly straightens up from the pillar. “Let’s go for a ride.”