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“Hit,” he tells Katerina with the appropriate hand gesture, and she deals him a card.
“Bust,” she informs him.
“My favorite dealer, how could you?” he says dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.
Katerina ignores his theatrics, turning over her hidden card. “Twenty. Dealer wins.”
She rakes in the house winnings, and I wait to see if this man takes a hint and cashes out. He doesn’t, sliding his next wager into the betting circle.
Kat
I’m not sure why Fabio and one of my regulars are locked into a death match, but if they want to go broke, it’s their business.
Pretending I didn’t masturbate last night with Fabio watching—it seemed like a good idea at the time—I try to keep things as professional as possible. “Bust,” I tell my regular when I deal him his card.
His playful facade cracks. “I did not hit. That was your bust card!” he shouts.
“Sir, you indicated hit,” I tell him calmly. He’s like a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde player—easygoing until he gets on a losing streak, and then he becomes a belligerent ass.
“That was a finger twitch, not a hit signal,” he bellows, slamming down his fist.
“If we need to get the pit boss involved and review the footage, then so be it,” I tell him firmly, having dealt with his tantrums before.
“Bitch.” He curses at me before pushing away from the table and storming off.
“Interesting show,” Fabio comments.
“He isn’t the most gracious of losers,” I say diplomatically.
Fabio leans across the table. “I meant last night’s show.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t you have a bed warmer you need to chase after?”
There’s a tap on my shoulder, and my replacement appears beside me. Clearing my hands for the eye in the sky, I tell Fabio curtly, “Enjoy your evening.” With your date, who I might throat punch if she ever returns to my table.
Fabio
I follow the ungracious loser to the parking lot. There are security cameras everywhere, but I’m not concerned; the head of The Diamond security is on my payroll.
“Hold up,” I call. The man turns around, and I grab his right hand, pulling his index finger back in an unnatural position until there’s a satisfying pop.
“Stop!” he squeals.
“There we go. Fixed that twitchy finger. Don’t ever take a seat at Katerina’s table again. I catch wind you have, and next time I’ll cut off all your fingers. Let’s see how well you can hold cards without them. Now get the fuck out of my sight.” I release my hold, and he scurries away with his dislocated finger hanging like a limp noodle.
I run my hand over my face with a frustrated growl. So much for me getting under Katerina’s skin.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Kat
Fabio thinks he’s going to flaunt his women in my face? Two can play at this game.
Arriving at his restaurant with my date, we enter the lobby and approach the hostess booth. “Reservation should be under Katerina Stefanos.” Wanted to make sure the boss man knew I’d be in his house tonight.
“Right this way, please.”
