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ChapterNine
RAVEN
The casino is busierthan usual tonight, which is how I like it. Lots of money on the floor means plenty of action and good tips for everyone. Tonight, I’m at the blackjack table; minimum buy in is a thousand pounds.
It’s not as high as some of the private tables tucked away at the far end of the casino, hidden behind curtains and velvet ropes, but I keep the cards flying and the money flows in steadily. Whenever the casino wins big (so far it has only happened once when an Arab Prince lost over five million one Tuesday afternoon) we get champagne and chocolates sent to the breakroom.
Six hours into my shift one of the club’s regulars, a genteel South American gentleman, throws in the towel. He fishes a twenty chip from his jacket pocket, flips it to me, and rises from his seat. I let my lips curve into a friendly smile. The best croupiers are entertainers. You smile even when a bad loser calls you and your mother a whore. I’ve learned that word in so many languages I could start a dictionary. He tips his hat in an old-fashioned way and turns away and … suddenly … I’m staring Konstantin in theface.
My smile freezes as he slides into the newly vacated seat and sets down a stack of £5000.00 chips. They represent more money than I can make in three years, hefty tips included. Croupiers learn very quickly to think of them as bits of plastic. Sometimes when I used to see someone come in and lose hundreds of thousands of pounds at the role of a dice it actually hurt my soul. I couldn’t help thinking, I could have bought a house with that money. In the beginning, I even used to think, for God’s sake, don’t place that bet. Give me the money! I won’t wasteit.
Konstantin hunches onto the table and stares up at me with those deep-set smoldering eyes. In the bright, glitzy lights of the casino his hair gleams like gold and his rugged good looks seem even more potent—the strong, cleanly shaven jaw, the sensual mouth lifted into a chilly smile. He’s dressed beautifully in a dark suit and tie, as if he has somewhere important to go as soon as he is donehere.
Did he come to this casino just to seeme?
God, I hopeso.
He lifts a glass of scotch to his lips. The casino is air-conditioned, but I feel hot. As if it is fire and not blood flowing in my veins. I break eye contact in the hope it’ll help me regain my equilibrium, but I can feel his gaze like a scorching touch.
“Bets, gentlemen,” I call, but instead of a crisp, professional invitation to play, my voice sounds cracked and scratchy.
I clear my throat and reach for a fresh deck of cards. There are hundreds of smoky eye cameras on the ceiling watching me as I start to strip the deck. To my horror my butterfingers nearly drops them. My cheeks burn as I spread the cards out on the table so the punters can see them. I sneak another glance at him, and I regret it immediately.
He is staring at me with unreadable eyes and a cold, mocking smile is playing on his lips. An image of him disarming my three assailants without batting an eye, or breaking into a sweat, flashes into my mind. Who is he, really? Why is everything so electric around him? The sizzling charge in the air makes it difficult for me to breathe. I look at those long powerful fingers, the nails impeccably manicured, and think of them resting gently on my arm. His strong pulse beating against myskin.
The thought makes me shiver, not in a badway.
I deal the cards, but can’t get my fingers to work with their usual nimble elegance. The other players don’t really notice, but Konstantin keeps his dark eyes trained on my every move and I find I can barely function in the spotlight of his constant attention. To top it all the musky smell of his damned cologne keeps me off balance.
Unable to keep it together, I start making ditsy little mistakes—fumbling while dealing, dropping chips, miscounting. By the time I catch the eye of the pit boss, Konstantin is up several thousand pounds. I’m fully off my game and desperate for rescue.
Out of nowhere Cindy comes over to relieve me. She can see how frazzled I am, but there is a smooth smile on her face. I keep my gaze pointedly away from Konstantin, but I swear his body has its own gravitational pull. I have to fight the desire not to look athim.
“Are you okay?” Cindy whispers, her eyebrows drawn together as we exchange places.
“That’s him,” I say, barely above a murmur—the last thing I want is for him to overhear me—and her eyes widen with interest.
“Well, well,” she says with agrin.
I don’t hang around to find out what happens next. I just grab my shit and hurry off to finish the rest of my shift somewhereelse.
An hour later, Cindy comes to findme.
“Your boyfriend was on a roll tonight.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say dryly.
“The way he was looking at you? I’m surprised your clothes didn’t melt off. I know you said he was hot, but bloody hell, Raven. The guy should be an underwear model.”
“He is gorgeous, isn’t he?” I say wistfully.
“Fuck, is he? Talk about power cocks. He never stopped winning. He took us for about £150,000.00.”
My eyes widen. “Hedid?”
“Yeah, hedid,”
“So … he’s gone?” I plaster a smile on my face even though I’m horribly disappointed. He didn’t come for me afterall.
“Yes, he left before I could get his number for you though.”
I smile at her antics. Actually, I’m surprised she didn’t get his number. Not many men can resist Cindy’s charm.
“Thanks, but I kind of got the feeling if he wanted me to have his number, I’d have it bynow.”
“Maybe he’s one of those guys who likes to play games,” she speculates.
“Oh well, good luck to him, I’m done for the night. I’ll see you athome?”
“See you at breakfast tomorrow.”
Cindy is working the night shift so she won’t be in until about seven in the morning. Usually, she makes herself a cup of tea and has breakfast with us, and if the weather is good she’ll sunbathe in the garden for a couple of hours.
“I’m making pancakes,” Isay.
She nods. “Soundsgood.”
I change into my street clothes, grab my purse, and leave the staff area. There is an exit that leads right onto a back street and it is actually closer to my bus stop, but I don’t take it. I used it every evening at the end of my shift—it saved me walking through the casino and lobby—but after what happened a few weeks ago, I refuse to chance it anymore. Especially, after what happened to me last night.
I go out through the front, sticking to the edge of the room. I go past the winking and bleeping slot machines, and the vast plasma screens, the deep leather sofas, and the glitzy Italian bar. I wave to the bartender, but my eyes linger on the red baize gaming tables. Cindy said Konstantin left, but what if he is still lurking somewhere close by, his lean, powerful body leaning forward, a tumbler of scotch in one hand? As I get to the lobby, I realize I was holding my breath. I let it out in a rush and shoot Bertha atext.
All well with the midget?
I step outside into the warm summer night as her answer pings.
All quiet here. The little miss lost her second tooth and went to bed at9.
Still smilingat the thought of Janna’s lost tooth, I glance up from my phone and come to an abrupt stop. Konstantin is at the far end of the enormous portico outside of the double entrance doors to the hotel casino. He is leaning casually against the side of his ink black Lamborghini and is obviously waiting forme!
He is dangerous to my peace of mind. I think I know that he could break my heart because there’s a split second where my mind considers the cowardly option of taking off in the opposite direction, but the pulse of exhilaration tightening my chest wins out. I was hoping to find him outhere.
This man intriguesme.
It’s not just his looks, which are incredibly impressive, but the mystery that surrounds him, the way he disturbs the atmospheric pressure in the room. I know in my heart that he was only at that party last night because I was. He followed me outside. Why? What does a man like him want with me? I’ll never know unless I get closer. And I definitely want to get closer. He’s a puzzle I’m desperate to solve.
I thread through the maze of idling cars in the portico and bellhops loading suitcases onto golden luggage carts. Konstantin doesn’t move, just watches me approach with those dark eyes that are going to slowly drive me insane. He straightens to his full height when I stop less than a foot away fromhim.
I’ve never felt so tongue tied in all my life as I am in this man’s presence. He’s most definitely stalking me—I feel an intense thrill at the thought. I just want to bury my face in the muscular curve of his neck, to breathe in that lush, virile scent, to be overwhelmed byit.
“Are you hungry?” he asks and the electricity is back, a charge running through the air that tickles the hair on my arms and infuses me with energy.
“Yes,” Isay.
“I know a place,” he says, and steps back to pull open the door of his ridiculously expensive car. The luxurious interior of the car calls to me. I don’t even weigh the pros and cons, the dangers and benefits, before I slide into it. I run my fingers over the soft leather interior as he strides around the back of the car and gets into the driver’sside.
He turns to look at me with a lop-sided smile. “Ready?”
I nod and the car roars to life, the rumble shaking my bones and chattering the teeth in my head. That together with the overwhelming smell of Konstantin, the proximity of his hand as he pops the car into gear, makes my jaw clench.
