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I know I’m done.
Finished.
There’s no way I could look him in the eye again, let alone….
Oops. Too late.
Ethan lets out a low groan that shifts to the sound of him clearing his throat once the dealer shoots him the same look I just got.
If we don’t both play our cards right, there’ll be a replacement hostess and security guard here in seconds if anyone thinks he’s even bordering on suspicious.
The casino is paranoid about players fixing the system, and as employees, we’re under just as much scrutiny from security as the guests.
But seeing as Ethan is losing so much every hand, the dealer doesn’t seem too bothered and suggests another game.
“Perhaps Roulette will bring you more luck?” he murmurs, eyeing the roulette wheel.
Something that’s virtually impossible to cheat at. Not that Ethan’s a cheat or even needs to.
But he readily agrees to a change of pace, turning his head to me and asking when my birthday is.
He’s caught me staring at his bulge again. My mind is like spaghetti as I try to form a rational thought.
I flush deep red again, and I look to the dealer, who gives a little nod of approval.
Helping a guest to pick a ‘lucky’ number is allowed in roulette, but any conversation or perceived ‘signaling’ during cards is a big no-no.
Maybe that’s why Ethan chose roulette, so he can chat with me while he plays. But damn. If the signals his body is sending mine aren’t intense enough, he’s somehow managing to look as calm and contained as ever.
All the hormones in his body seem to pool in one specific area.
That incredible crotch I can’t unsee and am having such a hard time keeping my eyes away from.
Ethan can play and talk at the same time easily, without drawing more attention to himself than he already has tonight.
And the dealer can’t see what I can.
“Uh…twenty-third of April,” I squeak, suddenly thrilled but shocked, when I see Ethan shift half his chips to number 23 and hover the rest over the number 4 on the felt grid before the dealer calls for him to place his bets.
Ethan keeps his eyes on mine and settles on just one bet.
Number 23.
“No more bets, please,” the dealer calls. His mouth twisting is the nearest thing to a smile as my insides knot up at the amount he’s bet.
And all because of me.
The little white ball is set spinning as the roulette wheel turns. But Ethan doesn’t even seem to notice.
All I can see and feel are his eyes on me, and another low hum leaves his huge body once the ball clatters and bounces once the wheel starts to slow.
“Twenty-three,” the dealer drones. He looks mildly disappointed, but I squeal with excitement at his win, clapping my hands together, totally forgetting all the ‘rules,’ which gets me a sour look from the dealer.
“Congratulations,” the dealer tells Ethan, who only shrugs.
Surprising me more because he doesn’t seem excited or relieved at all by his win.
“Three hundred thousand,” the dealer says dryly, pushing a new stack of chips over to Ethan.
I feel like I’m gonna faint.
I know it’s the high rollers room. But holy moly. That’s a lot of money by anyone’s standard.
And Ethan isn’t even smiling.
If anything, he looks…sad until his eyes meet mine again.
That winning smile makes me feel like it’s meant just for me.
As if he’s playing for me or something. Which is a thought I can’t hang onto for long.
It’s too far-fetched, too ridiculous.
He’s just a wealthy guy with more money than he knows what to do with. Kris… It’s not about you, okay?
“You’re my lucky charm, Krissy,” Ethan says with sudden intensity.
He shifts in his seat, moving his thick leg so I can have a better view of his true excitement.
“See what you do for me?” he grins, eyeing the stack of chips, but running a hand over his thick arousal under the table. Destroying any doubt I had in my mind that he’s interested in more than just gambling.
But it’s too much for me to process.
This whole day has been overwhelming.
I feel myself breathing way too fast. There are spots in front of my eyes, and I groan before I feel myself starting to sway.
Don’t faint… Do not faint….
My ears feel like they’ve popped, and once I can’t feel my legs, I know I’m done.
The whole room goes sideways as I gasp for breath, reaching and missing one of the empty seats by the gambling table.
Ethan leaps from his chair, diving across to me, catches me before I hit the floor, and helps me into a seat.
His huge, strong arms hold my weight easily. His dark eyes, full of concern, are fixed on mine before everything threatens to go black.
I hear Ethan growling at the dealer to call an ambulance, to do something. But he only answers that there’ll be no more bets at his table until he’s called a supervisor.
