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“Trust is such a fickle thing.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Salvatore,” he warns, his tone serious.
“You won’t be disappointed,Padre.”
Like I said. I have one goal. I have to win.
Even if I’m winning it all for him.
21
Milana
My feet hurt. My cheeks ache from plastering on a fake smile all evening. It’s been a long night, but the game is finally winding down. In between checking waitresses and food orders, I’ve been watching the action.
Salvatore is seated at one end of the table, my father at the other. They’re the final two left in the game. The dealer reveals the flop: king of spades, two of spades, jack of diamonds.
I study Salvatore and my father, looking for some kind of emotion. A tell. Neither of them give anything away. There’s no way to know what’s in their hands.
My father bets first, and Salvatore calls it. The turn card is a king of hearts. Interesting. If one of them is holding a king, or even one of the other cards, that’s three of a kind. A nice hand in this game, considering there are no wild cards.
Being the aggressor, my father bets yet again and this time, Salvatore raises. He has more to bet, his chips stacking nearly double.
The river card is revealed. The ace of spades.
My father squirms. Barely, but I notice. He taps his cards with his finger,
contemplating his move. All in. Without a shred of emotion, Salvatore calls the same. I swallow hard, nervous. This could change everything. No. Itwillchange everything. My father or Salvatore will finally have more power than Stefano.
“Three of a kind,” the dealer announces when my father lays down his cards. He was holding a king.
That’s a great hand! My father could win this!
“Flush takes the game.”
Salvatore stands, his cards on the table. He was holding pocket spades. He won. My heart pounds in my chest, unsure if I’m happy for him or disappointed for my father. The dealer pushes the chips over to Salvatore and hands him an envelope, my father’s name written across the front.
“Sweetheart, no matter what happens, please know I did this for us. For our family,” my father says, his grip on my arm tight. “I hope you understand.”
I furrow my brow, confused. “What are you talking about? What have you done?”
“Excellent game, gentlemen! Excellent game!” Stefano states, initiating a round of applause. “My son has already collected vacation homes, a yacht or two, and there was a jet, wasn’t it?” He chuckles as Salvatore opens the envelope. Stefano looks at my father and asks, “What have you contributed to this game, Riccardo?”
My father gives my arm another squeeze. “My daughter.”
The world seems to stop.
Salvatore doesn’t even look at me, his gaze focused on the paper in his hands. I glare at my father. How could he do this? I’m not a prize to be won. I’m a human being! I haven’t consented to this and refuse to be part of it.
“No, that can’t be right,” I mumble.
I’m desperate to scream out in protest but I’ve been raised not to cause a scene. I lean in close to my father, ensuring only he can hear me.
“Father, this is a mistake. What’s happening?”
“Trust me,tesoro.”
How the hell am I supposed to do that? He’s bartered me! I blink back tears when my father joins the crowd in an applause.
