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“Sorry to hear that.” He extended his hand. “I’m Nicholas Sharp. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too. I’m—”
“Fucking beautiful.” He interrupted, frowning at my wedding ring. “And unfortunatelytaken.”
“Yes.” I swallowed. “I’m married.”
“What a shame.” His fingers lingered against mine. “Does your husband make you happy?”
“Um…”
“I’ll take that as a no.” He smiled a set of pearly whites. “I’ve always wondered why people stay in marriages if they’re miserable, especially when there’s always someone out there willing to treat them far better.”
Unsure of what to say, I turned away from him and focused on my new hand.
“I’d hate to see your hot streak cut short,” he whispered in my ear. “You may want to fold this round.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“I’m hosting a private game in a high rollers room if you want to see how lucky you can get after this.”
“I’ll have to pass,” I stole a final glance of him before the game. “I’m only here to drink and forget my worries.”
“I can help you with that, too.”
“Doubt it.”
“Trust me.” He leaned closer. “I’ve been watching you from afar since you came up here and it looks like you could use someone to talk to. Even if you don’t, you shouldn’t be alone.”
Midway through the game, he pressed his hand against my cheek. “Whatever happens after this round, I think you should—”
“Get your fucking hand offmy wife.” Travis roared, making everyone around us look up.
The crowd that had gathered around our table fell silent.
Nicholas jerked back and held up his hands. “I had no idea she was yours. I swear, I would havenever—”
“Shut the hell up.” Travis stepped closer, pulling the cards from my fingers.
He looked around the table, noticing that it was my turn. Then he flipped my hand over, forcing the remaining players to reveal theirs.
“The lady wins again.” The dealer pushed all the chips my way.
“Ryan, grab Mrs. Carter’s chips,” Travis hissed.
“Yes, sir.”
“Come with me,Mrs. Carter.” Travis looped a hand around my waist and pulled me out of the chair.
My stolen sunglasses hit the floor, but he didn’t let me grab them.
Clenching his jaw, he led me through the crowd and past the other tables without saying a word.
“Oh my god, Travis Carter!” “When are you announcing the rematch?” "Travis!Travis!” “Can I get a picture?” “Your wife is fucking hot!” People held up their cell phones and snapped pictures of us.
I was far too intoxicated to fake a smile.
Travis escorted me past an “Employees Only” door and into a massive kitchen. Then he stopped and pushed me against the wall.
