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“Succeeding in the family business requires me to be able to predict someone’s move five minutes before it happens.” He pulls my folded legs apart, wraps them around his waist, and tugs me close. “What’s your next move going to be, Sharky?”
I trace the face tattoo across his abs. “I don’t know yet.”
“That’s the right answer.”
“Why?”
“Because it tells me you care what happens, and this isn’t some bullshit fuck.”
“Love the poetic way you described the last couple of hours we spent together.” He tips my chin, and I blink at what I see in his gaze.
“Words don’t exist for what we just did.”
The soft glow of lamplight washes over the bed, and for a split second, I get a glimpse of a future that is impossible. “Let’s try the double lift.”
I demonstrate the technique, deftly lifting two cards as one, revealing the card beneath. “The key is to make it look seamless as if you’re only handling a single card.”
“Seamless, huh?” Enzo muses, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “Let me give it a try.”
He attempts the double lift, his large fingers fumbling slightly as the cards slip apart. His brow furrows in concentration, and I can’t help but smile at his determination.
“Remember,” I guide him gently, “it’s all in the grip. Hold the cards firmly, but not too tight. Let them glide between your fingers.”
He nods, taking my advice. The cards move more fluidly, and his movements become more confident. “Maybe I should consider a career change,” Enzo jokes, flashing me a megawatt smile that leaves me breathless.
“My grandfather taught me everything I know.” A wave of nostalgia washes over me. “Not just poker, but about life. How to read people, when to take risks, and most importantly, when to walk away.” The soft flicker of candlelight casts shadows on Enzo’s handsome face. “He believed poker reflected life– full of risks, challenges, and unexpected twists. He used to say that you could learn a lot about a person by the way they played their cards.”
“What about your parents? Did they teach you anything?”
I study my hands. “My father died when I was three. He was in the Navy and killed in the line of duty. My mom…got over it by getting a job with a cruise line and sailing the high seas.”
“Damn.” He pulls me closer. “No wonder you talk about your grandparents with so much affection.”
“Mom didn’t like life in the North End and told us constantly to stay away from anyone in thefamiglia.”
“And what did she know about the Cosa Nostra?”
“My brother and I think Nonno laundered money for your relatives through the laundromats.” I look up. “And we have recently come up with a theory that Mom’s vitriol resulted from a broken heart and not some moral high ground.”
“No shit?”
“We could be all wrong. Unfortunately, Nonno’s memory is spotty, so we can’t confirm whether we’re on track.” His gaze meets mine, and the intensity of the emotions swirling beneath the surface takes my breath away. “Anyway…this was the perfect send-off, Enzo. Thank you.”
“Maybe you should put Veagas on hold.” He takes my hand. “We can see what develops.”
I slide my hand away and gather up the cards, knowing there isn’t a future. “Sin City is calling. All the arrangements have been made.”
He takes the cards out of my hands. “There’s no reason to shut the door, Abby.”
The dimly lit suite makes the shadows dance around us like phantom spectators, and I know if they could speak, they would tell me to make a clean break. “There is no door.”
“I could make one.”
“And go against your family?” I shake my head and slide off the bed, tying my robe tighter. The air between us hangs heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings.
“Abby,” he murmurs quietly, the sound barely audible above the gentle hum of the suite’s air conditioning.
“Enzo,” I reply, my voice equally hushed, as if anything louder would shatter what we shared earlier. “Thank you,” I whisper, each syllable laced with longing for something impossible. “For everything.”
