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An hour ago, I would’ve sworn that resisting the woman until the end of time was possible, but now I’m not so sure.
Instead of falling into the woman’s honeyed web, I should’ve left after I escorted the whale into the room. But goddamnit, watching her play was like observing a great artist create a masterpiece.
I want to know everything about her. What she eats, the scent that lingers on her pillows, and every thought that crosses her mind. I’m greedy for details and wish like hell that I wasn’t.
The last thing I can afford is a distraction, yet her image keeps returning like a relentless wave crashing against the shore.
The way her lips part when she smiles, the way her hair falls gently on her shoulders, and how her eyes sparkle when she wins is on the highlight reel.
“Enzo!”
Turning, I see Nico stride in my direction. “What’s up?”
“Just got word theSerpentwalked into the lobby.”
“What the hell is Rodrigo Vargas doing here?” I tap my earbud. “Benito, do we have a man on Vargas?”
“Yeah Boss. He’s headed for the second floor.”
“Work your contacts. I want to know who is holding his leash.”
“You got it.”
My jaw tightens as venom crawls through my veins. “If he’s still playing with the Albanians, I’ll get rid of him tonight.”
“Last I heard, he’s still operating alone and sells to whoever pays the most.”
“These independent contractors piss me the hell off since there’s no way to predict their next move.”
Nico taps his earbud and then puts a finger up. I look around the busy first floor and see our men in position.
“He’s inside the high-stakes poker suite with a million dollars worth of chips.”
“Why is an arms dealer playing cards here?” I stride toward the elevator and know I’m about to fucking find out. He’s never stepped inside any of our businesses, and there must be a compelling reason why he would do it today.
His association with the Albanians puts a target on his back, and he’s not stupid enough to believe we’ve somehow become an organization that believes in forgiveness.
I step into the room where our biggest whales play, and millions of dollars are won and lost every hour. My eyes are drawn to Abby seated at a table in the center of the room. Around her, an assortment of intimidating opponents and wealthy spectators eagerly watch the game unfold.
Rodrigo stands near the bar with his focus trained exclusively on Abby.Fuck me. Have they crossed paths before?
The tension in the air feels like a taut string ready to snap.
Clinking chips fill the smoky atmosphere as the players’ intense gazes seem to dissect each other, searching for any hint of weakness. Abby’s face reveals nothing to her adversaries, and I’m again reminded that she’s a professional.
“Call,” she says with a velvety voice that demands attention. She slides her chips into the pot, never breaking eye contact with her opponent. The woman owns every player’s attention. The slow smile, the eye contact. She’s a master and, unfortunately, might’ve caught the interest of a sociopath.
Through the haze of smoke and mounting pressure, I see Abby remains unshaken, calculating her next move with the precision of an experienced strategist.
“Fold,” one player announces, retreating from the battle. Others follow suit, leaving only Abby and a few remaining warriors to vie for the spoils of victory.
The dealer reveals the final card, and I see the gears turning in her mind, analyzing the possibilities and weighing options.
“Raise,” she declares, her voice unwavering as she pushes a towering stack of chips into the center. The remaining players exchange glances, uncertainty etched on their faces.
“Too rich for my blood,” a player mutters, throwing his cards down in defeat. One by one, they fall until only Abby and her most formidable opponent remain.
“Call,” the man grumbles, his eyes never leaving Abby’s face. The tension in the room increases as the dealer reveals the winning hand.
