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I despise her working the room, weaving magic that’s purely her, but I’m also not a fool, and she’s the best damn tool I have.
So, I let her flit from conversation to conversation, keeping an eye on her when she pauses, drinking in her body language, filing away the men she talks to.
On the table in front of me, I throw into the pot for another hand, keeping track of my spending. It’s not a matter of getting into any kind of risk zone, although the game is high stakes, but I don’t go over a certain amount, no matter what side of a streak I’m on.
There are more interesting risks out there than cards.
The conversation is surface idle, below decks complex. I listen, partake, and answer when I choose. One thing’s fucking clear: Derek’s death has stirred up dust, and it’s agitated by Vitale’s demise.
I’m not surprised. I’d be shocked if there was radio silence. Too many men with power went missing the day we took him out. None of them have been missed, their holdings sucked up by others, but tongues are wagging, and the unspoken has me caught.
Rose.
People want to know about her, and I’m interested in any with a hidden agenda, as well as Popov, who’s just arrived—
A beautiful blonde slinks over, one who gives all the women in the room—apart from Rose—a run for their money, and out of habit, I don’t pick up the new hand. She’s not there to help the house cheat. No one here’s poor, and no one wants those repercussions.
Even monsters have unspoken rules.
She slides her arm over the back of my chair, her other hand going for my tie. I meet the blonde’s gaze, and she stops, sucking in a breath.
“That’s some look,” she murmurs. “How many people do you kill with it?”
I just keep my eyes on her, aware Rose has gone still and is burning a laser into me with her gaze. It’s enough to almost make me smile.
The woman backs off slowly, getting the silent message. I don’t allow unsolicited touching, but I know she slides something into my pocket anyway.
Interesting.
It takes a few moments, but under Rose’s thorny glare, it seems a small forever, one the darker parts of me revel in.
The woman follows my gaze. “She’s pretty.”
“She’s mine.”
The blonde smiles and slinks off to a man I don’t recognize. I raise my brow at Rose, and she narrows her eyes, the exchange almost as good as her hot mouth on my cock.
Yeah, I should have used those fucking toys on her, but concentration is hard enough without that particular distraction.
Someone moves into the room. Garcia’s here, a giant granite ninja, as Rose would say. He’s quiet, new enough to want to make an impression—if anyone here knows recent Queenstown history, which they will—and makes no bones about hiding who and what he is. The man, like Tony, does it without flaunting. However, Tony’s my right hand man; Garcia is not.
So, he’s here while Tony mans operations at home. Again, it’s a statement without a word spoken.
His gaze moves about the room, keeping Rose within distance. It’s not lost on her, and I know I’ll benefit from her anger later.
I’m fucking looking forward to it.
I return my attention to the game, taking in the newest players. Ivan Popov takes a seat and is dealt in. His white hair is cropped tight to his skull by the ears, the top left longer to be slicked back, his jaw wide and square, eyes sharp. Although his gaze grazes mine in acknowledgement, I don’t get anything else. He might be Russian, interested in the shifting powers and strategic importance of Queenstown, but I don’t pick up anything more.
No burn for revenge. No greed beyond the normal level.Interesting.
When I fold for the final time, I know I’m not getting more than I have. The note—because I know it’s a note—still sits in my pocket. Beyond that, beyond the looks and murmurs and veiled questions, I don’t have much.
I spoke to Rush earlier; he’s out and about, enjoying Manhattan’s delights. He’s under strict instructions to keep his trouble legal, the female sort. Keep it there, and I’m good. I’ll need to meet up and strategize a few different things, particularly one special task, but…
Rose puts herself in my path as I head to the bar, all killer instinct and out for blood. I can tell by the way she coils her hand around my tie to pull it slightly askew, and my fucking dick twitches.
“Watch your pretty hands, Rose.”
