AllFreeNovel
Share Us
At this, the man turns pleading eyes to me again. “Come on, Mr. Ricci, we’re practically friends here! Just have ‘em let me keep playing a bit and I’ll win it all back. You have my word as a gentleman!” He tries to reach again for the dice, but the dealer doesn’t flinch.
Behind me, two of my guards detach themselves from the wall to flank me on either side, hands drifting subtly toward their concealed weapons. The drunkard’s eyes dart to them, and he pales slightly, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture.
“Okay fellas, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. No need for trouble...” His voice trails off as his wavering bravado rapidly sinks beneath the weight of our impassive stares. After a tense beat, he turns back to me, wringing his hands anxiously.
“Please, Mr. Ricci...just give me a bit more time here. My luck’s about to turn around. I can feel it!” The man is visibly sweating now, eyes wide and pleading.
I raise an eyebrow, unmoved by his desperate appeal. “Is that so? Because by my recollection, your debts to my family are already staggering. Heading to the tables when you’re drowning seems an unwise gamble.”
I turn slightly to Dante, who has silently come up to stand at my shoulder. His icy blue eyes bore into the disheveled drunkard, radiating menace.
“Perhaps you could remind me of the extent of this man’s debts?” I ask casually.
“William Thomas,” Dante replies smoothly, never taking his eyes off the trembling man. “Current debts owed to the Ricci family total two hundred and fifty-six thousand. Plus interest, of course.”
William blanches at the sum named, the blood draining from his already pale features. He runs an unsteady hand down his unshaven cheek.
“Please...I just need one lucky break here! I have a daughter to provide for,” he blurts out desperately. He glances around as if seeking an escape from this confrontation. Finding none, his shoulders slump in resignation. When he meets my gaze again, his eyes glisten with barely restrained tears.
“Mr. Ricci...can’t we try to work something out here? Just give me a little more time at the tables tonight. I know I can win big if Lady Luck stays on my side.” The words spill from him in a frantic rush. “I swear I’m good for it - I’ll repay every cent I owe, plus interest! Please...I’m begging you!”
As he speaks, he fumbles for something in the pocket of his wrinkled dress shirt. After a moment, he retrieves a worn photograph that he gazes at longingly, his bloodshot eyes softening as he gently strokes a fingertip over the image. Looking at it seems to steady his trembling hands, if only slightly.
Interesting. I file away his strange reaction to the photo for later consideration.
“You say you just require more time to repay your debts, yet your promises thus far ring hollow,” I reply bluntly. “Convince me why I should take such a gamble on you, William.”
He drags a shaking hand through his disheveled salt-and-pepper hair and takes a steadying breath before meeting my gaze again.
“Because...because my wife, God rest her soul, she was an art dealer. Had a real eye for sniffing out valuable pieces.” William’s voice takes on a wistful edge. “Before the cancer took her, she told me about a lost Van Gogh painting she had heard rumors of. I still have contacts in the art dealing world from her days. I can track down the painting and fence it to repay every cent I owe the Riccis! I just need a little more time to work my angles, that’s all I ask.”
I weigh his words carefully, intrigued despite my skepticism. The far-fetched tale reeks of desperation and booze. And yet...something in his voice rings true to my ears. The unwavering conviction that this lost masterpiece can solve his woes. Perhaps there is some sliver of validity to his claims after all.
I turn to Dante, who has been silently observing this exchange, his face an unreadable mask. “What do you make of his claims? Could there be any truth to them?”
Dante considers for a moment before replying. “The wife was a well-respected art dealer among the international elite. And the daughter currently studies art history at university. It’s possible this lost Van Gogh is more than just drunk rambling.” He shrugs. “Improbable, but possible.”
I nod slowly, wheels turning. The tale seems incredible, and yet...why would a man in William’s position lie? He clearly grasps the consequences of continued failure.
Perhaps he merely needs proper motivation to succeed in his quest. I reach out and deftly pluck the worn photograph from William’s grasp before he can react. He makes a choked sound of protest but goes silent at my warning look.
The photograph shows a young woman with William’s chestnut hair and striking emerald eyes that must have come from her mother. She has a sweet innocence about her that tugs at my mind. I find my gaze lingering on her graceful features and slender figure. What secrets might that lithe body hold beneath the modest sundress she wears? I feel a spark of interest at the thought.
I raise an eyebrow at William, amused at his reaction. “This fetching young lady...she must be your daughter Clara, correct? I see you’re quite fond of her.”
William goes sheet-white at my words, his eyes darting between my face and the photograph. “Y-yes, that’s my Clara,” he stammers. “Please, Mr. Ricci, I swear I’ll find a way to repay my debts, if you’ll just give me a little more time! But leave Clara out of this, I beg you!”
I stare him down impassively, letting the silence stretch to make clear who holds the power here. He seems to shrink before me, mouth clamping shut in fear. After a long moment, I pass the photo to Dante without a word. Let William draw his own conclusions from the gesture.
“One week,” I declare evenly. “Bring me either the lost painting, or the money you owe. Do so, and our business is concluded. Until then, your lovely daughter will remain an...honored guest...of the Ricci family.”
William reels as if struck, shaking his head in denial. “No! I’ll get you the money, I swear it! Just leave Clara alone, don’t hurt her!” He takes a halting step toward me, hands raised in supplication, before Dante smoothly moves to intervene. At the subtle warning, William freezes in place, eyes darting between us.
I pin him with an icy stare. “You have one week, William,” I repeat firmly. “I suggest you get started.”
The fight bleeds out of the man before me at my uncompromising words. He gives a single jerky nod, defeat etched on his ravaged features. With slumped shoulders, he turns and stumbles away into the crowd without another word or glance back.
I watch him depart, considering the opportunity and risk this surprise encounter presents. Either William’s mythical lost masterpiece proves real, repaying his debts...or the charming Clara provides ample motivation to guarantee his utmost efforts.
