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The atmosphere is electric, dazzling, and magnificent, with life being strewn around like it's always found in abundance.
Philippe's hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer as the elevator glides down to the second floor. We are transported into a realm of culinary enchantment and wonder. Before us lies a sprawling expanse of tables, each one adorned with a digital surface that dances with vibrant colors and intricate patterns as food and digital media mix.
The air is filled with a symphony of melodious tunes as if the music itself is being orchestrated by the clinking of glasses and the laughter of patrons.
The fragrance of mouthwatering dishes fills the air. Digital tables stretch out before me, their surfaces seamlessly blending with the surrounding environment. I gasp as a cloth-covered masked hand emerges from within the table and pours someone a glass of wine. The man almost spills it in fright while the woman next to him claps in wondrous delight!
I shriek, too, and Philippe laughs quietly.
At last, we arrive at our intended destination. The doors slide open, and raucous cheers, clinking glasses, and slot machines greet us. I cling to Philippe's arm, ready to get lost in the glittering chaos of his domain. No matter the madness here, I want to see it all tonight.
We plunge into the vibrant casino, a kaleidoscope of color and sound. Everywhere, people are drinking, gambling, and reveling in excess.
Philippe steers me to a blackjack table and pulls out a chair. "Your favorite. And may fortune smile on you tonight,amore mio."
I kiss his cheek, tingles racing over my skin at his touch. "With you here, I'm already lucky."
He chuckles, his gaze heated. "The night's still young. Perhaps we continue our luck downstairs later?"
A blush stains my cheeks at the images in my mind. Philippe notices, grin widening, and I swat at him as he retreats to the bar.
The dealer deals me in, and I focus on my cards, but part of me remains attuned to Philippe. His presence is like the sun, impossible to ignore, even across a crowded room.
An eight of hearts, a six of diamonds, a jack of clubs. Not a bad start. I signal for another card, and the dealer flips over a ten of spades. 18. I tap the table, sticking with the total.
The dealer reveals his cards, which are only 14. A victorious smile tugs at my lips. The chips are pushed my way, and I rake them in.
From the bar, Philippe raises a glass, pride in his gaze. My heart swells.
Another hand is dealt, and I lean forward, ready to seize whatever delights this night may bring.
The cards slip through my fingers, a natural rhythm to the motions. Bet, reveal, win or lose, start anew. Each hand a contained story, a burst of drama and mystery.
Philippe circles the table, pausing to chat and laugh with acquaintances, but his gaze returns to me again and again. His eyes crinkle at the corners when I win, his smile widening with each new stack of chips by my side.
A memory rises unbidden—a younger me at my family's kitchen table, my dad hovering as I struggled through math homework, his smile bursting with pride at each problem I solved. A pang of loss pierces my chest, my father's face blurring in my mind, but Philippe's presence steadies me.
His hand settles on my lower back, warm and solid. "Time for a break,no?" His tone is light, but his eyes are knowing.
I nod, scooping up my winnings. We stroll to the bar, and Philippe orders us drinks. My gaze drifts to the sprawl oftattoos on his forearm, following the dark threads as they weave upwards.
"You looked far away just now," he says, handing me a martini. "Everything all right?"
"Just remembering my father." I swirl the olive in my drink, watching it spin. "He was always so proud of me. I was thinking how he would have loved to see me tonight, winning like that." I lift my gaze to Philippe. "But I'm lucky to have you now."
Philippe's eyes soften, and he pulls me close. "And me you," he says, lips brushing my hair. "Your father raised a strong, smart woman. He would be proud to see the woman you've become."
Warmth blooms in my chest, and I tighten my hold on him.
I glance around the casino, taking in the glittering chandeliers and luxurious decor. My gaze lands on a discreet elevator at the end of the hall, roped off and guarded.
"What's up there?" I ask, curiosity sharpening my tone.
Philippe follows my look. A flicker of surprise lights his eyes before his expression smooths into calm indifference. "The penthouse suites," he says. "For our most prized guests."
I frown, unconvinced. "Really? It looks...different, somehow."
After a beat, Philippe inclines his head. "You're perceptive as always, Tatiana." He lowers his voice as if sharing a secret. "That elevator leads to our forbidden floor. A place where fantasies come to life and anything goes. I believe we did cross it last time around, but I had some work done to the place since."
