Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
We kept that tradition alive for decades, this year included.
I found the table I was looking for and waited. I knew gambling in Sam’s establishment was going to make him explode with anger. My heart pinched a little when I realized he most likely was not around, but I forced myself to find the silver lining. The mere idea of me being here without him was going to bring him closer to asking me to move in with him again.
When the game drew to a close, I wedged myself in the middle of the semicircle of Prada-clad men, beaming at the dealer.
“I’d love to play.”
“I would love to play you,” a middle-aged man beside me jested, making the entire circle of men laugh crudely. I refused to let my smile drop.
“Wait, isn’t this …?” One of them frowned at me. I kept my gaze carefully on the dealer. “Whoa, it is. Aisling Fitzpatrick. Isn’t it your bedtime? Does your daddy know you’re here?”
I was three years shy of turning thirty, so this definitely stung, but maybe I deserved it for putting my parents’ needs before mine for almost three decades and still living at their place.
I stared at the dealer, ignoring the idiot talking to me. The older employee cleared his throat, widening his bowtie with his finger.
“Ma’am, I’m afraid—”
“Don’t be afraid. Fear is never a good look. Let me play,” I demanded, clinging onto my false confidence.
I was becoming aware of a warm, tingly sensation that spread from the top of my head down my spine. I knew exactly what it meant, and who just entered the room, but he didn’t make himself known.
“I’m not sure it is up to me, ma’am. See, there are rules regarding—”
“Me. Yes. I know. Brennan rescinded all of them.” I rolled up the sleeves of my Balmain mini-dress. “Same goes to women gambling in the card rooms. I’m not just any woman. I’m the woman Sam Brennan is engaged with in a battle of the wills. The rules do not apply to me. You can call and ask him yourself. That’s how I made it here in the first place.”
“There’s no battle, sweetheart. I won before I laid a finger on you, but nice try,” a low voice mocked behind me. My head snapped toward the door. Sam stood there, wearing a pale gray suit with a burgundy Hermes pocket square poking out of his blazer. A gorgeous sin in Italian loafers. He looked ready for a date. Ready for me, his skin gold and warm, his eyes gray and cold.
He knew I was going to come here the minute he challenged me to do so, and I fell right into his trap.
I looked away, ignoring him and turning my attention back to the dealer. I remembered what he told me all those years ago.
“I wouldn’t bet with me.”
“Why?”
“I always win.”
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel the warm excitement that came with seeing him, and my insides didn’t turn into baby food as they usually had. Something about him felt daring, quiet, and on edge tonight. Like the old Sam, the one who didn’t want me. I felt like he was on the brink of showing me very publicly how much I abused his patience. I shifted from one foot to the other on my high heels.
“She can play, under one condition.” Sam sauntered deeper into the room behind me, his voice drawing closer, and I was aware of the curious glances thrown my way.
I refused to turn around and give him the audience he demanded.
“Usually when a man gives you his word, it doesn’t come with stipulations,” I muttered, feeling the color rising in my cheeks.
“I’m not a man. I’m a monster.” He stopped beside me, not removing his gaze from my face for a second. “Look at me, Nix.”
I didn’t.
I looked anywhere but at him.
“I will let you play, if we play each other,” he finished.
“It’s blackjack. I won’t be playing against you. I’ll be playing against the dealer.” I turned around, facing him.
Men whistled and chuckled, enjoying their front-row seat to our exchange. They obviously weren’t used to seeing anyone stand up to Sam Brennan, let alone a dainty woman in a dress.
Sam smiled calmly. “We play high stakes here, Miss Fitzpatrick.”
“My Spidey senses tell me I’m good for it,” I deadpanned, making everyone in the room erupt into rowdy laughter. Did he really just try to financially intimidate me? I had more money than all the men in this room combined.
“A million dollars a hand. Five hands. Sound acceptable?” I asked, my voice prim and proper, offering him my hand for a shake.
The place exploded with hoots, laughter, and shrieks. The men were on fire. Everyone looked at Sam expectantly, knowing he was not a man to bow out of a challenge.