“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Davies,” I deadpan as I look over at my beautiful friend.
She waves me off. “Whatever, doesn’t matter anyway since you’re here and all. I’m just glad I get to work the room with you tonight and not one of those other bitches.”
“Yeah, well,” I begin, wringing my hands in front of me. “Let’s just hope everyone goes home with their nuts intact this time.”
Davies giggles as a deep voice calls out, “Glad to see you back, killer.” I turn around and smile at Nick as he makes his way to me, giving me a sideways hug and planting a kiss on my temple. “There isn’t another waitress in this place I’d rather pour drinks for.”
I chuckle lightly and reach out to smack his well-defined shoulder. “Stop flirting with me, it’ll get you nowhere.”
“She’s not lying,” Davies calls from the poker table where she’s stacking chips in preparation for the game. “Seriously barking up the wrong tree there, man. I’ve known the girl since she first moved here and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her go on a date.”
Nick looks at me, his wide eyes gleaming like the gauntlet has just been thrown down and he is totally up for the challenge. “Well, we need to change that, then. Don’t we, gorgeous?”
“Wouldn’t count on it, Nicky,” I tease back.
Nick makes his way to the bar to check that it’s properly stocked for the night, and I use his absence to my benefit, rushing over and leaning in to whisper to Davies. “So, tell me something. What’s your opinion of Gavin Saint?”
She gives me a sideways glance. “You mean other than he’s fuck hot and I’d give my left tit for a night in bed with him?”
At her too-loud question, I glance around the room nervously, checking all the corners for cameras. “Relax,” she laughs, “They aren’t wired for audio.”
Releasing a sigh of relief, I look back at her. “Yeah, besides that. What do you think of the guy?”
“Honestly,” she starts at the same time executing a complicated, one-handed shuffle with the deck of cards. “I don’t really think anything. The man’s a vault. I think he’s probably said about five words in all the times I’ve dealt a game he’s playing. It’s impossible to get a read on him, so I just gave up trying.”
My eyes dart over my shoulder to the door, making sure no one has entered. “You don’t think he’s, like, a dick or anything like that?”
“Always seemed nice enough to me,” Davies shrugs. “You know, for practically being a mute.” At that, she stops shuffling, turns to me and props a hand on her curvy hip. “Why are you asking all these questions, anyway?” she asks in a skeptical tone.
“
Pfft
,” I wave my hand in the air in front of me. “No reason. Just curious, I guess.”
She stares at me in total silence before her eyes go wide. “Oh my God,” she gasps, suddenly looking giddy. “You
like
him!”
“Do not!” I protest instantly.
“You do! You totally like him!”
“No I don’t!” I whisper-yell, darting a look over my shoulder to make sure Nick can’t hear us from the other side of the suite. “And would you shut up about it? God, I do
not
like the guy.”
Davies studies my face closely before finally humming, “Mmm hmm, if you say so.”
Before either of us can say anything else, the double doors to the high roller suite open and a group of men—along with their scantily clad bleached robots—walk in. I do my best to ignore the hitch in my chest at the sight of Gavin entering the room, both his arms surprisingly empty. I don’t know why, but I expected he’d have at least one woman with him on the nights he played in the high stakes game.
I found myself frozen in place as those dark, penetrating eyes hit me. It’s as though he’s seeing right
through
me in this very moment, and the disconcerting feeling leaves me somewhat breathless and shaky.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” I offer my standard introductory speech. “I’m Nell and I’ll be your server tonight.” As the men take their chairs, I make my way around the table, taking drink orders. A sense of relief washes over me when I notice Ramos is missing from the game. For some reason I refuse to analyze, my gaze continues to shoot to Gavin the closer I get, and I can’t help but feel slightly bereft that, other than the cursory glance upon his entry into the suite, he hasn’t given me another look.
“Hello, Mr. Saint,” I speak quietly once I get to him.
The jackass doesn’t even deem me worthy of a nod, the only acknowledgment I get that he’s even aware of my existence is his grunted, “Whiskey, two fingers.” I don’t understand why, but his casual disregard is like a slap in the face. I’m just about to step away when he continues. “Think you can remember that?”
I spin around, wide-eyed at his sarcastic insult of my waitressing skills, ready to lay into him as my instincts beg of me, only to find one corner of his mouth hooked up in a smirk. The motherfucker is testing me.
And the night has only just begun!
Refusing to be baited, I give him a small nod and a professional, “Yes, sir,” before heading off toward the bar.
Davies has dealt the first game and everyone’s anted up as I stand and wait for Nick to finish loading my tray, making sure to keep my back to the other side of the room.
“Is this one Mr. Saint’s?” I point at the tumbler filled with amber colored liquid. When Nick nods, a smile creeps across my face as I lean forward just slightly, hovering over the tumbler, and spit in it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Nick hisses frantically, shooting wide-eyes at the oblivious men sitting at the table.
“You didn’t see anything,” I mumble a warning, swirling the contents of the glass to mix everything together. “Just do your job and act like the past thirty seconds never happened.”
As I turn to walk away from the bar, drink tray firmly resting on my shoulder, I can swear I see Nick smiling at me with something akin to hero worship. Mindful to place the glasses down on the men’s left, I work as quickly and quietly as possible, so as not to draw attention to myself.
Just like Gavin had “trained” me.
“Ah, very good,” the arrogant ass uttered under his breath as I set his drink down. “So she
can
follow direction. All hope isn’t lost after all.”
Pasting a smile on my face, I move to the side and watch with a grin as he lifts the tumbler to his lips and takes a hearty gulp.
Serves you right, dick-face
.
***
I can’t help but stare in wonder as Gavin wins yet another hand. Over the past several hours, the stacks of chips in front of him have grown into towers. It’s truly an impressive thing to watch. His facial expression remains completely stoic, no flinching, no twitching, as he studies his cards and lowers them, face down on the table.
Hell, the man’s spent more of the night watching the other people at the table than he has his own cards. I’ve never in my life seen someone so focused on a task they basically turn into a robot. It’s amazing, really.
“Jesus Christ,” Nick murmurs from behind me. “The lucky bastard won again.”
Spinning around on my heels, I place my palms on the bar top and face Nick. “How much do you think he’s won so far?”
He looks up and scratches his chin in thought. “If I had to guess, I’d say close to four hundred G’s.”
“Holy fuck!” I gasp. “I can’t imagine having that kind of money in one lifetime, let alone a night!”
Nick’s shoulder comes up in a shrug. “Yeah, well, when you have unlimited funds, it’s easy to throw them around.”
I’m still in awe as I look back at Gavin, sitting as still as a statue. “Yeah, but it’s not just that. He’s really
good
. I mean, I’ve watched him on TV before, but I guess seeing it in person is totally different, huh?”
“You’ll get used to it, gorgeous,” Nick grins.
As I scan the glasses on the poker table, checking to see if anyone’s in need of a refill, Nick’s fingers trail across the back of my hand, still resting on the top of the bar, jerking my attention back to him.
“What are you doing after this?” he asks in a low, sultry voice.
I shoot him a look that screams,
you’re so not getting up in all this
. “Sleeping,” I answer dryly. “It’ll be like, two in the morning.”
He rests his forearms on the bar and smiles unabashedly. “Then what about tomorrow?”
“Nick,” I say on a sigh, knowing exactly where this is going. “You’re a really nice guy, but—”
“Just think about it, Nell,” he interrupts, standing to his full height, palms out. “I’m not asking for anything serious, and I promise I won’t try and sleep with you.” He laughs at the sight of one of my eyebrows cocking up in doubt. “At least not on the first few dates,” he winks. “But in all seriousness, you’re a cool chick. I think we could really have fun together. Don’t you?”
God, he’s giving me the puppy dog eyes! Why does he have to be so damn adorable? “I’m not making any promises,” I tell him.
There, that’s nice, right? Not a full-blown rejection, but not a promise to anything either.
“But I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I’m asking for—oh shit,” he trails off, focusing over my shoulder. “Think you’re being summoned.”
Dread creeps over me, the skin on the back of my neck prickling as I slowly turn to face the poker table. Sure enough, Gavin’s glare is pointed at me like a goddamned laser beam. And he does
not
look happy.
On slow, unsteady legs, I make my way to the table, noticing his glass still has whiskey in it, so I can’t understand the disgruntlement rolling off of him in waves.
“Do you need anything, sir?” I ask in a very quiet voice.
“Yeah,” he grunts angrily. “I’d like for you to do your fucking job. Think you can manage that, Miss Prescott?”
I jerk back at his vicious tone, only getting my senses together enough to catch the whiskey tumbler as he shoves it at me. “And get me a refill while you’re at it.”
Unable to formulate rational thought, let alone an actual sentence, I walk back to Nick in a daze and refill Gavin’s drink order. All the while, trying to convince myself I don’t feel his hateful words like a punch in stomach.
I can’t understand why I’m having such a strong reaction, or why I seem to care so much, but as I stand silently, ignoring Nick’s concerned gaze as he refills Gavin’s glass, I give myself an internal pep-talk. Gavin can just go and fuck right off for all I care. I don’t need to put up with his shit.
Well, technically I
do
. But only for the next few hours, until this stupid poker game ends.
Then
he can go and fuck right off.
With a resigned nod to myself, I lift my chin, square my shoulders, and prepare to battle with the world’s biggest asshat. And I am going to come out the winner, damn it! So help me God!
**GAVIN**
“Mr. Saint, it’s your call.”
Two pair, aces high rest in my hand, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars sit in the pot, and I’ve earned an easy half mill already from reading the poor suckers at my table. I should be thrilled, relishing in my victory, focusing on sweeping yet another game, but my mind is elsewhere. It rests with the petite brunette flirting with the surfer boy over at the bar.
I’ve been a dick to her all night, to the point that I know my words have been hurtful, but I’m not trying to be her friend, I don’t really know what I’m trying to do, if I really stop to think about it. All I know is that she’s throwing my game off.
From an outsider’s perspective, you would never know I’m fighting a war in my head over what to focus on. I’m calm, neutral in my reactions, and observant. I give knowing glances to my opponents, letting them know that, once again, I’m about to sweep the pot. With every ante, I delicately flip my chip to the center, accurately landing it in the middle, a trick I used to practice when I was younger, now a superstitious act I must follow through on every round. I’m executing every step in my process of playing poker, except for ignoring the outside world.
My thoughts don’t escape me to the point that I can’t concentrate, hence the giant pile of chips resting to my side. They’re just annoying, irritating, and causing me a type of stress I don’t care to deal with.
“Call,” I say, knowing the unibrow to the right of me has nothing.
Just like I thought, he shows a pair, kings high. Flipping over my cards casually, I show my own pair, aces high, sending the poor fool into a frenzy of depression. The dumbass bet the rest of his loot on a pair of kings, pathetic showing at most. The only reason he’s in this room is because he can afford it. It’s rare I find a challenge anymore. Maybe that’s why I find Penelope so appealing. Appealing. Ha! More like fucking frustrating.
While Davies prepares for the next round, I let my gaze wander over to Penelope. She’s wearing the same heels she wore yesterday, her legs are bare of stockings, her skirt rides tight along her hips and falls just under the curve of her ass, and then there are her breasts, practically popping out of her shirt, wanting to be played with. Her smile is sweet, her demeanor is feisty, and there is something clouding those barely sparkling eyes that has the often present crinkle between her brows a constant tonight.
Money seems to be an issue for her, given the state of the first pair of heels I saw her in, but that doesn’t seem to be what’s bothering her. There is something deeper, something more meaningful manipulating her day to day structure.
But what the hell is it?
“Mr. Saint, are you in?” Davies asks, her smooth voice passing over me.
Instead of letting her see me startle out of my thoughts, I casually look down at my chips, take a sip of my drink and then flip my chip to the center.
Drawing my attention back to the game, I zone in and blank out everything else in the room. Penelope will be dealt with later. For now, I have money to win.
The group I’m running against is subpar at best. They’re easy to read. Timbers checks his cards every two seconds when he has a good hand, probably hoping they don’t vanish. Gibson wears glasses, he has shifty eyes, but what he doesn’t realize is that his eyebrows have more of a life to them than his personality. Sanderson is pretty steady, for the most part, but if you watch him carefully, you’ll notice that when he has a good hand, he taps his right index finger ever so slightly against the glass of his drink. It took me a little while to figure him out, but once I did he was easy to pick off. Then there’s Piccori. He’s a hot mess. He scratches his nose, shifts in his seat, and itches his right palm. The man is basically a giant, walking tell. Dude bleeds money whenever he comes into the suite. He doesn’t last very long.