Page 11 of A Devious Arrangement
He drags his tongue across his upper teeth, and his eyes grow dark, focused on mine. “Stasia, something tells me you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
My body buzzes as tingles course through me and heat spreads throughout my stomach. I dig my nails into my palms, the pain snapping me out of it. The last thing I should be doing is reacting to a man like him. He’s nothing better than a rogue.
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Aww…you’re making me feel like you don’t like me.” There’s a glint in his eyes like he knows exactly how my body’s reacting and he doesn’t believe any hint of my resistance.
A man clears his throat. “Are you two playing?”
Heat rushes up my neck, flooding my cheeks. All the men around the table are waiting for us, no doubt listening to our every word.
I swallow hard, ready to bolt. Screw asking Bash questions. I need to get out of here before I explode with embarrassment.
Bash pulls out a chair and guides me to sit down with a firm hand on my shoulder, letting me know not to try anything if I don’t want him to make a scene. Then, he takes the seat to my right.
I tuck the skirt of my dress under my thigh. “I don’t have any money with me. I can just watch.”
“I’ve got you. You’re my guest, after all.” Bash knocks on the table, and the dealer passes him a set of chips for me and himself. My breath catches. There has to be at least one hundred grand in front of me.
My eyes grow wide. “What if I lose it all?”
He chuckles. “I’ll call it money well spent.”
“I won’t pay you back,” I warn. It wouldn’t cover how much we owe to the Salvatores, but it would definitely help.
“Hmm…something tells me it’ll be worth it.”
His belief in me makes me feel bare. Unease settles in my gut as the dealer passes two cards to each player, and my hands shake when I pick them up.
Careful to make my expression blank, I look around the table for anything they’ll give away. Cromwell drums his fingers on the surface, and there’s a slight redness to his ears. He’s easy to read. He thinks he has the best hand here and wants to get this round moving. I take my time looking over each player, reading their tells easily. The ones that stare at their hands with a glint in their eyes and the ones whose shoulders are curled inward. How exactly are they so bad at this?
“Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you,” the man across from me says. The look he’s giving me tells me he’ll do anything but. Wallace. He’s still an Unsainted and taking a big risk being here.
For the first time since walking into this room, a swirl of excitement tingles my skin. I may not be used to gambling dens, but I’ve spent my entire life kicking my brother’s ass at poker. A grin pulls at the corner of my mouth, and Bash tilts his head to the side as he watches me.
For someone who’s known for his recklessness, he’s entirely too attentive. It’s as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Turning away from him before my mind can go any further, I assess my hand.
A pair of nines. Not great, but I’ll make it work. A quick glance around the table tells me I can stay in this.
The first three men fold instantly, relaxing in their chairs and drinking. They’ll have to wait until the next round to have another chance.
Wallace reads his hand, then calls, placing $6,000 worth of chips into the middle. It’s safe, so he probably has nothing fantastic.
“Raise $12,000,” Cromwell says, sneering at me. He makes my skin crawl.
Bash is next, and he places his cards face down. “Fold. It’s up to you now, Princess.”
For how hard Cromwell’s staring at me, there’s a chance he has a great hand, but he’s being a little too cocky for only having two. My guess is his confidence is more misogyny than skill.
I call, matching the $12,000 in the pot. It’s worth the risk to see the flop. Plus, it’s Bash’s money.
Everyone else folds, and Wallace throws his cards to the dealer. As expected, he’s playing it safe.
Which leaves me against the Saint, Cromwell.
I give him a cheeky grin, not willing to back down, even though it’s clear he’s doing everything he can to intimidate me. Not today, asshole.
