Sincerely,
The Royal Harlots
Place: Chateau Frontenac Ballroom
Time: 8pm
Formal attire
Teller set the invitation on the desk. It was time to call a meeting.
Chapter Five
The grand ballroomwas a spectacle of opulence and allure, its gilded chandeliers casting a warm glow over the velvet-draped tables and bustling guests. The room buzzed with excitement as Teller walked through the arched entrance, his presence a steady force of power. Behind him, the entire Montreal Chapter of the Royal Bastards followed in a show of unity and strength; their normal attire of leather cuts had been replaced by black tuxes and sharp gazes.
At the center of it all stood Diamond, the president of the Royal Harlots, her confidence radiating like the jewels around her neck. Dressed in a sleek black gown, she welcomed guests with a blend of authority and charm. Her smile widened as she caught sight of Teller and the boys filtering into the room. A few of the club girls had accompanied them along with a several of the Ol’ ladies.
“Teller,” Diamond greeted warmly, extending her hand to the Montreal president. “Glad you and your boys could make it.”
Teller smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Diamond. Looks like you’ve outdone yourself tonight.”
“Only the best for my guests,” she replied smoothly, her gaze briefly flicking to the other men. “And I see you brought some extra firepower to keep things interesting.”
As the group moved deeper into the ballroom, the air was thick with anticipation. Guests gathered around blackjack and poker tables, dice clattered on the felt, and roulette wheels spun with the promise of fortune. Servers glided through the crowd with trays of champagne flutes and signature cocktails, the clinking of glasses mingling with the hum of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter.
The Royal Bastards took their places among the crowd, their presence impossible to ignore. With Teller at the helm and Diamond orchestrating the night’s festivities, the evening promised more than just games—it was a statement of unity, power, and camaraderie.
By the end of the night, fortunes would be won, alliances solidified, and memories made in the glow of The Royal Harlots’ Casino Night—a celebration where every move carried weight, and every moment was a gamble worth taking.
As the evening unfolded, the boys became the center of attention at every table they graced. At the blackjack table, Vicious’s quick wit and sharp intuition kept the dealer on edge, while Teller’s calm, confidence and occasional playful taunts had the crowd alternately cheering and groaning.
At the roulette wheel, Teller leaned close to a long dark hair woman. Her exotic appearance was alluring. His voice low as he whispered, “Red or black?”
She smirked, glancing at him from beneath her lashes. “Red. Always red.”
When the wheel landed on red, the burst of applause and laughter was matched only by Teller’s mock bow. “Looks like I’ve found my lucky charm tonight.”
“Don’t be so sure,” she teased, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “Luck changes fast.”
“What’s your name, doll?” Teller asked her.
She could use her first name, but what fun was that … especially when telling him her road name would get a better reaction. “Domino.”
He knew she was one of the Harlots. It oozed from her. “I’m Teller, but you know that.” He saw the corner of her mouth lift. “Let’s have some fun.”
“I do like having fun,” Domino informed him.
As the night wore on, the pair moved seamlessly through the room, their chemistry unmistakable. At the craps table, Teller tossed the dice with practiced ease, his hand brushing Domino’s as she passed him the next roll.
“You trust me with this one?” she asked, her tone playful but her eyes serious.
“Not at all,” Teller replied without hesitation, the weight of his words settling between them.
When the dice landed in their favor, the crowd erupted in cheers. Teller and Domino shared a quiet, triumphant smile—one that spoke of more than being about a lucky roll.
Away from the tables, they stole a moment on the edge of the ballroom, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. Teller handed her a glass of champagne, his expression softer than usual.
“Having fun?” he asked, his voice low.
