4. Anastasia
Chapter 4
Anastasia
As soon as I enter the smoke-filled room, my throat tightens, and my eyes water. The pungent smell of cigarette smoke assaults my lungs, and I have to fight back a cough. Ten men sit around a large poker table. They’re all silhouetted by the low light, but I can make out their familiar faces. Their stern expressions and focused gazes on their cards hint at the serious game underway. They’re all acquaintances from our social circle, but thankfully not close friends of my brother’s. He would lose his mind if he knew I showed up here. I can’t help but wonder what their respectable fathers would say if they knew what their sons were up to.
“I…I have to go,” I say, and a solid wall of muscle holds me in place as I stumble back directly into Bash. His chin brushes the top of my head as I tuck underneath him perfectly. He chuckles, steadying me with one hand.
The men do a double take as Bash presses his warm palm against the small of my back, his hand rough and warm against my skin as he pushes me further into the room.
“Are you crazy?” Eric, the newly minted Saint of the Cromwell family, says as he stands, placing both palms on the table. His young face is pinched in disbelief. “You can’t bring someone like her in here.”
Bash tilts his head to the side, eyeing the younger man. “Can’t I? I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the hell I want. Plus, Stasia won’t tell anyone. Right?”
“Don’t call me Stasia.” My hands fist at my sides. “I won’t tell anyone. Just let me out of here.”
“I don’t think so. You see, the longer you stay, the more you’re an accomplice. Then it would be as dangerous for you as it is for us to tell anyone about this as it would us.” A devious smirk curves his lips. “Isn’t that right, boys?”
The men at the table grunt, then go back to their cards. Bash is right—there’s nothing they can do about it. If a Lord says something will happen, no one will go against him. Even if it means risking their reputation.
A wave of high-pitched laughter drifts from the plush sofa to my right, drawing my attention. I spot a man sandwiched between two women, kissing one of them passionately. My stomach clenches as it hits me I don’t recognize either girl, and by the way they’re dressed, they definitely didn’t come from the ball. Panic sets in. I’m in some kind of sleazy, secret gambling den.
“Relax, Princess. Nothing will happen to you here. Not with me, at least,” Bash whispers in my ear, sending tingles down my spine. My traitorous body likes the feel of his breath a little too much. I like sex as much as the next girl, but I’ve never felt this kind of attraction before.
It’s only when he wraps his arm around my waist and guides me deeper into the room that I snap out of my daze. I should fight against his hold, but with all eyes on me, that’s the last thing I’m going to do. I’ll just wait it out until Bash’s distracted, then get out of here. An idea sparks, and I have to cover my smile. This may work out for me. After all, he is a Lord, and who better to know where the tiara is? If I can just get him to trust me, this might be easier than I thought.
There aren’t any available seats at the game table, and I expect to move to the sitting area, but Bash looms over the players.
“Move.”
Two chairs clear immediately, not a hint of hesitation as they go to the sofas, quickly distracted by scantily clad women. This is a guy’s paradise if I’ve ever seen one. I shudder at the thought of how many times they’ve used this room and just what they use it for.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I say under my breath so only Bash can hear.
“Come on. Have a little fun. You’re always so rigid.”
My nose scrunches. “I am not.”
Bash rolls back on his heels. “Yes, you are. You float through events like being there is beneath you.”
He’s wrong. I’m not distant because I want to be. I just can’t let anyone get too close. Not when a closer look would reveal just how messed up my family is. I force levity I don’t feel into my voice. “Have you been watching me?”
“Why, did you want me to be?”
I laugh, unable to hold it back. “Are you always this ridiculous?”
“Only when I want to make a pretty woman laugh.”
“Oh, so I’m just a pretty girl to you?” I huff out a breath. Why would I expect anything less from a playboy like him? It’s become the norm to see the youngest Everette brother with a different girl on his arm at every event, never getting too serious with any of them. If it’s not a girl, it’s his brother Xander, and they’ve been notorious since they were young for getting into mischief. All the more reason it’s a bad idea for me to be here.
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.
The dealer flips the next three cards, and I have to hide the swoop of excitement from my face as another nine is laid.
Trips is an excellent hand.
Cromwell raises another $12,000, the dare written all over his face.
I take my time examining him. He’s no doubt grown up with power and money in a world where women can’t gain power. He may raise the stakes, but that doesn’t mean he has a good hand. It’s likely he truly doesn’t believe I can beat him.
I raise, doubling the pot, and Cromwell’s eyes widen.
There’s greed written all over them.
Bash chuckles from beside me. He’s watching us, his posture relaxed, a Cheshire grin curling his lips. He’s loving this.
It’s in the Saint’s hands now, and his eyes narrow on me, glancing over my chest, sending a shudder through me. Gross. “All in.”
I glance at Bash to see if there’s anything warning on his face. This is a lot of money, but he looks as amused as ever.
Pushing my chips forward, I call.
There’s a ripple of eagerness in Cromwell’s gaze, and I have to hold in my groan.
He shows his cards first. He has a pair of aces and a two and five. Not bad, but not good enough.
His eyes widen when I lay mine down, face up. Triples beat pairs.
His lip curls, and the veins in his neck stand on end, but there’s nothing he can do as the dealer flips the river card.
I grin as another nine appears.
Bash laughs beside me as he leans back in his chair. “She beat you good, Cromwell.”
The Saint gets up, his face scrunched, but a quick glance at Bash has him walking out without saying anything.
We’re all dealt another two cards as the next round begins.
Bash is the only one I can’t read. He’s lounged in his seat like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but it’s the firm wall blocking his expression that lets me know he’s taking this more seriously than he’s letting on.
“You watching me now, Stasia?”
I sigh. “It’s a part of the game.”
He leans in close, his arm brushing mine. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I drop my gaze to my cards, not wanting to give any more reasons to pique his interest.
A woman wearing a skirt that barely covers the start of the curve where her butt meets the back of her thighs approaches the table, holding three bottles and enough glasses for all of us. She giggles when one man wraps his arm around her and tugs her close. He’s leering at her, and by the way she stiffens, she doesn’t enjoy it. Nothing else gives her away though. This is her job, and she’s clearly used to it. I hope all these girls go home every night and make fun of how gross everyone is. The men may think their power makes them special, but to these women, they’re just another mark.
They better tip well.
An empty crystal glass is set on the small table beside me, as well as a large bottle filled with amber liquid. I’m just about to say no when Bash collects his tumbler. There’s a bubbling in my chest as the wheels start turning. He’s entirely too closed off to get any information out of him, but if I can just get him intoxicated, there’s no telling what he’ll divulge.
I take the open bottle and fill two fingers’ worth of whiskey into his glass before adding one to mine. The goal is to get him drunk, not me.
Bash rolls the glass over his bottom lip, assessing me before taking a sip. My fingers tighten on my own glass. I know my face is blank, but his piercing gaze feels like he can read my deepest secrets.
I tip my glass, and the cool alcohol fills my mouth, burning the back of my throat. I cough against the taste, blinking away the tears.
Bash runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “Careful. Do you want something else?”
“I’m fine. Just a bit strong.” I smile sweetly and take his glass. “Looks like you’re nearly finished with yours.” I fill his glass again, this time a little more. I’ll use my reaction as an excuse for why I have to drink slower, giving me the advantage of getting Bash drunk.
He smiles before downing the drink and pushing it toward me to fill it again, telling me he’s more than happy to follow my lead. Suspicion crawls up the back of my neck. He’s being entirely too accommodating. He’s rash, but he isn’t stupid. Still, he drinks it like it’s water before I refill it.
Everything’s going according to my plan until he holds his glass up to mine in a toast, and I have no choice but to clink mine with his and take another sip. My throat constricts, and I fight back a cough. I swear it’s strong enough to take someone out. I’ll have to be careful, or I’ll be the one losing my head.
One round after the next, I pull the pot toward myself. My chips are growing into a tower in front of me. Bash is the only one who hasn’t lost his money, playing it safe instead of going for it like our companions.
“You’re fucking cheating,” Wallace hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. Reactively, I move to the side, ignoring the fact that I’ve brought myself closer to Bash.
Bash places his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his palms in a casual pose. There’s electricity in the air, like the sky before a thunderstorm. The men swallow as they watch his gaze crackle when he says, “I’d be careful about what you say next. Stasia is my guest, after all.”
His words are low and rough, daring anyone to go against him. His possessiveness sends heat swirling in my lower stomach as my thighs squeeze together, desperate for some kind of contact.
I shift in my seat. It’s easy to see that Bash is dangerous even through his playful demeanor, but never once have I thought I’d react like this.
The man goes pale, and he grabs the few remaining coins left on the table before getting up. “Of…of course, I’m sorry…Miss Volkov. I’m not sure what took over me for a second.”
“Does anyone else have a problem with Stasia?”
Bash uses the nickname so casually, like we’ve been friends for years, instead of this being the first time we’ve sat next to each other. I resist the urge to correct him again. The atmosphere is tense around us, and I don’t want to bring any more attention to myself.
“Of course not,” Wallace replies. Grabbing his money. “Although, I don’t think I can afford to keep losing to you, Stas?—”
He cuts off my name when Bash’s gaze narrows on him.
“Miss Volkov.”
Assessing Bash, I try to figure out what he’s up to. He’s been playing with my name all night, yet he looked like he was about to murder the man when he tried to do the same. That same possessiveness he has no right to feel is taking over his demeanor. My head feels light, and I can feel the heat crawl up my neck and settle in my cheeks. I blame the alcohol.
Within an hour, the room’s cleared, leaving only Bash and me. By now, I’ve filled his glass countless times, and he has to be feeling it.
I lean over, giving Bash a coy smile, and refill his drink again. He lifts it to his lips with a wink before tossing it back. This man clearly thinks he has the upper hand, but I’m still nursing my first glass, with the excuse that it’s too strong.
His eyes are hooded when he gathers the cards in front of him. “Since you’ve scared them all away, how about we switch to blackjack?”
“I’d love to.” It’s hard to keep the smirk from my lips. I’m good at poker, but I’m excellent at blackjack. I just need my luck to hold out a little longer, and I’ll get what I came for.
Nerves rack through me as I evaluate my cards, laying them down with a click.
I lay down my queen and six, but he beats it easily with a king and seven.
His gaze is sharp as he intently watches for my reaction. I squirm in my seat as his clear gray eyes focus on me a little too long. At this rate, he’ll have to polish off an entire bottle before he’s distracted enough for what I need.
I’m going to have to find another way to distract him. A wild idea tumbles through my thoughts, and my back stiffens as he reshuffles the cards. I have no idea when I’ll have this kind of opportunity again. It’s not like one of the Everette brothers just strolls up beside you every day. Think of the company your family worked so hard for. Think of your brother.
I smirk at him and tilt my head to the side. “Why don’t we up the stakes?”
His brows pull together. “I wouldn’t want to win all my money.”
Unease settles in my gut. It would be within his rights to ask for it back. After all, he is the one who lent the chips to me. I keep my expression soft. There’s no way he can know just how much I need the piles of cash tucked to the side of me.
“I was thinking something a little more risky.”
His grin is wolfish when he replies. “I’m going to need you to spell it out for me.”
Casually, I sit back in my chair, outwardly looking as calm as possible. “Loser takes off an item of clothing.”
“ Fuck .” The word is a breath from his lips before a laugh breaks from him. “You are definitely different from what I expected. I’ll take you up on that deal.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, steadying myself. Unfortunately, for this to work the way I want it to, I have to lose at least a few rounds. I need him as distracted as possible if I’m going to avoid his suspicion. As it is, I’m playing a much more dangerous game than just removing a few items of clothing.
I flatten my cards on the table. “Are you in?”
“Princess, I am so fucking in.”