Chapter 1 #2
My strategy is the same. I start with horrible bets to lower their expectations of me.
I overbet, losing to a monster hand from the guy on my right.
Then I underbet a bad hand, making everyone, including the woman in red, call it.
The woman gets a measly two pair on the river and wins the dreadful pot.
She jumps to her feet, squealing with delight, her breasts bouncing with the movement. The other guys at the table look as happy as if they’ve won. This should be an easy game.
I start actually playing, reeling the suckers in like planned.
Everyone jumps on it, blinded by the stack of chips they want to win.
But not her. No, she calls when I’m bluffing, and folds when I’m not, and a part of me would think it’s an accident until she shoots me a devious smirk after winning a big hand against me.
A hand I thought I played to perfection.
No one else notices the smirk, and my exhaustion could be deluding me, but something in the upturn of her red lips and the focus in her light blue eyes tells me it’s not.
Have I read her wrong? Is she playing the people, not the cards, just like I am?
A guy loses his entire stack in an all-in, and departs from the table, leaving just the four of us. I win chips left and right, but they’re not the ones I want. I want her chips. She might fool all these men, but she isn’t fooling me, and I want her to know.
Her stack rises, quickly reaching the height of mine. One more player leaves the game. The dealer slides out the cards, and I peek to see what I have.
Pocket aces.
The other guy folds immediately and gets up from the table with a loud sigh, but the woman calls the big blind.
“You have an excellent strategy there. Sorry it doesn’t work on everyone,” I tell her, low enough so that it stays between us and the dealer. My mouth drops in a show of fake sympathy as I use my position to raise.
“Whatever do you mean?” She bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly and calls my bet again. Perfect.
The flop reveals a three and a five of diamonds, and an ace, giving me three of a kind.
“You know… Your whole ‘I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m just here to have fun and look pretty’ spiel.”
Her arms squeeze together almost imperceptibly, but it pushes out her full tits enough to make my gaze catch on them. “What I’m hearing is you think I’m pretty.” She overbets with a satisfied smirk.
It’s an attempt to get rid of me, but I call, knowing I have the better hand. The turn is a three of clubs, meaning I’m now the proud owner of a full house.
“Not my point,” I respond, though she got me there. You’d have to be blind not to find her pretty.
“I never said I didn’t know how to play. It was you who made that assumption.” Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, a move too slow and sensual to be spontaneous.
Still, as a tiny flame of rage simmers in my stomach, annoyed with the idea of her trying to play me for a fool, my dick hardens at the sight.
I clear my throat and pay her bet. The river reveals a two of diamonds.
She glances at me for a beat, and my breath catches in my throat.
Even when I know what she’s doing, her game is still dangerous.
After a moment of deliberation, she places a massive bet, one that’s three times the size of the total pot.
It’s a textbook move. Trying to throw me off, acting like she just got a better hand.
She might consider this her circus, but I’m not one of her monkeys.
My chips clink as I push them all-in, determination coursing through my veins. “You should have really accounted for the fact that not everyone will fall for your charm.”
My tone is low, but her mouth twists into a devastating smile, one so different from all the fake ones she was flashing all night. “And you should have really accounted for the fact that there’s one more ace in the game.”
Before her words register in my brain, she pushes her own stack all-in and reveals her cards.
An ace and a four of diamonds.
My heart thuds in my ears as I realize what happened. I lost. She has a straight flush, which beats my full house.
She doesn’t wait for me to turn my cards over, already asking for a cash out while I’m stuck staring at her cards with disbelief. The dealer counts her chips, and I sense her stepping down from the chair.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, interrupting the shock. The screen shows a text, this time from Andre, one of my men. He’s one of my most trusted employees, and while I typically respect him, my nose now huffs with irritation. They need me. Again.
I huff a breath, running a hand over my face. Manicured nails wrap around a black chip right in front of me, turning it with the precision of a professional.
“Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.” I feel her breath on my neck as she whispers it.
The motion shoots straight to my dick, heating me from the inside.
There’s a choice to be made. Deal with a work crisis, only to have a new crisis appear. Or have a drink with the mysterious, gorgeous woman.
Poker wasn’t the magical cure for my mood, but some time with a woman like her just might be.