Chapter 14 Lorenzo
E very time I sit at a poker table and feel the cool green surface under my fingertips, I get such a high of adrenaline. This is hands down my only favorite part of Vortex—the casino.
In the center of the room, a huge chandelier hangs above the raised platform where all the games take place. The rest of the room has lounges scattered all around, where guests can sit and relax with a drink if they choose not to play. The lighting is soft, casting a golden glow that makes everything a bit more magical.
“Mancini, fancy meeting you here,” Julian says sarcastically.
“Molina.” I nod curtly. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
A lot of people think I’m reckless with gambling and women. But Julian Molina? What I do is child’s play compared to him. To be fair, the guy is a twenty-eight-year-old billionaire living off his trust fund. His family owns Molina Media Group, the largest digital marketing agency in the world. His parents, born and raised in Puerto Rico, moved to the United States for a better life when they were young. His father, the current CEO, worked tirelessly to get his MBA and build the company into the empire it is today. Julian is always the talk of the town. You can almost always find him in Ibiza or Greece, often plastered and getting himself into trouble. He’s often the talk in gossip columns, always seen with a model or on Cala Tarida beach, jumping into the ocean butt-ass naked—true story, by the way. It happened recently. He’s a god in the eyes of the media. They love to watch his every step, eagerly waiting for the inevitable trouble he’ll get into.
“Yeah, well, Daddy dearest is out of town, so I’m able to fucking breathe for a change,” he replies, amusement lacing his tone.
I raise an eyebrow. “What did you do now?”
Typically, when Julian is hanging around the streets of Chicago, it means his dad has a close eye on him because he did something he wasn’t supposed to do.
He shrugs casually. “Got arrested in Spain for public indecency.”
“Oh, Molina. You stupid motherfucker.”
“To be fair, I was very drunk and I needed to pee.” He laughs. “Come on, Mancini. Let’s play some poker.”
Before a response forms on my lips, Ivy approaches us. “Hello, gentlemen. Anything I can get you to drink?”
I frown. “They have you working up here today?”
“Yup. Elisa was not happy the other day, and now I’m stuck working here for the next two weeks.” She rolls her eyes. “At least the tips are still good. Now, can I get you two anything?”
“How about your number?” Julian asks.
Ivy looks at him with a scowl. “Will you ever give up?”
I laugh at her comment. Julian has been trying to get Ivy’s number since she started working here. The guy is a shameless flirt, but when it comes to her, I think he sees it more as a challenge since Ivy will bust his balls every chance she gets.
He leans forward in his chair, eating some of the distance between them. “Have you learned nothing? I will never give up, Ivelisse.”
She hits him on the shoulder, hissing. “Don’t call me by my full name. You know how much I hate it.”
“But why, Princesa? 1 ? It’s cute.”
“Ay Dios mío? 2 ,” she mutters under her breath. “I don’t know what I hate more—when you call me Ivelisse or when you call me Princesa.”
“Please.” He rolls his eyes with a knowing smirk. “Tú sabes que a ti te encanta cuando yo te llamo Princesa.? 3 ”
She thins her lips for a moment. “Just for that, you can go get your own fucking drink.” She turns her head, looking at me. “Whiskey neat, yeah?”
I nod. “You already know it.”
She nods and walks away. Julian’s eyes shamelessly follow every single one of her movements.
“Will you ever give up the chase?” I ask.
I honestly couldn’t care less what Julian gets himself into, but Ivy is practically my sister and the last thing she needs is to get involved with someone like him.
He shakes his head. “Never. That woman is going to be my wife one day.” His tone is so filled with conviction, I almost believe him.
“Good luck with that.” I let out a small, amused snort. “She knows what shit you get up to around here. You do realize you have a reputation, right?”
“I’ll drop it all for a woman like her.” He beams like the idiot he is. The day Julian Molina settles down will be a cold day in hell.
I opt to not say anything, because I know Ivy can handle herself. She’s smart enough to know that mixing herself with Julian would be a recipe for disaster. Instead, I nod to the dealer to start the game. One of the perks of being the vice president of this club? If I’m sitting at the poker table, the game doesn’t start until I give the go-ahead.
“Why don’t you hand me your money now? You want to suffer through a game and claim I cheated?” I challenge, glaring at Julian.
The dealer places two cards face down to each of us and the rest of the players.
Julian peeks at his cards and smirks then looks at me. “We’ll see. Maybe today is my lucky day,” he says, betting two lavender chips, each worth a hundred thousand dollars.
I peek at my cards. An ace of spades and a king of hearts. It’s a strong starting hand, so I call the bet, matching his amount without hesitation. People can call me cocky all they want, but I’m good at this game. Maybe even a little too good. I’ve always believed the reason I do so well is because, well, it’s just money. It means nothing to me.
The dealer reveals the first three cards, and I glance toward the entrance as Damian steps inside with Aria. I lift my hand to get their attention, and my breath catches when I see none other than Sophia walk in right after them. She’s wearing this killer short, blue satin dress that clings to her curves in all the right places, shimmering under the overhead lights. The hemline dances just above her knees, revealing those beautifully toned legs of hers. My memories flash back to that night, my hand traveling upward, touching every inch of her soft skin as I had her pinned against the wall.
Her hips move with a grace that commands attention, and looking around, I’m not the only one noticing her.
“Who’s the babe?” Julian asks, intrigued. This is what I mean. This man will never stop chasing after every hot woman he comes across. I’ll drop it for a woman like her, my ass.
My eye twitches involuntarily at the sound of Julian’s voice. “None of your fucking concern,” I snap, tapping the table twice to get his attention. “Get back to the game so I can beat you.”
I have the sudden urge to finish this game as quickly as possible so I can go spar with her.
Well, that’s a first.
Julian raises an eyebrow at me, his eyes flashing with a mysterious mischief. “Let’s make this bet more interesting.”
My heart rate picks up. Whatever he’s about to propose, I’m not going to like.
“If you win, I’ll stay away from her,” he starts.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” I drawl, twirling a lavender chip between my fingers.
“I’m talking about the hot brunette that seems to have you squirming for whatever reason,” he replies with a shit-eating grin. “But If I win, well, let’s say she’ll be going home with me tonight.”
“Yeah? Weren’t you just saying Ivy was going to be your wife one day? Moving on so quickly, lover boy?”
“You let me worry about that.” He waves his hand dismissively. “What do you say?”
Yeah, over my dead fucking body.
Just say no to the bet .
If I say no to the bet, he’ll go after her. I look at the cards. Ten of hearts, jack of diamonds, and queen of clubs. I have a good hand. My heart races at the prospect of entering a bet I’m sure to win.
Okay, but if you don’t, he’ll go after her…
I’ve never backed down from a bet, and I’m not about to start now. A few of the other players around the table fold, while others call. Then the dealer reveals the turn: a nine of hearts.
One card away from a straight.
Why are you so nervous? You’re never nervous when it comes to gambling. You said it yourself, you don’t care.
The stakes became much higher, and that’s all I’m going to allow myself to admit.
“You’re on,” I reply, throwing two more lavender chips on the table.
He raises an eyebrow, but I see his demeanor changing slightly. He’s hesitating . People always have a tell, and he’s no different. Every time he’s unsure of a hand, his shoulders tense, and if I’m right, he’s about to scrub his face with his left hand right about now.
He scrubs his face as I expected before calling my bet. Finally, the dealer lays down the river: a ten of clubs.
Three of a kind, thank fuck .
For the first time in my life, my shoulders relax for the briefest moment during a game, and I catch myself before anyone else can notice. Julian goes all in, pushing the remaining chips to the center of the table. I do the same, feeling more confident than ever. The rest of the players fold, leaving it down to just the two of us. The tension is palpable as Julian reveals his cards, which are two pairs.
With a smirk, I flip over my cards, revealing my three tens .
Julian groans in frustration, rolling his eyes. “Well played, Mancini.”
I casually rise from the table and button my suit, then pick up one of the lavender chips and give it to the dealer. I always tip a minimum of a hundred grand when I play high stakes like these.
I toss the remaining chips onto Julian’s lap, letting them scatter across the floor, and plant a hand firmly on the poker table as I lean in close to his ear. My voice drops to a low, menacing tone. “If you ever come near her, or even think about her, you will answer to me. I mean it, Molina. Do not fucking test me.”
A small smirk plays at the corner of Julian’s lips. He nods at the chips that are currently scattered all over the floor.
I straighten, picking a nonexistent lint off my shoulder. “Keep them.”
Like I said, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about the money. But her? Off-fucking-limits.
1 ? Princess.
2 ? Oh my God.
3 ? You know you love it when I call you Princess.