Chapter 5
I n Dmitrii Miroslav’s experience, people fell into two categories: those searching for exits and those hunting for opportunities. Reuben Hoyt did both at once, and that fascinated him.
Now he understood why Nikon Matvei was so obsessed with this man.
Behind the one-way glass of his observation room, Dmitrii tracked Reuben’s careful assessment of the poker room below. Sharp eyes swept the area, seemingly mapping every detail; from the positioning of the security cameras to the private alcoves with their heavy curtains. Not a single glance wasted.
The corner of Dmitrii’s mouth lifted. “Our guest has arrived,” he murmured, his breath barely ghosting the glass.
Weeks of careful planning had culminated in this moment: a whispered rumor about Miroslav’s exclusive games, a casual mention from James Donovan about the stakes. And then finally, the formal invitation delivered through one of Nikon’s own lieutenants, who was secretly paid off by Dmitrii to do so.
And now, watching Reuben’s calm navigation of the space below, Dmitrii savored the satisfaction of a well-laid trap.
His sources had revealed the truth: Reuben was far more than Nikon’s latest plaything, no matter what the rumors claimed. He was a masterpiece of control and observation. The way he studied the dealer, (one of Dmitrii’s most trusted men, placed there specifically for tonight), proved it. The fraction of a second longer that his gaze lingered as he approached the table would have gone unnoticed by most. But not by Dmitrii.
Reuben’s steps faltered for a split second, drawing Dmitrii’s attention. That tiny break revealed everything... Reuben had noticed something wrong with the table arrangement. Not enough to drive him away, but enough to sharpen his already keen focus.
“Let’s see how you handle this, clever boy.” Dmitrii’s breath fogged the glass as he watched Reuben take his seat.
The other players at the table were all regulars, carefully briefed on their roles. The businessman from Hong Kong who always played with his wedding ring. The oil magnate who telegraphed his bluffs through a twitch in his left eye. The London financier who got sloppy after his third scotch.
Reuben settled into his seat as his gaze swept over each one, lingering just long enough to catalog each player without being obvious about it. His fingers drummed once on the table’s green felt surface; the only outward sign of his heightened alertness.
The first few hands played out exactly as Dmitrii had orchestrated. His plants lost and won in the exact pattern he’d specified, building a false sense of their playing styles. But Reuben wasn’t buying it. The slight tilt of his head, the way his fingers stilled completely when the Hong Kong businessman made his tell too obvious; Reuben was assembling the pieces.
A knock at the door pulled Dmitrii’s attention away from the scene below. “Everything is prepared in your office, sir.”
“Perfect.” He straightened his silk tie, though it needed no adjustment. “Have him brought up in exactly five minutes. And make sure Vass knows to fold on the next hand, no matter what cards he’s holding.”
Through the glass, Reuben had just won his first significant pot. His smile was perfect; gracious but reserved. Just enough of a grin to avoid bruising the egos of the other players. But Dmitrii noted how those green eyes flickered toward the mirrored wall, like a chess player sensing the presence of a grandmaster behind the scenes.
“Oh, you are good.” Dmitrii’s lips curved into a half-smile as he chuckled. “So very good. No wonder Nikon keeps you confined to dealing cards. He knows exactly what he has.”
The next hand played out precisely as planned. Vass folded despite holding a full house, and Reuben’s eyes narrowed just a touch. He was catching on faster than expected. Most poker players would be too caught up in their winning streak to notice the subtle wrongness of their opponents’ plays.
A soft tap at the door. “Sir? It’s time.”
Dmitrii gave one final look through the glass, watching as Reuben collected his chips. “Send Avdey to escort him up.”
In his office, Dmitrii positioned himself behind his antique mahogany desk. The room was designed to impress with windows overlooking the city, and curated art pieces that spoke of old money and refined taste. But the true power lay in the subtle details: the desk positioned so visitors would have the glare of the setting sun in their eyes, and the chair across from him set just low enough to force them to look up.
The door opened, and Reuben entered the room. Up close, Reuben was even more intriguing to Dmitrii; sharp cheekbones and full lips adding to his allure, hair falling just so across his forehead.
Yet, it was those eyes that held Dmitrii’s attention - keen and calculating as they took in every detail of the room while his expression remained perfectly neutral. Handsome and brilliant all in one package... no wonder Nikon kept him so close.
“Mr. Hoyt.” Dmitrii remained seated, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Thank you for accepting my invitation. Please, sit.”
Reuben moved to the chair. “Mr. Miroslav. I must admit, I’m curious about the elaborate setup downstairs.”
A laugh escaped Dmitrii’s lips, genuine amusement mixed with something hungrier. “Straight to the point. How refreshing.” He leaned forward, studying the younger man’s face. “Tell me, how long did it take you to spot the tells were manufactured?”
“About three hands.” A slight edge colored Reuben’s tone. “Though I’m sure you already knew that, watching from above.”
“Very good.” Dmitrii rose, moving to the bar cart near the window. “Drink? I have an excellent bottle of 25.”
“No, thank you.” Reuben remained seated, but his eyes tracked Dmitrii’s movements. “I prefer to keep my head clear when discussing business.”
“Business?” Crystal clinked against crystal as Dmitrii poured himself two fingers of scotch. “Who said anything about business? Perhaps I simply wanted to meet the man who’s captured Nikon Matvei’s attention so thoroughly.”
Something flickered in Reuben’s eyes, too quick to read. “Then you’ve wasted both our times. I’m just a dealer in his poker rooms.”
Dmitrii paused a moment to take a sip from his glass. “Now that,” Dmitrii returned to his desk, savoring the burn of the scotch, “is the first lie you’ve told tonight. We both know you’re far more than that.” He set his glass down, leaning forward. “The question is, why does someone with your talents waste time dealing cards?”
“I enjoy my work.” Reuben’s fingers stilled completely on the armrest. “The pay is good. And the hours suit me.”
“The pay is insulting for someone of your capabilities.” Dmitrii’s voice dropped lower, more intimate. “I’ve seen how you read people, Reuben. How you notice things, things many others would miss. You’re wasted dealing cards to rich idiots.”
A slight shift in Reuben’s position. It was barely perceptible, but telling. “And what would you suggest instead?”
“Partnership.” Dmitrii let the word dangle in the air for a beat before continuing. “Real partnership, not the kept-boy arrangement you have with Nikon. Your skills, combined with my resources...” He spread his hands, encompassing the opulent office. “The possibilities are endless.”
“That’s quite an offer, considering you’ve only watched me play poker for an hour.” Reuben’s tone remained neutral, but his eyes had sharpened to razor points.
“Oh, but I’ve been watching you much longer than that.” Dmitrii smiled, lifting his glass in a mock toast. “The port deal a few months ago, for instance. It was quite impressive how you spotted the customs officer’s involvement just from his body language.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Dmitrii caught his mistake. Reuben’s eyes flickered–a brief, sharp movement that betrayed his mind connecting the dots. Only Grigorii’s inner circle had been present for that operation. Which meant Dmitrii had just revealed he had eyes inside the eldest Matvei’s organization.
Dmitrii kept his smile in place, but inwardly cursed his eagerness to impress. Heat prickled along the back of his neck when he realized that he’d revealed too much, too soon. And Reuben’s slightly shifted posture told him the younger man had caught on to it as well.
“Well.” Reuben’s voice remained neutral, but the single word carried layers of meaning. “You seem very informed about the Matvei’s.”
“Information is power.” Dmitrii waved his hand dismissively, though his mind raced to recover from his earlier slip. “But we’re getting off track. I’m more interested in your future than in your past.”
“My future is with the Matvei family.”
“Your future is being wasted.” Dmitrii set his glass down with more force than intended. “Nikon keeps you dealing cards because he’s afraid of your potential, afraid of losing control. He sees you as something to be protected, and not a partner to be empowered.”
A dangerous glint flashed in Reuben’s eyes. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with Nikon.”
“I know enough.” Dmitrii leaned forward, dropping his voice. “I know he clips your wings while claiming to protect you. I know he keeps you away from real power while pretending it’s for your own good.” He paused, studying Reuben’s face. “I know what it’s like to be underestimated, to have your talents dismissed as dangerous rather than valuable.”
Reuben stood, straightening his jacket. “Thank you for the game, Mr. Miroslav. And for the... enlightening conversation.”
“Think about my offer.” Dmitrii remained seated, shrugging a single shoulder. “You know where to find me when you’re ready to spread those wings.”
At the door, Reuben paused. “A word of advice, Mr. Miroslav? Next time you stage a poker game, tell your plants to be less obvious. That wedding ring tell was particularly heavy-handed.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click. Dmitrii stared at it for a long moment before allowing himself a genuine smile. He reached for his phone, sending a quick text to his security team to ensure Reuben’s safe departure. No need to spook him with obvious surveillance.
Everything had gone exactly as planned. Well, almost everything.
That slip about the port could prove problematic, but the seed had been planted. Reuben would think about their conversation, about the possibilities Dmitrii had dangled before him. And next time, Dmitrii would be more careful about revealing his sources.
He moved back to the observation window, watching Reuben’s departure from the poker room below. Such a fascinating acquisition Nikon had made, and such a mistake to keep him confined to dealing cards.
“Until next time, clever boy.” Dmitrii’s breath fogged the glass one final time. “Until next time.”