Chapter 7
R euben’s fingers fiddled with the edge of a poker chip as he watched Dmitrii work the room like a conductor before his orchestra.
At the first table, Dmitrii clasped an aging oligarch’s shoulder, murmuring something that made the man’s bodyguards shift their weight. Three steps brought him to a Chinese investment banker, where he bowed, speaking in fluid Mandarin that drew appreciative nods. The poker room staff parted before him like water around a stone, eyes downcast, hands clasped behind their backs.
Reuben watched it all, remembering how Dmitrii had changed his act each time they met. Like a theater performer switching masks, Dmitrii played whatever part he thought would get what he wanted. Now, as their eyes met across the room, Dmitrii’s smile told Reuben another show was about to start.
As Dmitrii approached, his grey eyes sharp and assessing beneath the carefully styled dark hair, Reuben was struck again by how different he was from Nikon. He wasn’t quite as tall as Nikon, but his presence demanded attention all the same. Although Reuben suspected that had more to do with careful cultivation than natural charisma.
The first night Reuben walked into Dmitrii’s domain was all business. Dmitrii watched him from behind one-way glass during what was obviously a staged poker game, then brought him to an office designed to intimidate. Dmitrii’s interest then had been immediate. Not quite a cold distance, but the focused attention of someone who had already decided what they wanted.
During his second visit to Dmitrii’s poker rooms, everything changed. Instead of watching from afar, that time around Dmitrii watched him from the rail like a scientist studying something new under a microscope. His questions dug deeper: How did Reuben read people so well? What made him leave finance? Where did he learn to play like that?
That night, Dmitrii kept a respectful distance. But his eyes never left Reuben, taking in every move, every gesture, every word.
However, tonight felt different. Tonight, Dmitrii kept getting too close. He’d turned from cold businessman to intimate friend, telling stories about his past, acting like someone who really understood Reuben. But everything still felt planned, like a trap being set. Dmitrii was a spider, and his web was made of quiet words and careful touches, all designed to draw Reuben in closer.
“You’re playing better than when you first came here.” Dmitrii was now seated next to Reuben, so close their arms almost touched. It was rare to see the poker room owner playing at his own tables. But, apparently, tonight Dmitrii had made an exception. Dmitrii made a small gesture, and a server appeared right away with his drink; gin, neat. “But then again, maybe you’ve always been good at reading people.”
Reuben’s jaw tightened. He stared at the table, watching the dealer’s quick, steady hands. “Just luck, I guess.”
“Luck?” Dmitrii’s laugh drew every eye in the room before they quickly looked away. “No, I don’t think so. Nikon wouldn’t waste his time on someone who relies on luck.”
Reuben’s shoulders dropped, copying the way losing players looked when they were about to fold. At Nikon’s name, Reuben fought the smile that threatened to creep onto his face. Instead, he made a show of letting his mouth twist into a practiced frown. He moved his chair back a bit in a show of irritation, letting Dmitrii think his plan of needling Reuben was beginning to work.
The game progressed, and with each hand of poker played, Reuben tracked the patterns emerging between the different players sat at the table. The way Mr. Jiahao’s bets aligned perfectly with Yev’s calls. How Luka ‘Lucky Boy’s’ losses seemed choreographed, building toward something larger.
“You can see it, can’t you?” Dmitrii’s voice dropped, his lips barely moving. He paused between each word like a man stepping through a minefield. “How they all move together? Nikon has you just dealing cards, but you see so much more.”
“We’ve been through this.” Reuben’s fingers pressed against his temple, mimicking the tension headache he’d watched countless losing players display. “I’m content where I am.”
“Are you?” Dmitrii reached for his drink, his path to the glass drifting across Reuben’s wrist. His fingertips lingered there a moment too long. “Or is that what Nikon has convinced you to be?”
The touch sent ice through Reuben’s veins. He glanced up at Dmitrii, whose perfectly styled hair didn’t shift an inch as he bent closer. Reuben pulled his hand back, letting it slip beneath the table. His mind raced, cataloging their every interaction up until now; the way Dmitrii sat too close, the lingering looks, the soft voice.
This had moved beyond a man just looking to recruit for his organization.
Dmitrii leaned back in his chair, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Nikon wasn’t always so...” His lips curved into something between a smile and a sneer. “ Possessive . Back in the day, he shared quite well with others.”
Reuben’s collar all of a sudden felt too tight. He kept his hands still, refusing to show any discomfort that would satisfy Dmitrii. There was more behind his words, implications he wanted Reuben to catch.
“Did he tell you about our scene back then? Such a small world for men like us in those days.” Dmitrii’s eyes caught the low light, reflecting it like polished metal. “The same few parties, the same private clubs. We couldn’t help but cross paths. We shared the same... tastes .” His lip curled. “Sometimes even the same men.”
Reuben’s chest tightened. The cards in front of him blurred until he made himself breathe slowly. He’d known Nikon had a past, had shared his bed with many others before him. But hearing the details from Dmitrii’s smirking lips, each casual reference to their shared history struck an unexpected nerve...
“Your point?” The words scraped past his teeth.
“My point?” Dmitrii’s shoulder lingered against Reuben’s as he reached across to place a bet, his movements slower than necessary. His eyes gleamed as he watched Reuben’s reaction. “People change. Or perhaps they simply show their true nature over time. Nikon was always territorial with his favorites.” He paused, letting the words hang there. “The jealousy, the control...” Another pause. “It’s what drove most of them away in the end.”
A player across the table coughed, and Reuben took the chance to look at his cards. He didn’t need to — he knew them by heart from the moment they hit the table. But going through the motions helped steady his racing thoughts.
The thing was, he could see what Dmitrii was doing. Every word chosen to plant seeds of doubt. Every casual touch designed to provoke a reaction. Even the careful construction of intimacy in how he leaned close.
It was all a charming manipulation. The kind that had probably worked for Dmitrii countless times before.
And yet...
The image of Nikon rose in his mind. Not the crime boss others feared, but the man who made him coffee every morning, exactly how he liked it. Who watched him with soft eyes across the kitchen counter, who kissed his temple before leaving for work. The man who had never once asked Reuben to be someone he wasn’t.
Dmitrii signaled for another drink. “He’s different with you, though, isn’t he? Nikon. More... invested.” His voice dropped lower. “More afraid of losing you.”
Reuben shrugged one shoulder, spreading his cards in a lazy fan. “It’s not that serious between us.” His heart pounded against his ribs even as he kept his voice light, dismissive. The lie tasted like bile on his tongue. “We have an arrangement that works for us both.”
“An arrangement ?” Interest sparked in Dmitrii’s eyes. “How... modern of him.”
“People change, like you said.” Reuben placed a bet, watching as Mr. Jiahao matched his bet too quickly. Just like the last three hands. Just like Yev’s perfectly timed calls. “Were the clubs different back then? More private?”
Something flickered in Dmitrii’s eyes. “They were more... intimate. Everyone who mattered passed through, eventually.” He swirled his drink, studying Reuben’s profile. “I knew them all. Still do.” he paused to take a quick sip. “It’s amazing what people reveal at a poker table when they think no one’s watching their patterns.”
Reuben’s grip tightened on his cards. He watched the money move around the table, seeing the real story behind each bet. When these men put money down, they weren’t just playing poker. They were paying debts. Trading favors. And Dmitrii was taking notes on it all, saving every secret for later.
Another round of cards. Another exchange of meaningless pleasantries.
Around the table, players made small talk in-between hands of poker while Reuben wordlessly watched them play. Dmitrii leaned over to Mr. Jiahao, whispering something that made the man offer a hesitant smile. Then he turned to Luka, smacking him on the shoulder like an old friend, while Luka’s hands shook as he placed his bet. Dmitrii kept up his smooth act. Every smile and touch planned out like moves in a game.
He was nothing like Nikon.
Ten minutes later, after working his way around the table, Dmitrii’s attention settled back on Reuben, studying him with fresh interest.
“You know, you’re not what I expected,” Dmitrii said.
“No?” Reuben met his gaze directly for the first time that night.
Reuben’s thoughts once again drifted back to Nikon. One of the things he loved about Nikon was that he’d never expected Reuben to be anything other than what he was.
“You’ve gone very quiet,” Dmitrii said, moving closer. His strong sandalwood cologne made Reuben want to pull away.
“Nah, just thinking about what you said earlier.” Reuben’s voice was steady, his face relaxed as he met Dmitrii’s eyes. In his mind, everything became clear. Dmitrii was fake, all for show. And now that he saw this, he could guess what Dmitrii would do next.
“Oh?” Dmitrii lit up with interest.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about.” Reuben stacked up his chips and stood up. He wanted Dmitrii to think his plan was working. Let him believe he had made Reuben doubt Nikon.
“Leaving so soon?”
“I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue. “But I’d like to hear more about the old days. Next time?”
Fifteen minutes later, having cashed in his chips, Reuben walked outside, the cool night air feeling fresh on his face after the stuffy poker room. His phone buzzed; probably Nikon checking up on him. Again.
A moment’s hesitation, then Reuben answered the call.