Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Lo
Lo couldn’t begin to express how relieved she was when Mayté walked into the suite. That feeling vanished at the sight of her best friend’s pinched face. “What happened?” Lo stood from the bed.
“I saw Alejandro.” Mayté whispered.
Lo closed the gap between them. “Did he do something to you?”
“We talked. I—I found out that he played the game in the past. When he lost, he was given the choice to work here or return to Milagro like Senor Vásquez, b-b-but—” She shuddered.
Lo pulled her close. “Please tell me.”
She breathed the words: “The house has his soul.”
“Wha … what does that mean?” Lo whispered.
“His feelings. Memories. Everything that makes him who he is!” Mayté covered her face with her hands and cried aloud, “There’s no good way out. The only way is to win.”
Lo stared as the words sank in. “Is … is it like that for everyone here?”
“Most likely.”
Lo rubbed her mouth. Dare she mention Mamá?
Mayté wouldn’t like it, but Lo couldn’t hold it in any longer.
She would just have to convince her that Mamá was here.
“There’s something I need to show you.” She scurried to the table and lifted the platter lid, revealing the untouched paella.
“This is what came. My mother’s favorite meal.
Made her special way, without the mussels.
Supposedly what I desired to eat most, but I hadn’t even been thinking of it. ”
Mayté opened her mouth, but Lo wasn’t done.
“The Banker brought it. And he tried to make me think she’s dead, but it must be a trick. The house must not want me to find her.”
Mayté’s face fell. “Lo.” Her voice was soft and regretful.
Lo’s heart plummeted. “You don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that. But are you sure the house isn’t just trying to fool you? It showed you your mother and almost made you miss the last round. Don’t you think it’s trying to distract you from winning?”
Mamá wasn’t just a distraction. Lo’s throat burned, and the angry heat spread all the way to the palms of her hands. “We’re using the house, so how can it be tricking us?”
“That’s exactly the problem, I think.” Mayté went on to explain her time with Alejandro and how the art supplies had suddenly transformed. “Alejandro said everything comes at a price, and it’s even steeper for those with bad intentions.”
“Our intentions are bad?” Lo asked with a frown.
“Well, we’re trying to gain an advantage, bend the rules, which means other people will die, or be damned.
I think the house is turning on us, if it hasn’t been toying with us from the very beginning.
It’s showing us illusions to distract us—” Mayté interrupted herself with a gasp.
“And now I think about it, it might be trying to mess with how we feel about each other.”
Lo shook her head. What did Mayté mean? She explained that, during the last game, the house made her think the croupiers were all cheering for Lo. “It was like it was trying to make me jealous.”
Lo bit back the urge to sarcastically ask if Mayté had always been jealous of her. But no, maybe Mayté was right. Maybe at this very moment the house was trying to make her resent her best friend.
Mayté was just trying to protect Lo’s feelings and keep her from getting her hopes up.
Right? Lo tried to subdue her anger. “Okay. We have to survive to win, and if that costs us something, we’ll just have to endure it.
In the end, it’ll be worth it. For the next round, we have to block out everything else and be ready for whatever the house tries to throw at us. Right?”
Mayté was supposed to agree. She was bold and determined, always recovering from setbacks, but this time her wide eyes filled with tears. She collapsed onto the bed. “But even if we survive this next round, I don’t think three people have ever won. I—I don’t think they can,” she whimpered.
“Mayté.” Lo sat next to her and put an arm around her.
A lump formed in her own throat. Was it true?
It couldn’t be. She wouldn’t let it be. “I spoke with the Banker.” She used the frill on her sleeve to dab at the tears on Mayté’s cheek.
“He came to the room and told me a bit about the game. He said any number of people can win, so long as they make it to the final round.” The lie slipped off her tongue, cool and smooth as sugared cream, yet something lurched in the depths of her stomach.
She had lied many times. To her father, her suitors, and many others.
Never to Mayté.
Not until Fortune’s Kiss.
But this was different than those other lies. This was a good lie. One purely for Mayté’s sake. One that would keep her safe. If Mayté thought there was hope, she would keep fighting. Because the only sure way to lose was giving up.
“That’s what we have to focus on,” Lo urged. “Making it to the end.”
“Okay.” Mayté rubbed the tears from her face. “One step at a time. I can do that.”
Good. Lo took her best friend’s hands and led her to the table. “We should eat before the next round.”
As they ate, they discussed strategies. Different ways they could will the house to tilt the game in their favor without being obvious.
In the end, they decided it was best to see if they could bend the game so that the players were able to choose their own wagers.
That way, they could all keep their wagering low.
Even better would be making it so none of them was chosen for a challenge. That way, there was no risk of losing at all. It was bolder, perhaps riskier, but it was worth a try.
With that resolved, the two left the room arm and arm. Throughout the entire walk and elevator ride, Lo repeated the same mantra in her head.
Allow everyone to make their own wagers. Don’t challenge me, Mayté, or Carlos.
Soon they reached the gaming den. Everyone else was already seated.
Mayté made a beeline for the two seats next to Dominic.
He must have saved the seats for them. As Lo sat, she noticed a middle-aged man with a mustache staring at them.
She didn’t know who he was, nor did she particularly care.
He wasn’t a noble, and he didn’t seem like a threat.
He would probably die in the next round.
“Ah, a pleasure you can join us, senorita.” The man folded his arms. “Not that I should be surprised that you’re the one holding all this up.”
Excuse me? Lo bit back her words. The man hadn’t addressed her, but instead Mayté, who bristled and tensed her jaw. Did they know each other?
“Who is he?” Lo whispered.
“The asshole that wouldn’t sell me supplies for my commission,” Mayté said loudly.
Everyone else looked between the man and Mayté. The man’s left eye twitched and his golden-brown face turned a bright scarlet, bordering on purple.
“I’m not surprised you had to come here after being so stingy,” Mayté continued. “Treating customers like that, people probably took their business elsewhere.”
“So, he’s the reason I didn’t get my commission?” Dominic blurted.
“Enough,” Mayté said. “I can handle this myself.” Even though she had scolded him, Dominic’s lips tugged into a grin. Mayté returned a secret smile.
Envy simmered inside Lo, tiny bubbles pricking against her heart.
Since when was she an outsider between these two?
She squeezed her hands together and tried to focus on her desires for this round, her mantra.
Her gaze drifted to Carlos, who sat next to the shopkeeper.
He flashed a small smile. Her face warmed.
She had almost forgotten about the quick kiss they had shared when he was drunk. Did Carlos remember it? He looked much better now. His cheeks were no longer red, and his eyes no longer seemed unfocused.
If he did remember—she bit her lip—had he enjoyed it as much as she had?
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. But it wasn’t Misterioso. Instead, it was the burly grump from the elevator ride that morning.
The shopkeeper groaned in disdain and checked his pocket watch.
Mayté quickly glanced away. She looked like she was going to be sick. Every fiber in Lo went on high alert. Even the hairs on her arms stood on end. Why was Mayté so frightened of him? Lo kept her eye on him as he rounded the table like a caged jaguar.
“Could you sit down, senor?” the shopkeeper grouched.
The man ignored him and pointed. First at Mayté, then at Carlos. “Robles’s kids. I knew you looked familiar.”
Mayté froze. Her eyes were wide. She looked absolutely panic-stricken.
He headed straight for her. “Your old man’s so pathetic, you both had to come here, hmm? Since you owe me a debt, maybe this is the place to collect what I’m owed.” His eyes were fixed on Mayté.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dominic started to get up, but Lo beat him.
“Who are you?” She stared at the man straight on. She wasn’t scared. He was nothing to her. “What do you want with my friend?”
“First off, linda.” He eyed her up and down. “The name is Rodrigo Domingo.”
Lo continued to stare, not even pretending to be impressed.
“Their pendejo father, José Robles, owes me a lot of money. Too much.” His face twisted. “Why else would I be here? But you see, Robles and I came to an agreement.” Rodrigo gestured at Mayté. “If he couldn’t come up with the coins, we’d take his daughter instead.”
Lo’s vision flashed red. This was one of the vaqueros Mayté had told her about. She would never have thought such a lowlife would be permitted to gamble in Fortune’s Kiss.
“I could get my money’s worth from her. Put her to work, and then—”
The rest of his words blurred together. Lo clenched her trembling fists and bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.
No. No. No. NO. Mayté wasn’t a piece of property to be sold off.
She was worth more than every gold coin in existence combined.
She could barely think straight, but she managed to growl out the only words that came to mind.
“If you so much as lay a finger on her—”
Rodrigo burst out laughing. “Then what will you do, carino?” He leaned closer.