Chapter 41 #2
Of course, she had to let go of my hand and step forward confidently, extending her hand to him. “Rose.” She introduced herself with a charming smile. “It’s nice to meet you . . .”
“Brandon.” He shook her hand firmly, holding it longer than I thought was necessary.
“Is Mason here?” I asked, cutting straight to the point.
He turned to me with a smirk on his lips.
“Ah, Diego mentioned you need to deal with him. He’ll be here soon.
In the meantime, you’re obviously a lucky guy,” he said, his gaze falling to Rosalie as if to highlight my luck.
“Let’s see how lucky you are at cards.” He gestured to the table, where a dealer and three other players were waiting for us.
“I won’t be playing,” I said.
“Perhaps your lady then? Come on—join the game. It’s just a friendly round of Texas Hold’em. It isn’t too serious.”
I glanced over at Rosalie, who nodded encouragingly. I remembered how good she was at the game. She could read people’s faces. Bluffing was like second nature to her, which I knew damn well.
“Quickly,” I said.
I followed Brandon to the table, where he introduced us to the others. There was Diego, a vigilant man with a serious expression and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was the owner of the place, a former boxer turned businessman, known for his fair offers when it came to laundering.
Next to him was Cade, a scrawny man with a sharp, calculating look. Cade was an accountant by trade and had a knack for the game. He was known for his ability to calculate odds and read situations.
And then there was Vito, a broad-shouldered man with a booming laugh that could be heard above the chaos of a crowded room. Vito was the muscle, a former enforcer who’d found a new calling in gambling.
Brandon took his seat, motioning for Rosalie to join. “Let’s get started,” he said. “It’s five hundred to buy in.”
Rosalie sat down, scanning the table and taking in every detail before she held her hand out to me, silently asking for the money. I didn’t think twice before handing over the cash for her buy-in, and she took it without a second thought.
She was calm, composed, and completely in her element.
The dealer—a quiet young man with quick fingers and a fake smile—shuffled the cards and began dealing. As the first round of betting started, I stood back, observing.
Brandon leaned back in his chair with a confident smile. “So, Max, how’s business?”
“Busy,” I replied. “Lots of moving parts.”
“I can imagine,” he said, his eyes flicking to Rosalie and then back to me. “Must be nice to have someone you can trust by your side.”
I nodded, not giving him the satisfaction of a deeper response.
The game progressed, each hand revealing more about the players. Diego played conservatively; Cade was cautious but calculated; and Vito was unpredictable, a wild card in every sense.
Rosalie, however, played with confidence, just like I remembered. She won small pots, lost a few hands strategically, and bluffed in a way that confused everyone, even me.
Just as the dealer began to shuffle for a new hand, the door to the back room opened, and Mason walked in. His eyes scanned the room, landing on me.
“Mason,” Diego said sternly. “Join us.”
Fucking finally.
He hesitated for a moment and then made his way over to the table, pulling up a chair. The atmosphere shifted. “What’s the game?” he asked.
“Texas Hold’em,” Brandon replied. “Buy-in is five hundred.”
Mason pulled out a crumpled wad of bills, handing it to the dealer. “I’m in.”
The dealer resumed shuffling, and the game continued. I stood back again, my eyes never leaving Mason. Rosalie played her hand with the same confidence as she had before, her eyes lifting to Mason every now and then, reading him just as she did the others.
Brandon checked, as did Diego and Cade. Vito pushed forward a thousand.
The table fell silent, all eyes on him.
Rosalie matched his bet. “Call.”
All eyes turned to Mason. He swallowed hard, his hand shaking slightly as he pushed his chips into his pot. He didn’t have the money to be playing. “Call.”
The dealer motioned for them to reveal their cards. Brandon had a pair of kings; Diego had two pairs with kings and jacks; and Cade had folded. Vito revealed a straight.
Rosalie laid her cards down—a full house, queens over tens. The table cheered for her, shocked she’d been able to trick them, but my eyes were on Mason.
He revealed his hand slowly, his face pale. A pair of sevens. He had nothing.
Rosalie smiled sweetly. “Sorry, boys. Looks like I’m the real winner here. Good luck walking away with your pride,” she said with a wink, knowing how much money Brandon had put into the bet.
She reached for the pot, but Mason grabbed her wrist tightly.
I snapped. “You’ll be taking your hands off my wife if you want to walk away with anything at all.”
The room fell silent at my threat. Mason looked up from the table, his eyes wide and cautious. He released Rosalie’s wrist, his hand trembling slightly.
“Max, listen,” he started.
“Take the money. It won’t really matter in the next few minutes.”
Mikhail and Lev moved in. They grabbed Mason by the arms, hauling him to his feet. He struggled, but their grips were strong.
I reached for Rosalie’s hand, feeling her soft, warm skin as she grabbed mine, leaving the crumpled bills behind.
The exit sign cast a red glow across her face before it was made blurry by the heavy smoke on the other side of the door.
I gently pulled Rosalie to the side. Her eyes widened in surprise.
“What the hell was that about?”
“I need that key now,” I said, holding out my hand, my voice low and urgent.
Rosalie raised an eyebrow. “What key?”
I absolutely did not have the time for this. “The one in your bra,” I whispered, leaning in closer, my breath grazing her ear. “Don’t play coy with me right now, Rosalie.”
“You’re no fun.”
“I’m plenty of fun,” I replied. “But right now, I need you to go with Sean. He’ll take you home.”
Behind me, I could hear Mason’s voice rising in anger, yelling at one of my men. His words were sharp, and they only served to piss me off further. I turned my attention back to Rosalie, who was watching me curiously.
“He’s really mad,” she observed, her eyes following Mason as he was taken out the back door.
With my patience wearing thin, I reached forward, my fingers slipping into the neckline of her dress. Her breath hitched slightly as I felt for the metal of the key against her soft, warm skin. Quickly—although it happened so slowly in my mind—I pulled the key out.
Rosalie’s eyes flashed with defiance, her posture stiffening. “Fine, take your key,” she said, her tone sharp.
“I will, and you can take that attitude with you and walk to the door,” I replied.
“Didn’t I tell you to never comment on a woman’s attitude?”
“Did you? I hardly remember half the things you say to me, since you run your mouth so damn much.”
Her mouth fell slightly. Had I hit a nerve? What nerve would that be?
“You know, you’re a lot less charming when you’re angry,” she said, her voice steady, but she didn’t seem so certain of her words.
“And you’re a lot more trouble than you’re worth sometimes,” I shot back. “I have gray hair because of you.”
I watched her eyes fall slowly, analyzing everything, from the top of my head to the bottom of my shoes. She seemed offended by my words, as if they’d bypassed every wall she’d put up to keep herself from falling for me.
“Yeah, makes you look just like your papa.”
She wanted to kill me—of that, I was absolutely certain. The fire that burned deep in her eyes spoke volumes. Yet as her attention lingered, it drifted not just over my eyes, but ever so slightly to my lips too. Did she want to kill me or kiss me?
I had a feeling it wasn’t the latter.
“That’s not a compliment.”
“No? I think he’s quite handsome.”
“Rose,” I warned.
“Oh, I’m ‘Rose’ to you now?” she taunted, arching a brow with that infuriating attitude I wasn’t allowed to comment on.
“I don’t have the time nor the energy to deal with you right now.”
“And yet here we are.” Her tone softened. “You with your key, and me with my attitude.”
“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” I turned to Sean, who’d been silently watching. “Sean, take Rosalie home.”
He gave me a curt nod, and I turned to go deal with Mason.
I watched as Mikhail and Lev dragged Mason into a dimly lit back room, his protests growing weaker with each step.
The room was almost empty, with just a single table and a few chairs, but it served its purpose.
I followed behind them, my mind already turning over the possibilities of what he might tell me.
Mikhail and Lev threw Mason into a chair, standing guard on either side of him. Mason’s face was pale, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. His eyes darted around the room.
“I’ll tell you what, Mason,” I began, my voice calm but carrying an edge, “Mikhail will put a bullet into the chamber, then I’ll count to six.”
“Why one bullet?” he asked in a panic.
“That gives you five chances to be honest with me.”
Mikhail spun the cylinder, the metallic cling bouncing off the walls. Mason swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as Mikhail did exactly as I said and aimed his gun at Mason.
“One,” I said, looking directly into his eyes. I gave him a moment to respond, but I got nothing in return.
I gave Mikhail a look, then the sound of his trigger echoed in the silent room. Mason flinched, his eyes wide with terror, but still, he said nothing.
“Two,” I continued.
Mason’s breath hitched, and he gripped the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Please, Max. I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand,” he stammered.
Bored and unconvinced, I looked at Mikhail, and he pulled the trigger once more. An empty click filled the silence.
“Three,” I said, ignoring his plea.
“Fuck, man,” Mason blurted out, desperation lacing his tone.