Chapter 4 #2
Each hand was executed flawlessly, knowing whether she should hit or stay.
She put every other player to shame at her table.
There was no doubt Genevieve would be moving on to the second round, where the number of players dropped from fifty-one to ten.
After that, it’d go down to two players in the third round.
Expecting she would be the victor of the third round, she would have the option to partake in one final hand to substantially increase her winnings or walk away.
After the first round concluded, a fifteen-minute break commenced.
I couldn’t keep the distance between us any longer.
The other five players at her table left to mourn their losses or lingered amongst the crowd to witness the remainder of the tournament.
The dealer looked like he was going to go take a much needed piss as he scurried toward the bathrooms, but there she remained, swirling the straw in her nearly empty cocktail glass.
Striding halfway across the ballroom floor, I snapped my fingers at a waitress and grabbed an Old Fashioned for each of us.
With each step closer to her, the thumping in my chest seemed to echo louder in my ears.
I wasn’t sure that there was any blood for my heart to pump as I closed in on my Little Spade, since most of it seemed to be trapped in my engorged lower extremity.
I took it upon myself to come up behind her, leaning over her shoulder as I lowered one of the beverages before her as an offering of my hospitality. My head dipped down so my mouth could murmur into her ear. “Looks like you could use a refill.”
There was no shame as I took this chance to drop my gaze to admire the swells of her breasts from this angle.
She straightened in her seat, startled by my sudden presence. Turning her head slightly to get a look at me, her striking blue eyes reflected how on guard she was.
Guilty conscience, perhaps? Or maybe my charm is that overwhelming.
Giving an amused smile, I wiggled the glass I held out for her, letting the large cube of ice clink against the inside as a gentle reminder of my offering.
As she accepted the drink, she turned her face away from me. “Thanks. Looks like you could use a new pickup line.”
Ouch.
I eased into the seat next to her, drawing in a mouthful of the slightly bitter booze from my own glass. She was going to have to do better than that if she thought a weak insult would deter me. Coming from her? It spurred me on like fucking foreplay.
“I thought I’d come by to let you know how nice that dress looks on you.” A pause. “Since I’m the one who picked it out.”
My eyes blatantly dropped to unapologetically soak in the sight of the curve of her body down past her hips and over her thighs.
There was a brief hesitation as she glanced in my direction, and recognition of who I was flashed across her face. As quickly as she dropped the veil, it was yanked back up as she shrugged with indifference.
“Don’t give yourself too much credit, Mr. Reynard. I can pull off any dress. It’s not difficult,” she said with the confidence of a thousand goddamn peacocks.
She wanted to get snarky with me? Two could play that game.
“So can I.” I smirked like the devil himself. “I expect to pull yours off onto my floor later.”
Her lips parted as her jaw dropped slightly. There it was, the moment when she realized she was playing with someone in the major leagues. I wasn’t like other guys; I didn’t give up once I knew what or who I wanted. And what I wanted—no, what I needed—was her.
Genevieve set her drink down on the table and leaned in close. Close enough that the scent of her perfume infiltrated each of my senses. Fuck, she smelled like a goddamn garden full of amaryllis, just like the ones I had up in her room right now.
“Keep. Fucking. Dreaming,” she quietly commanded.
That filthy mouth of hers deserved a good washing out with my cock.
Her eyes didn’t shy away from mine. She was looking for something.
When I felt her power lightly tapping at the door of my own, I smiled in delight. It was second nature for me to keep a protective wall up all around me so that nosy people like my Little Spade couldn’t steal a reading.
I allowed her to continue trying while I feigned ignorance of her intentions.
It was nearly comical how underdeveloped her talent was in comparison to mine.
Maybe someday I would teach her a thing or three about being a skilled seer.
Until then? I’d watch as the kitten tried to pounce on the tail of the lion.
After failing to breach my metaphysical walls, she abruptly pulled back, looking uncertain.
Oh, the sweet girl had no clue just how much power I was packing behind my defenses. I had been a Knight of Hell far longer than she had been alive, if she’d been honest about her age on the registration papers.
The temptation to give her a taste of the full strength of my powers was overwhelming, but I had to remind myself that she’d find out soon enough. Patience would be paramount to my ultimate reward.
Noticing all the dealers and players returning to their tables for the second round, I stood from my seat.
Capturing her hand with mine, in an affectionate gesture, I leaned over and pressed my lips to the top of her knuckles.
Despite the chaste contact, the lingering taste of her skin left me craving more.
When I reluctantly withdrew, my sleight of hand left a glittering diamond bracelet clasped around her narrow wrist.
I stepped back, holding her gaze. “It looks like I’ve taken up all my time with you for now. Best of luck…Genevieve.”
We both knew that she didn’t need any amount of good fortune to make it to the end of this tournament. But the luck would be all mine when she did.