Chapter 24 Ace
Ace
Anytime I walk into a familiar casino, I always get a weird sense of déjà vu.
Sometimes it’s euphoric if I left with a fat stack of cash.
Sometimes a little bitter if it was a bad night, and I lost. This time, however, that same sense of déjà vu is followed by a dull ache in my cheek from getting smacked around, and a wave of anticipation in my lower gut at the potential of seeing Kingston again.
Walking straight to the blackjack tables, I pull out five hundred bucks to start my night.
I always keep my extra money tucked away in my backpack for when I need to cash in a bit more.
It makes me look like a gambling addict instead of a strategic counter who’s planning on sticking around for the evening.
With puckered lips and a platinum blonde wig, I settle into my persona for the evening––a wannabe grunge rockstar who’s looking to score some cash for her drug addiction.
My eyes are rimmed with thick charcoal-colored eyeliner as I watch the cards being dealt.
A few hands later, I’m practically yelling at the poor beginner to my left, feeling guilty as hell for making her feel bad, but I can’t break character.
“Fuck this shit. You’re not supposed to hit on a sixteen, Lucinda. Ever heard of basic strategy?”
The poor girl’s cheeks are on fire as the dealer hands her another card, resulting in her total number being twenty-three.
She busted.
With a sigh, the girl gets up to leave, and I don’t stop her.
I might’ve been harsh, but I wasn’t lying. If she doesn’t know basic strategy, she’s practically handing the casinos her hard-earned cash, and they don’t deserve it.
“Basic strategy, huh?” the dealer quips, grabbing my attention.
Casually, I lean back in my chair, giving him a bit of attitude while still keeping the count in my head.
“Yeah. Basic strategy. You got a problem with that?” Basic strategy isn’t illegal. Hell, it’s almost common knowledge at the tables, so it’s not like I’m divulging any sensitive information.
“Nope.”
We stay this way, mainly in silence with the occasional shout of profanities from my mouth when I lose a big hand until the count starts to get hot and I clean up like a seasoned pro.
When the chair squeaks on my left, I look to see the asshole who hit me the last time I was here and lose the triumphant smile I’d been wearing seconds before.
What the hell?
I’ve never been caught, and now it’s twice by the same gorilla? I thought Kingston would’ve known to call off his dogs, but maybe the idiot doesn’t recognize me.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to come with me.”
Narrowing my gaze, I bite out, “I don’t think so.”
I’d rather get thrown out the front door than be taken to the basement again by this jerk.
With a curse on the tip of my tongue, I scratch the top of my wig and consider pulling it off for a split second before restraining myself.
Although, part of me wishes I could reveal my true identity because I’m pretty sure if the pit boss knew it was me, he’d be quaking in his boots.
However, when he subtly tilts his head behind him, my gaze follows only to connect with a satisfied looking Kingston standing near the back wall. The heat in his eyes is scorching as he folds his arms over his broad chest and smirks from his partially hidden view near an empty corridor.
Sneaky bastard.
“Are you going to cooperate?” the pit boss pleads.
“Yup.”
Swallowing, I stand from my chair and subtly tug on the ripped Rolling Stones crop top I’m wearing in hopes of covering the exposed skin on my stomach and back.
I’d been fine with the outfit when I walked into the Charlette, but now that I’m mere inches away from this guy, I wish I hadn’t dressed so vulnerably.
With a sullen expression, the pit boss raises his hand to guide me where I need to go. When his palm brushes against the bare skin along my lower back, I flinch away, and I’m surprised when he drops it back to his side.
“This way, ma’am.”
Shocked that he didn’t take advantage of making me feel uncomfortable, I glance over my shoulder to see his face an ashy gray color.
“Everything okay?”
I don’t know why I’m asking. The guy’s an ass.
“Of course.” His gaze shifts back to the corridor where I know I’ll find Kingston. Curiously, I follow his subtle glance to see the guy I can’t stop thinking about practically made from stone. His anger is almost palpable from all the way over here.
I nearly stumble from its intensity, but the pit boss urges me forward.
“Go on.”
With a grimace, I do as I’m told and scurry toward the same hallway I’d been guided to when I met Kingston for the first time.
When I reach Kingston’s side, he presses the elevator button then leans forward and whispers something to the pit boss while completely ignoring that I exist. My ears strain to hear what’s said.
Even though the slot machines are loud, and Kingston is talking quietly, I can still make out his comment.
“Touch her bare flesh again, and you lose a hand. Understand, Charles?”
“Yes, sir,” the pit boss, who’s apparently named Charles, mumbles. “It won’t happen again.”
With a cold, hard nod, Kingston turns to me and clearly dismisses Charles with the sight of his back before gently running the tips of his fingers along the hem of my shirt and across my belly button.
“This,”—my stomach quivers under his touch—“is a new look.”
“You said you like skin.”
“Did I say I liked it when you showed it around others?” he counters, referring to the pit boss from seconds ago.
Pursing my lips, I reply, “I’m going to ignore the caveman comment that deserves a knee to your balls.” He smirks as I continue. “Do you like Punk Rock Ace?”
Lazily, he scans me up and down before tugging on a blonde strand of hair. “Blonde suits you. It’s different, though. I can’t decide what I prefer.”
Of course, blonde suits me. It’s my natural hair color, but he doesn’t need to know that. I open my mouth to give him a snarky reply about his barbaric views on my ensemble when the elevator dings behind us, interrupting our innocent flirting.
He guides me inside with his hand pressed against my lower back.
The heat of his palm scorches me as I follow his orders and step inside.
We’ve only been together for a couple of minutes, but I can’t help but notice how he hasn’t been able to stop touching me since the moment I was escorted into the hallway where he was waiting for me.
Whether it was my stomach, my hair, or my back, he’s kept me close.
And I kind of like it. It makes me feel powerful.
Strong. Like maybe one day, I just might be able to own this man the way he owns everyone else around him.
But that’s scary thinking for a girl like me. I don’t want things. I’ve never allowed myself to. Yet, as I glance behind me at the man who’s stolen all my thoughts, a few dreams start to take hold.
Shaking off the desire that floods through me at something I can’t have, I quip, “Then I guess it’s a good thing my hair color isn’t up to you, now is it?”
The elevator is lined with mirrors on all sides, and it gives me a perfect view of the man who’s way too far out of my league.
His hair is mussed as if he’s run his fingers through it one too many times this evening, but his red tie is perfectly knotted around his neck, and his jaw looks freshly shaved.
But I bet it would still be prickly against my fingertips if I dared to turn around and brush them against it.
My hands itch to do exactly that, but by some miracle, I keep my arm at my side and my back pressed against his front.
“Careful,” he growls, leaning forward until I can feel his breath against the shell of my ear as he stands behind me. “If I decide I want something, I can be very persuasive.”
I watch him in the mirror-lined walls of the elevator. The power that emanates from him is almost enough to bring me to my knees, and my palms grow sweaty at the thought.
“Is that right?” I ask, holding his gaze through the reflection.
“Yeah.” With a slide of his hand against my waist, he spins me around then pins me between his groin and the cool wall behind me. “Would you like me to give you a demonstration?”
“For someone who rules with an iron fist, you’re quite accommodating to my wishes,” I murmur as his lips graze my ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth.
A soft moan escapes me while my eyes roll into the back of my head.
Shit, he’s talented. And he didn’t even do anything.
“Only with you,” he admits quietly. His fingers flex into my bare skin along my hips before releasing it. Stepping back, he continues talking like he didn’t just rock my world with the potential of another encounter like the night before. “So, did you get what you came for?”
My brows furrow. Uh, no?
“The money?” he clarifies with a tilted smirk.
“Oh.” That. “Umm, yeah. Although it feels a little weird to admit that to the casino owner.”
A deep laugh is pulled from him at my honesty, bringing a light blush to my cheeks. “If you didn’t tell the truth, I’d just call you out on it.”
My face scrunches up before agreeing with a roll of my eyes, “You’re probably right about that.”
“I’m always right,” he teases. “Were you able to work out your nerves? What had you feeling so anxious that you needed to call me in the first place?”
“No reason.”
“Lie. Tell me the truth. If I’m going to let you come in here and swindle money from my dealers, then you need to tell me why.”
“Let me swindle your dealers? My dear friend, I believe I’ve swindled them in the past without your permission. Just sayin’.”
“Truth.” He shakes his head. “But you asked to come to my casino earlier today, and I think it had more to do with seeing me than the loose rules I have for my blackjack tables.”
He’s right. Even though I hate to admit it to myself, let alone him, I can’t deny the truth. I wanted to see him. I just can’t decide how stupid I am for following through with it.