Chapter 11
Poker Night
Kane
Ilook down at my phone and frown. It’s not late, but no one calls me at this hour unless it’s important.
“Mr. Robertson?”
“Yes.” My tone is clipped, already bracing for whatever bullshit is going on now.
“It’s Ren. There was a security issue, and the access code had to be changed about thirty minutes ago.”
I sit up a little straighter. “Why?”
He explains there was a problem with the door and the access code wouldn't work, so they reset it as a precaution. Seems harmless enough.
Still, something about it doesn’t sit right.
“Understood. Keep an eye on the system logs. If anything seems off, I want to know immediately.”
“You got it, sir.”
I hang up, clenching my jaw.
Glitches happen. Sure. But not with our system. Cam and I built it from the ground up. Well, mostly Cam, he’s the tech genius. I had the vision for what I wanted, and he made it happen. There’s no reason for an error like this.
I exhale through my nose, running a hand through my hair. Maybe I’m overthinking. Wouldn’t be the first time. Comes with the job and what can I say, paranoia pays the bills. But the last few days have been anything but predictable, and I don’t like the variables I can’t control.
Still, I let it go. For now.
It's poker night, which should be a decent enough distraction. And if I’m being honest, I could use the space. The conversation with Raven earlier was a mistake. Not because I didn’t enjoy it. The problem was my dick. It was hard the entire time.
She spent half the time insulting me, and yet every smartass comment had me picturing the look on her face as she delivered each blow, waiting to see if I’d bite.
I’m not entirely sure something isn’t wrong with me with how much I loved it.
I stand, rolling my shoulders out before heading for the bar. Time for a drink. Anything to get my head back where it needs to be.
I’ve always been good at reading people, it’s second nature. And Raven? She walks around like a little princess who always gets her way.
The truth is, I don’t think she could handle me. The things I'm into alone would probably send her running. Fast. And I don’t do careful. If she got a real glimpse into my life, she’d probably decide this little game we’ve been playing wasn’t worth it.
It doesn’t stop me from thinking about her, though. She’s in my head, taking up space she has no business occupying.
I look down at my dwindling pile of chips. I’ve already lost ?10,000 because I'm distracted as hell, even though my hand was a winning one.
The guys are eating it up because I never lose, and they know it.
“Listen, whatever’s going on, keep doing it. I finally made back some of the money I lost last time. Brittany will be thrilled, and maybe she’ll stop harassing me now.” Brandon grins as he leans back in his chair.
Looks like his engagement is going well if she’s already getting after him for losing money at our last game. Not that I blame her. He told her he was golfing. If she finds out he’s been lying about poker, he’s fucked.
“Are we not going to hang out with our two favorite girls tonight?” Tyler asks, casually tossing chips into the pot.
“No, Tyler. We are not going to hang out with them tonight,” I say flatly, giving him a pointed look. “There are far more pressing things than women, and right now, we’re busy. Besides, I plan on taking all your money tonight and winning mine back in the process.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I think about ignoring it. But then I wonder if it’s another message about the house. With a sigh, I pull it out to check.
It’s Raven.
I stare at the screen for a second, debating whether to reply. A smarter man would let it go. But then again, I like messing with her. And if I get the chance, I’m taking it.
If she knew the kinds of things I was thinking about doing to her, she’d probably never text me again.
Your Royal Highness: What are you up to tonight?
Me: Just cleaning house… What did you guys end up deciding to do?
So much for not replying.
Your Royal Highness: We’re dancing. Just getting a few drinks. I may or may not have already had one. Okay, maybe three.
Your Royal Highness: ... wait, you're cleaning?? Forgive me, but that’s not something I can imagine. Do I get proof?
I chuckle at her response. God, she’s something else when she’s had a few drinks. I can only imagine the trouble they're getting into. And of course, she’s demanding proof.
Me: You want me to send you a photo of my clean kitchen?
Or are you wanting a dirty photo of me cleaning?
Your Royal Highness: Ew. You're gross.
I hope your kitchen is a mess and it takes you hours to clean it.
I laugh out loud, drawing a few curious glances from the guys. Cam doesn’t even bother looking up, he just rolls his eyes.
But that first part of her message hits me.
They’re dancing.
She’s probably out in the middle of some dimly lit bar, moving her body like a damn invitation. Practically fucking the air around her.
My grip tightens around my phone before I can stop it, and I feel something hot curling in my chest. I have no right to be possessive over her. She’s not mine. That reminder loops in my head, but it doesn’t stop the way my pulse hammers harder.
Raven’s not the kind of woman who needs saving. I know that. If some asshole tried something, she’d probably break his fingers before he even got close. It’s everyone else I don’t trust. Drunk idiots who don’t know when to back the fuck off.
The urge to send a message telling them to be careful creeps up on me, but before I can type it out, I miss a play that would have won me some money. Instead, I flop.
“Head up in the clouds again?” Cam smirks, leaning back like he’s already won the game.
I grab the bowl of pretzels and launch it at him, sending the pretzels flying. “Fuck you.”
Everyone laughs and Cam just grins, catching the bowl before it can crash on the floor.
I shake off whatever the fuck that was and type out a reply.
Me: I’m not cleaning my house. I’m playing poker.
Your Royal Highness: Interesting.
I want to play!
Are you winning or losing?
Actually… I hope you don’t win!
Me: Ouch.
Fuck, that smartass mouth is tempting enough to ruin me.
Every time she opens it I’m torn between wanting to argue and wanting to shove my cock so far down her throat she has no choice but to surrender. To show her exactly what I think about that mouth.
She has no idea who she's playing with. No idea who she’s inviting in. She’s messing with fire, and when she finally gets burned, she’ll learn that I don’t do halfway.
Your Royal Highness: Well, I'm going back to dancing.Enjoy losing.
Your Royal Highness: … Don’t worry, if you’re short on cash, I might pay you extra for a castle tour. Depending on how good a job you do ;)
If I need some money?
I laugh, shaking my head. This woman.
If only she knew.
I can just picture her body arching against mine, my hands gripping her hips, moving her exactly how I want. The echo of her moans filling every space.
The idea alone almost makes me tell the guys we’re going out after all. I roll my eyes, locking my phone before I do something stupid.
There’s nothing I could text her right now that wouldn't scare her off. Every response swirling in my head is filthy and depraved.
When I finally say something, it’ll be in person because I need to see her face and watch her reaction.
It takes several minutes for my brain to regain control over my cock. Once I wrangled my thoughts back in, I manage to win back most of my money, much to everyone else’s disappointment.
But I know one thing for damn sure.
Next time I see her, she won’t be walking away so easily.
It's probably for the best that she didn’t see us tonight. Cam and I still look a little rough from earlier. The bruises would’ve raised questions. Questions I wouldn’t have answered.
After everyone heads out, my phone buzzes on the table. It's probably the adorable little American, drunk texting her way into trouble.
Cam walks in, tossing some trash in the bin as his phone vibrates too. He checks it, then laughs. “Those girls are wild. Maybe they did need a chaperone, after all.”
He holds up his phone, and it’s a photo of Raven standing on the bar at the pub with a drink in each hand.
And just like that, my dick makes its grand entrance. Again.
Every time her name comes up? Boner. Seeing her? Boner. Breathing in her general direction? A fucking boner.
This is starting to feel like slow, painful torture.
I drag a hand down my face, exhaling sharply as I reach for my phone, to see a message from my sister.
Thank God.
Khloe: Hey, do you have everything ready for this weekend?
Me: All I have to do is show up…? Right?
Besides, it's still days away!
Khloe: Well, yeah… but are you ready?
Me: Mentally? No.
Is there anything you need me to do?
Khloe: Nope!
Just don't be a loser and actually show up.
She can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but she’s my sister, so I deal with it. Of course, I'm going to show up, and she knows that.
Despite my better judgement, I decide to respond to Raven.
Me: Maybe I'll take you up on that offer, get in some extra tour hours.
Your Royal Highness: Okay! Deal.
Wait… are castles open on Sundays?
Me: Consider it done.
Your Royal Highness: Okay, Mr. Scottish man,
who thinks he can do whatever he wants and waltz into castles whenever he pleases.
Do you have keys to all of Scotland or something?
Me: I’m glad you’re catching on…
Your Royal Highness: Whatever
Your Royal Highness: What are you doing?
Your Royal Highness: Are you home?
Are you in your basement… with your girl?
Me: Yes, Princess, I'm home.
Your Royal Highness: There you go with the ‘Princess’ thing again…
Me: Observant as always, I see.
Your Royal Highness: Whatever. I didn't want to come over, anyway.
That would’ve gone nowhere good. Not with the shit running through my head from earlier.
Me: You have a busy day tomorrow. Get some sleep.
Your Royal Highness: YOU get some sleep.
I roll my eyes as a quiet laugh escapes before I can stop it.
Of course, she has to have the last word. It’s almost impossible not to engage.
I stare at my phone for a second longer while my fingers hover over the screen. I'm tempted to fire back just to keep her talking. But I know better.
She’s dangerous for my self-control.
I set the phone down, muttering under my breath, “Goodnight, Princess.”