Chapter 19
19
ALLEGRA
I ’ve sat across the table from a lot of dangerous men.
Men with power.
Men who were willing to do anything to get what they wanted.
But after hours of play, the most dangerous one sits across from me now.
Alan LeBlanc may not have known who I was when I sat down, but he sure as hell knows now.
The way he is watching me, assessing me, he’s figured out that I know how to read the cards the same way he does. Which means now that we’ve reached the final hand—the one that will determine who wins the entire tournament—we’re on a level playing field.
Not something any of the other people who have already been eliminated could say.
One by one, they dropped out, melting away from the table with their tails tucked between their legs, likely heading straight for the bar to lick their wounds.
We got lucky that no one noticed or suspected what was going on.
But Alan and I are both smart enough to know how to play and not draw attention to the fact that we’re walking away with it.
And I am so close to doing just that.
Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I lift my eyes from my cards and seek Coen’s where he stands against the wall in the far corner of the high-stakes poker room.
Watching.
Waiting.
Brooding.
He’s barely moved since the tournament started, other than to speak with a few employees who approached and whispered something to him. And I’ve done my best to ignore the man, to keep my focus on the game so that Alan doesn’t use any lapse in concentration to do something that could lose this for me.
That could lose it for the Hawkes.
Coen doesn’t even acknowledge when my eyes meet his. He continues to stare with that icy-cold gaze, his jaw clenched, body rigid and unyielding.
He doesn’t like this one bit. If he had it his way, I would have been tossed out onto the street. He didn’t want to accept my help. And he sure as fuck doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t trust that this is real, that I truly am willing to betray Satriano for him and the rest of the Hawkes.
There’s only one way to prove it to him.
I have to win.
And then, I have to do what he asked and walk away from him forever.
I shove the rest of my chips into the center of the felt. “All in.”
Alan raises a brow, then his lips twitch into a little feral grin, and he does the same, nudging his stack forward. He gives me a coy grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to just chop it?”
Hell no…
The offer to split the pot rather than have this final showdown would be enticing to a lot of players, but I see it for what it is—his attempt to save face rather than potentially lose.
And I won’t give Satriano even a partial win.
I smile at Alan sweetly. “I think I’ll pass.”
He shrugs and sits back in his chair. “Your fucking funeral.”
His words stiffen my spine.
He doesn’t mean it as just a colloquial saying.
He means it potentially literally because he knows I’m betraying Satriano.
Because he knows what will be waiting for me if this money doesn’t go to him—or even if it does.
Satriano will know I came and played.
He will understand I made my choice…and that it wasn’t him.
Which means he will come for me.
He always does.
I flip over my cards and watch Alan’s humor fade quickly. His eyes drift across the community cards, then up to meet mine. The flicker of anger is all I need to know to confirm I won.
Alan stands and reaches across the table, extending his hand. “Well played.”
I accept it, and he tightens his grip so much that it hurts.
He leans closer; the only one who might be able to hear us is the dealer. “You better be prepared for what’s coming for you.”
Before I came here, I thought I was. I believed I had mentally prepared myself for the fallout that would come from this choice, but now a vise seems to constrict around my chest, threatening to suffocate me.
What have I done?
Alan releases my hand and slinks off to try to figure out a way to save himself because he’s going to have to face Satriano, too, with the fact that he lost—to me.
I release a shuddered breath and turn away from the table to find Savage approaching. His intense stare reminds me of my promise—to get lost fast once this was done. And there isn’t any time to waste because if I don’t get out of here fast, I won’t stand a chance of getting out of New Orleans safely and hidden somewhere before Satriano tracks me down.
Even if I can get away, it will only be a matter of time before he’s at my doorstep…
I twist back to the table and snag a card, then fumble in my purse until I find a pen, quickly scribbling a message on it.
By the time I’m finished, Savage is waiting, with his brow furrowed as I hand it to him. “Deposit the money wherever you choose. And give this to Coen.”
“Wait, Allegra?—”
But I don’t.
I can’t.
Just like I can’t let the tears pooling in my eyes fall.
I won .
I did what I came here to do.
They should be happy tears, but they aren’t. They’re filled with frustration, longing, fear, and so many other emotions that I can’t pinpoint them all.
I move past Savage, ducking out with the flow of the crowd, fleeing to the room while avoiding eye contact with Coen or anyone else.
This time, I won’t make the same mistake.
I won’t linger.
I have to get out of here and out of New Orleans quickly.
It’s my only chance.
If I stop, even for a minute, to try to talk to Coen, to try to convince him that everything he thinks is wrong, I would only be wasting precious time I don’t have.
And it wouldn’t change anything between us.
I practically run down the casino aisles, weaving around people who are stumbling around with Mardi Gras beads and drinks in their hands until I make it to the main entrance, where I had the limo company ensure the driver would be waiting for me—no matter how long it took.
My gaze darts across the street to the second Hawke Hotel tower going up, almost fully completed.
It would have been nice to see it…
But I can never come back here for so many reasons.
Not just to the Hawke Hotel, either. I can never come back to New Orleans.
That thought finally makes the tears begin to flow, and the driver comes out and holds the door open for me.
I slide into the back seat, the door closes, sealing me inside with my own misery.
It was the right thing to do.
No matter how many times I remind myself of that fact, it doesn’t make the twisting in my gut any better. It doesn’t solve the problem I’ve just created for myself by saving him.
I helped the Hawkes in a way only I could have.
If they had openly defied his order to fix the game in favor of Alan, there would have been catastrophic repercussions. But they’ve done nothing wrong, and that’s the true beauty of my plan.
Coen did exactly as asked—he put the stacked deck into the dealer’s hands.
That should have been the end of it.
That should have ensured Satriano’s plant won the tournament and firmly held the Hawkes in a stranglehold.
I was the factor he never counted on…
But he should have.
That man never should have underestimated me.
The driver raises a brow in the rearview. “Where to, miss?”
“Airport, as fast as you can.”
He nods and glances at his side-view mirror before he starts to pull out from under the massive awning and onto the drizzly, damp New Orleans street. But my door flies open before he can pull away from the curb more than a foot or two.
I jerk away from the open door, prepared to face the wrath of the man I betrayed.
But the one who slides in and settles next to me in the back seat isn’t the one I thought would be following me.
It isn’t Alan or any of Satriano’s other planted men.
It’s the other one I betrayed.
Coen stares at me, those unbelievably blue eyes of his somehow a mix between flinty ice and warm Caribbean blue.
The driver either hasn’t noticed that Coen joined me or doesn’t care, and he pulls off into traffic. I press the button to raise the partition, unsure what Coen might say that I might not want him overhearing.
Once it’s fully up, I turn to Coen. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He holds my gaze, giving nothing away about his intent. “You ran again.”
I set my purse down on the seat next to me, my body already heating under his assessing gaze that I can’t quite figure out. Angry? Shocked? Thrilled? “I have every reason to run, Coen. He’ll come after me now.”
Coen’s hard jaw tics as he looks at me. “You knew exactly what you were doing, the danger you were putting yourself in.”
I nod, and he flips the card I handed Savage up so my message is visible.
I’m sorry. It was all real.
“And this?” He flicks it with his finger. “Was this just another move in the game?”
Even now. Even after what I just did for him. He still doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t understand how important he is to me.
Tears stream down my cheeks now, and “No. I can’t keep living like this.”
“Like what?”
“A life that isn’t mine.” I bite back a sob, choking on the reality that I haven’t really lived my own life for so long that I forgot how to and what it felt like to really be free. “That doesn’t make me happy.”
Coen lowers the card to his lap, his hand still clutching it tightly. “What does make you happy, Allegra? Because I thought we already established you don’t seem to care about anyone or anything.”
Those words slice at my already-bleeding wounds, tearing my open even more, shredding me so painfully that I actually release a frustrated cry. “I care about you ! God”—I release a little mirthless laugh—“and for some reason, I care about your big, crazy family. I don’t want to see you all hurt.”
He works his jaw. “A little late for that, isn’t it?”
It definitely is.
I could spend ten lifetimes trying to make up for what I did to him, and another ten thousand trying to make amends for what Satriano has done to them—and continues to.
But I still don’t think it would be enough.
Not for the Hawkes.
Not for Coen.
“I know today can’t make up for everything that happened, for everything that I’ve done, but I have so much to tell you. So much more that needs to be said…”
If he’d only listen…
He reaches out and wraps his fingers around my jaw, holding my gaze steady on his. “I only need to know one thing from you right now, Allegra.”
The intensity of the way he searches my eyes makes my heart stall for a second. “What’s that?”
“Are you done playing games?”
A long, slow breath slips from my lips on a sob, and I nod, swiping at the tears that cloud my vision.
And Coen kisses me before I even realize his intent.
* * *
COEN
I never intended to go after Allegra.
I never intended to climb into this car with her.
And I certainly never meant to kiss her.
Not after everything she’s done.
The way she lied to me and manipulated me isn’t something that can be so easily forgotten and maybe not ever forgiven.
It’s all I could think about all day as I watched her play.
Card after card.
Hand after hand.
She played an incredible game.
Calm.
Cool.
Professional.
She did it all, knowing that as soon as the final hand was dealt, she was fucked either way.
Whether she won or lost, Satriano would know what she had done—and that’s worse than him potentially losing the money. It was a statement to him that she was taking her life back, and Satriano isn’t the type to let anyone just walk away.
But she did it anyway.
That was the first hint that maybe she hasn’t been completely full of shit.
A glimmer of hope that at least a fraction of what we shared might have been real.
The longer I watched her play, the more it began to feel like maybe I had made a mistake in not listening to her, in not letting her explain more that day in Vegas.
And when Savage handed me this card and said she left, I read the words and felt like my chest was being ripped open, like I was being splayed alive by her and her words.
Because good God , I want to believe them.
Racing through the casino, all I could think was that it could be real.
Lunging for the door before the limo pulled away, I prayed for it to be unlocked so I could get my answer before she left for good.
And now, despite every reason she can’t be trusted, with my mouth on hers, that little moan slipping from her lips, I can’t deny the fact that I do , even if I shouldn’t.
I trust her.
She came here today and proved that whatever happened to bring us together, it wasn’t all an act.
What we shared that night in Vegas was real , as real as anything I’ve ever experienced in my life, and if I ignored that because I got hung up on my own pain and embarrassment and anger, I don’t know that I would ever be able to forgive myself.
So, I have to forgive her.
The same way Atlas did me for something equally awful that I did without any excuse except my own selfishness and idiocy.
And so, I release it.
I let it go.
All the resentment and anger and loathing I felt since she revealed the truth in Vegas. I replace it with the all-consuming need I have for this woman.
The limo moves onto the main street, and I angle Allegra’s face, trying to reach the places she would never let me before, that I could never get to with the barrier of lies between us.
And she opens for me so sweetly, gliding her tongue along mine, gasping and clutching at the front of my suit.
I let the card fall to the seat so I can drag her up and over me until she straddles my hips across the seat. She whimpers slightly, settling her core along my hard cock, and her heat sears me even through my pants. The fabric already starting to dampen.
“No fucking panties again, huh?”
She grins against my lips, wrapping her hands around my neck and gripping me as tightly as I do her hips. “I’m not in the habit of wearing them anymore…”
I tunnel my fingers into her hair and tug her head back, holding her away from me for a moment, locking gazes with her. “Why? Because you were hoping a moment like this might present itself?”
Her gaze softens.
The intense haze of lust fades, replaced by a sincerity that stops my heart.
She shakes her head. “I never thought a moment like this would be possible. I never believed for a second that you could forgive me for everything I did.”
I know that feeling all too well.
For so long, I didn’t think it was possible for Atlas to ever forgive me. The fact that he has is still sometimes difficult for me to grasp, even after two weeks of Sunday dinners, sweaty gym training sessions, and dozens of conversations that somehow fell back into feeling completely natural without any of the tension I thought would never go away.
So, what Allegra is saying rings true in my heart.
She didn’t think we would ever be in this position again. It was so out of the realm of possibility that she wouldn’t have even considered it when she came back to New Orleans, especially after what I said to her the last time we saw each other.
Yet, here she is, teary-eyed, panty-less, wet and ready, and she still doesn’t seem to grasp what I’m trying to tell her.
I cradle her face in my palms, brushing away the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. “I forgive you, Allegra. Because I have to. Because if I don’t, it will eat me alive the same way the entire situation has been for the past several weeks.”
“I’ve been so fucking miserable.”
Her confession swells my chest. “Me too.”
Another tear slips from the corner of her eye and trickles down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb and drag that across her lips. Her tongue darts out across the pad and my cock twitches.
This woman is everything I’ve ever wanted.
Beautiful.
Smart.
Sexy as hell.
And brave .
So fucking brave to have come here and taken this stand for us—and for herself.
She presses her forehead to mine, releasing a long sigh, heavy with all the emotions we’re barely managing to contain. “I’ve missed you, Coen.”
Her whispered confession wipes away any self-control I had left, and I slide my free hand up under the hem of her dress to find her slick core.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you, too.” I slip a finger along her slit and kiss her. “I’ve missed the taste of your mouth.” Another kiss. “Your cunt.” Another. “How you feel on my fingers and my cock…”
She whimpers and grinds down against my hand.
“I’ve missed those little noises you make when you’re frustrated and want to come.”
Almost as if on cue, one slips from her mouth, and I catch it in another kiss that quickly turns frantic.
Nails score my neck.
Her hips roll against me.
My fingers slip easily inside her. “And you’re ready for me, aren’t you?”
She nods, groaning, her hands tightening on me, those nails biting into my skin harder. “So fucking ready…”
Her hands leave my neck and reach between us to my belt, freeing my cock and sliding the material away to give herself room.
The limo turns left, and we slide slightly on the leather seat, both of us laughing as I pull my hand away from her core and she settles herself against the head of my cock.
I lift my fingers to my lips and lick them clean as she slowly engulfs me, sinking down inch by inch, her scalding, wet heat enough to make my balls seize up and want to release immediately.
Fuck.
She drops her forehead against mine, her breath ragged when she finally settles down on me. I move one hand to her hip, keeping the other tunneled in her thick, dark hair. She tries to move, tries to shift up, but I keep her down, completely still on my cock.
Her head slowly lifts, and her eyes search mine.
“I forgive you, Allegra, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel that I’m entitled to some revenge.”
Those stormy-gray eyes flare, and I can’t fight the grin pulling at my lips, then brace my feet and shove up into her an extra quarter of an inch I didn’t have before.
She gasps, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as it drops back.
I kiss up her neck and across her jaw until I get to her ear. “But I don’t have the willpower to do it now…”
“Oh, thank God.”
There will be plenty of time for those games.
The ones both of us enjoy.
But not now.
I release my hold on her hip, allowing her to rise until only the head of my cock stays inside of her, then sink back down so slowly that the glide feels endless. “Oh, fuck…”
She rolls her hips and squeezes her cunt around me, her groan filling the space as we barrel down the street, neither of us caring about the destination or when we might get there.
It’s all irrelevant at this point.
This woman is only going one place—back home with me.
I hold her against me, clinging to her, relishing the feel of having her in my arms again. It’s only been two weeks, but it might as well have been two decades since I last tasted her, since I last felt this completeness.
It’s so wrong to want someone this much, especially when you know they’re bad for you, when you know how toxic they can be, when you know they’re willing to lie, steal, and cheat for someone as dangerous as Satriano.
But I do believe her, and I’ve forgiven her for everything that came before today.
This is our fresh start.
Our chance to really come together with nothing between us. No more lies. No more half-truths. No more games.
And as she rides me, grinding down with each upward thrust of my hips, it feels like I’m finally home. Like all these years spent wandering were all for this .
The restlessness settles in my soul, bound to this woman who needs me as desperately as I need her. Like an anchor mooring me in a storm, she’s become the one thing that finally feels right and like it’s mine.
Allegra cups my face and angles my head, kissing me with a wild abandon, like she can’t get enough, like she’s been starving since we were last together and I’m the only one who can satisfy her hunger.
And I let her take and take.
She moves frantically now, gliding up and down on me, squeezing with each retreat and clamping as she bottoms out.
My balls draw up tight.
That low tingle starting at the base of my spine.
“Fuck, Allegra.” I tug on her hair, tilting her head away from me so I can bite down on her collarbone in that same fucking spot I wanted to mark her the first time we were together.
She twitches on my cock, her whole body fluttering as she comes. Tensing, her back arches, her pussy rippling and clenching around me as her orgasm slams into her.
The drag and pull of her pussy walls finally unleashes my release, and I groan, burying my face against her damp skin as I come deep inside her.
And it simultaneously feels like finally letting go and finally finding the one thing I’ve been looking for my entire life.
Allegra collapses, her entire weight settled against my chest, my cock still embedding inside her. Every warm flutter of her breath against my skin makes me twitch and cling to her even tighter.
The car moves through the streets. Stopping at lights. Making turns.
It goes on for so long with us just holding each other that I almost forget we are going somewhere.
Her lips feather against my neck. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
Instantly, that moment of post-orgasmic bliss vanishes. That tentative tone in her voice, the hint of fear, is enough to make my hand at her hip tighten in warning. “What?”
She pulls her head back, her lids still at half-mast and glazed over, but they sharpen quickly to a stormy uncertainty. “You asked me once what Satriano had on me.”
“Yeah?”
But this isn’t at all the time or place to have this discussion.
We’ll have to come up with a plan to deal with Satriano and the fallout of what went down today. I just don’t want to do it right now.
“You don’t have to get into it right now, Allegra. We have time.”
She shakes her head, fear filling her gaze again. “No, we don’t. It’s what I was trying to tell you in Vegas, what you never let me explain. Satriano doesn’t have anything on me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t owe him.”
“I don’t understand. Why the fuck would you owe a man like Satriano anything if he isn’t holding some sort of debt?”
Nothing she’s saying is making any sense, and the longer it takes her to respond, the more she trembles, and the more terrified I become of what she’s about to say next.
Her lip quivers, and the tears form in her eyes again. “I know what he’s planning, what he wants from you and your family. I know everything.”
“Why would he confide in you, Allegra? Why do you owe him anything? ”
She swallows thickly, steeling herself for whatever she’s about to say and the response she seems to be anticipating from me. “He confided in me because he trusts me. And I owe him because he’s my father.”