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“Does the colored tinted glass mean something?” I asked.
“Yes. Each color represents the minimum bid allowed in each poker room.” He halted and pointed toward the room closest to the rear entrance.
“The minimum bid for the blue room is ten k. A player needs fifty thousand to play in the red room. The yellow room represents twenty-five thousand minimum bids.” He turned us to the right.
“You’ll need one hundred thousand to play in this room. The gold room. Two hundred and fifty thousand minimum is required to play in the silver room next door.”
“The gold room’s full. Is it because it’s Friday?”
“Yes, Friday through Sunday, we get tons of out-of-town gamblers. We must vet everyone. This is a private club. And the club I frequent the most. I won’t put myself in danger for a quarter of a million dollars.”
Poker players sat around tables staring at their playing cards with their drink of choice nearby.
“Do the guests play anything other than poker?” I asked.
“Yes. Downstairs, there are craps and roulette tables. There’s even a wall of slot machines.”
A smile took my lips. “I love slot machines.”
He smirked. “You do, huh? Bonnie will take you downstairs. I have a poker game to play.”
Franco tugged my hand until we were standing in front of the platinum room. I hadn’t noticed our fingers were still intertwined until now. Why did it feel so natural?
It shouldn’t feel natural to fall in lust with your captor, Kennedy. Snap out of the alluring haze he put you under.
I blinked twice before peeking through the glass.
My heart lurched in my chest. I tried snatching my hand from Franco’s grip. He squeezed tighter.
“You’ll come into the room for a moment.”
He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Then Bonnie will get five thousand dollars from the cashier so you can play the slot machines.”
Bonnie nodded from her place across the hall. Ettore stood closest to us with his hands cupped in front of him. He looked like he was ready to rip someone apart. Clip and Saro stood on either side of the hallway behind us.
“My poker games usually take an hour,” Franco said.
“Franco, you know my history with him. I don’t want to see him face to face,” I gritted out.
Duke sat at the bar with his bodyguards. He stared at the large screen TV hanging on the wall over the bar, giving me his side profile.
He bit his lower lip. “Do you know how much money your friend Quinn owes us?”
I stared at him like he had two heads.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand to each of us,” Franco stated.
A shiver shot up my spine and my lips parted. “Oh my God! What?”
“Sweetheart, you didn’t seriously think I took you captive for one hundred k? Honestly, I would’ve taken you captive for less.” He flashed that cocky smirk.
I still stared at him in horror.
“Listen, Kennedy, I like Quinn. I was onboard with his vision. When I first offered to invest, he said he had a backer. Some time passed, then he paid me a visit. He said his father was trying to bring in his business acquaintances. Quinn said he couldn’t deal with that. I told him not to worry. I’d invest in his dream. If he needed more money, he should’ve come to me. We could’ve worked something out.”
My gaze landed on the floor. “You are aware of what his father is capable of. Remember, he’s the reason I got shot.” My voice was barely audible over the chatter throughout the club.
Franco placed two fingers under my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “Repeat that.”
