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I can tell he thinks he has a winning hand, but when I lay my cards on the table, his face falls and then turns red.
“How the fuck?” he growls, spitting anger. “You–” he cuts himself off. “Who the fuck let you in here?”
“Calm down, man,” CEO says, sipping his whiskey. He tips his glass to me with a smirk like Vinny, but it doesn’t have the same effect on me. “She won. Get over it. Maybe you’re the one who shouldn’t be let in here anymore. I can’t imagine you have much left to gamble with.”
“You fucking bastard!” Regular guy pushes up from his chair and leans forward on the table like he’s going to either fight someone or steal the chips he’s lost.
“Time to leave.” The bodyguard from the door appears behind him and places his hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” he yells, spinning around and winding his arm back like he’s going to punch the big Russian wall of muscle, but the Russian easily captures his fist and twists his arm around his back.
“AH!” regular guy yelps, his face twisting in pain. “Get off me!”
“You’re done here. We warned you last time. Now you know what happens.” His Russian accent makes everything he says that much more intimidating, and I keep my face neutral as the guy is led out of the room, the pain on his face morphing into pure fear.
The atmosphere in the room shifts, and I want to get the fuck out of here, but I can’t be the first to walk away after that.
“He doesn’t like losing to a woman,” CEO says to me, that smirk still in place. He’s undoubtedly good-looking, but nowhere near as handsome as Vinny.
“Some men aren’t man enough to lose to a woman, I suppose. You don’t seem to mind, though, do you?” I say back, and his smirk turns into a full-blown cocky grin.
“No, sweetheart, I don’t mind. I have plenty to lose to you, too, in case you were worried about me.”
“I wasn’t.” The day traders laugh and the trust fund baby breaks his emotionless mask by tipping one side of his mouth up.
“After that, though, I think I’m going to call it a night. Maybe you can take more of my money some other time, gorgeous,” day trader one says to me, with the second nodding his agreement.
They both get up and leave, taking what little chips they have left with them to cash out.
“Are you gentlemen going to call it a night, too, or do you have more to lose?”
A gunshot goes off somewhere nearby and I jump, my heart rate going from rapid to damn near heart attack status.
Did they just kill him?
Did I just get a man killed?
I take slow breaths to keep my calm exterior in check despite how much I’m freaking out on the inside, and look around to see the reactions of those still in the room. Not everyone is as good at hiding their emotions, and when everyone stands, I realize there’s some unspoken rule of gunplay ending the night. Fine with me.
“Cash out and leave,” one of the guards standing around the room bellows.
The dealer hands me a bag from under the table and I scoop all my chips into it, making sure to give her a few as a tip.
I won way more than I need. Like, way more. But I can think about what I’m going to do with it all when I’m safely out of here and on my way back home.
I follow the other players to a different back room further into the building where there are stacks of cash on a table surrounded by five armed men.
Jesus.
I’m in way over my head.
I wait patiently in line, making sure I’m not the last one, and press myself against the wall to keep upright. These heels are pinching my pinky toes and my legs aren’t feeling as reliable as I’d like right now.
Player after player toss their bags of chips on the table where two men count it separately and then a third hands them their cash. Minus the house’s fee of course.
When it’s finally my turn, I heave my bag of chips onto the table and the men look at me for a beat longer than they did anyone else.
I stand there and wait as they take ten to fifteen minutes each to count the chips out. One writes the amount on a piece of paper and slides it to the cash guy who walks over to the corner of the room to grab a metal briefcase.
