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Dante
Still no sign of Enzo.
High-roller game our uncle is invited to starts in an hour. We’ll be heading down then to see if Enzo’s there.
Exhausted, I flip through the photos once more and do a double-take.
This is me.
And it’s not.
All of a sudden, everything clicks. The puzzle piece I couldn’t see, staring me in the face.
I clutch the photos and look at them again, one by one. Carefully scrutinizing them, making sure I’m not wrong. Then I grab my suitcase and my best battle dress.
Me
Count me in.
Chapter Forty
ENZO
“Last game of the night, gentlemen,” the dealer announces, the final cards gliding across the green baize in front of each of us.
This is why I love Monaco. It’s where I saw my first stripper and had my first fuck. It’s discretion and power all wrapped up in one, and high stakes have jack shit to do with cards or money.
Betting big means betting it all. A car. A house. A man’s wife for a week of depraved, no-holds-barred submission.
A man’s life.
Power doesn’t just exchange hands; it dances, whirls, and intoxicates with the potency of sex and the addiction of a drug.
“Your poker face hides a lot, Enzo. But not everything,” Uncle Andre says as he studies his cards. His eyes lift to his dwindled pile of chips, and his sly, calculated grin remains intact.
My poker face hides a lot. He should know. Right now, I’m thinking about twelve inches of serrated steel slicing through his throat.
But I keep a clear head and offer nothing more than a nod of acknowledgment.
To my left is a prince of some wealthy but irrelevant country. To my right, a Belgian financier. And next to him, a recently engaged nouveau-riche tech mogul.
Uncle Andre’s flowery words aren’t worthy of my attention at the moment. My gaze has drifted to the woman who just entered the room. My eyes roam every part of her, but not her face. Never again her face.
That angelic face has tortured my dreams and toyed with my sanity, and tonight, she chose red.
Red.
A red dress.
That damned red dress and the way it teases her thighs and caresses every alluring curve of her body... I swear, she’ll be the death of me.
I steady my pulse as she takes two steps in my direction. The gold band on my finger suddenly weighs a fucking ton. But it’s her wedding ring that breaks the spell. As soon as it catches the light, my jaw clenches, and I blink back to the game.
Of course, it catches the light. How could it not? The damned thing is as big as the moon and cost me more than my yacht.
She’s worth a million times more.
Shut up.
