Page 14 of Pride: Kneel Before None

“Miss Bechette, you have a choice to make. You can walk away right now with your prize,” he said as he waved an envelope in front of me. Then he lifted his other hand, which held a rectangular chip that appeared to be made of precious gold.

“Or you have the chance to double your winnings.” He smiled with a glimmer in his eyes, hinting at which choice he would make.

It wasn’t a difficult decision; the odds were stacked in my favor. Walking out of here with enough money to bust Tighe out of prison with some to spare? Who would turn down that opportunity?

Smiling, I plucked the golden plaque from his fingers. “I’m a sucker for maximizing my wins.”

“Excellent,” he purred and tucked the money envelope back into his jacket. “If you follow me, I will show you to the Specialty Wager Room where you will play one final hand against Sevenfold’s owner, Mr. Reynard.”

While the rest of the guests continued drinking and socializing in the ballroom, I followed the host to a door located along the back wall. A tall man, easily towering at seven or eight feet stepped to the side to allow us to pass through. He must have been part orc with a height like that and ears that came to a sharp point. Not to mention the permanent scowl on his squared face.

Walking through the hallway just beyond the back door, I noticed that this corridor looked much different from the rest of the casino. It lacked decor and all the showy pretense the other areas had, leading me to believe this passage was not for public use.

“Won’t any of the other guests be joining us?” I questioned after several minutes of walking in silence.

The man shook his head. “No. All games played in the SWR require…discretion. It will be just you and Mr. Reynard there.”

Great.

Nothing like an intimate setting with a man who clearly has an unhealthy interest in me. I couldn’t blame him, but shit, I hated to blow his ego to smithereens without any witnesses. It took away an element of fun.

After going up a single flight of stairs, the man pushed open a door, allowing me to enter. Stepping over the threshold, my first impression of the room was that it reminded me of a medieval castle. The walls were made of stone, the iron sconces on the walls provided flickering light that danced with the shadows, and the lone table in the center of the room was made of thick slabs of aged, heavy oak. Resting on top of the table was a single deck of black playing cards.

Hearing the door shut behind me, I glanced back to see that the host who had led me here had already abandoned me. There was one other door in the room, opening moments later as Ace stepped inside.

His smile was all cockiness and his green eyes were pure mischief.

“I’m happy to see that you decided to join me.” He stopped at the side of the table opposite me.

My smile dripping with sweetness, I replied, “This has nothing to do with you. I came for the money.” Cold, hard truth.

“Ah, of course you did.” He smirked at me before gesturing to the table. “In that case, go ahead and place your bet, Miss Bechette.” His hand made a smooth sweeping motion over the table.

I allowed my mind to wander, calling forth a vision of the cards that would be dealt. When I saw I’d hit twenty-one spot-on in three cards, I smiled excitedly to myself. Stepping forward, I tossed the metal chip onto the center of the table where it landed with a thunk.

Ace’s eyes lingered on me, making me feel like he was readying himself for his next meal. Somebody was hungry for a meal I didn’t plan to serve.

Leaning forward, he braced himself against the long edge of the table.

“Let’s make this interesting. If you win, I will triple your money.”

This sounded too good to be true, but little did he know how sure I was that I would be walking out of there with a shitload of his money.

Without hesitation, I agreed. “Deal.”

A dark smile flashed across his stubbled face. “You aren’t going to ask what happens if you lose?”

I mirrored his stance, leaning forward over the table as I looked into his eyes. I tried searching through his immediate future to find any visions of him crying over his financial woes, yet I found nothing. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be shedding tears, but there were no visions of anything at all.

Determined to maintain my self-confidence, I shrugged and stated what I was sure was fact, “I won’t lose.”

He made a sound deep in his throat like he just barely suppressed a chuckle. Slowly, he straightened up, his fingers adjusting cufflinks with nonchalance.

“Suit yourself, Little Spade,” he said with amusement trickling through his voice.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I corrected him. “My name is Eve. I can do without the disparaging pet name, Mr. Reynard.”

Without that shit-eating grin leaving his face, his hands made quick work of shuffling the deck of cards. The way his fingers slid over each edge was hypnotizing. I caught myself allowing my imagination to run away with thoughts of what else those hands could do.