Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
He sits back, looking impressed instead of disappointed. “A brave and adventurous woman, and one with principles too. I admire that. Your husband is a lucky man.”
“Shall we begin?” I ask, my palms clammy with nerves.
“I’ve never been one to make a lady wait,” he says smoothly before pushing the deck toward me. “You deal. I’ll cut.”
My stomach is tied in knots. I’m relatively certain of myself, but there’s always that small chance that something will go wrong and that Saverio will lose everything he’s worked for.
He’s losing it anyway if you do nothing, Anya. Just focus.
For the first two rounds, I let Benson win. Just as a smug look comes over his face, I take the next game. I keep the odds relatively even, the discrepancy not big enough to notice, and in the last few rounds, I tip the scale toward my end until we’re more or less on par.
Benson is sweating by the time we deal the final round. He removed his jacket a long time ago, and he’s on his third scotch.
“Hit,” I say.
He rubs a hand over his beard and curses under his breath. “Stay.” Arching a brow, he asks, “Another hit?”
I shake my head. “I’m done.”
A big smile breaks out over his face as he neatly lays a jack of spades and a queen of hearts on the table.
The two fives and the ace of diamonds I put down wipes that smile clean away.
“Sorry, Benson. I believe that makes me the winner.”
He leans back, his chest deflating with the long breath he blows out, and wipes his brow with the paper napkin that came with his drink. “I don’t know what to say. I can, however, say I honestly didn’t expect this.”
I shrug. “Beginner’s luck.”
On the exterior, I practice calm, but inside, I’m frightened to death. I’m scared he’s a bad loser. He may very well decide he’s not happy to part with such a big fortune. Only his impeccable reputation of honoring his debts convinced me to stage this game, but I can’t help but worry it may still go wrong.
“It would very much seem so.” He stands, offering me a hand. “Congratulations, ladybug.”
I accept the handshake. “Ladybug?”
“My mother always said ladybugs signified luck.” He scrutinizes me as if I’m a puzzle he wants to figure out. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. It was touch and go all the way.”
“It was a tough game.”
He nods at Fred. “Prepare the cash.” Then he addresses me again. “Do you prefer a delivery, or did you make arrangements for safe transportation?”
“We’ll take the money now.”
Fred leaves promptly, making his way to a door that’s marked office at the back.
“As you wish,” Benson says. “May I offer you a celebratory drink?”
I push back my chair and stand. “I would’ve liked to say yes, but I have family responsibilities waiting.”
“You put your club on the line even though there was a fifty percent chance that you’d lose. That’s rather risky.” He studies me. “May I ask why?”
“It was all or nothing.” Guilt warms my cheeks when I add, “I didn’t have the money to repay you. It was either a card game and losing After Dark or getting my bones broken.”
“I appreciate your honesty.”
He takes a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, unfolds it, and shows it to me. It’s the contract I signed for the loan.
He tears it in half and hands it to me. “I hope I’ll have the pleasure again.”
“Oh no.” My laugh is awkward. “That was way too stressful for me.”
Fred returns with two black sports bags in each hand, his arm muscles bulging under the weight. He dumps them on the table and unzips each to reveal stacks of hundred-dollar bills. “It’s all there. You can count it.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say, nodding at him in thanks.
“I bid you well, Anya De Luca. Remember to tell your husband he’s a lucky man.”
Fred closes the bags and hands two to me before passing the rest to Livy.
“I’ll do that,” I say, suppressing the urge to run for the exit.
I nudge Livy’s shoulder as our cue to go. We walk side by side to the elevator. I keep my back straight, praying that Benson isn’t going to pull out a gun and tell me that letting me leave with my winnings was just a big, fat joke and that he knows I counted the cards.
My heart thumps between my ribs, my throat so tight it’s difficult to breathe. I pinch my eyes shut when the elevator doors open, waiting for that shot to ring out, but we step inside, and nothing happens. I don’t have the strength left to school my features. I stare at the wall as we ride down to the parking lot, unable to believe it’s been so easy.