“It’s all about knowing when to bluff,” I tell them, offering a sly smile. “But seriously, Zane, please say you’ve brought more than a measly few grand.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I have something much more valuable to offer than a couple of grand,” Zane comments, his voice twisted slightly with intent and I’m intrigued to know what. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, let’s just go play.”
“I’ll meet you down there,” my father announces, leaving us all as he heads toward the door where a few of the men have been coming and going all evening.
Everyone decides to follow, but apprehension rushes up my spine, forcing me to hesitate in joining what could potentially become a bloodthirsty game. As Enzo and Carlo walk off and Zane goes to join him, I know I have to say something. With Manuel not here and Lorenzo gone, my only concern is Zane.
“I don’t want you to give up your life for me,” I say, stopping him from trailing after the rest of the men. What Billy said has me recounting all the steps we’ve made. Zane’s sacrifices are going to be the death of me.
“I’m not,” he defies my worries, killing them all with a confident ooze. “I’m just merely taking a break from it until I have what I want... you.”
Again, my heart race slows before galloping into a melody of erratic beats, skipping one every now and then. He’s hell-bent and with every day – hell every minute – that he’s here, still loving me, I believe more than this will end the world.
“Now, let’s go play poker so I can treat you to something expensive with the money I’m about to steal from Giovanni as I ruin him at this game.”
“Who said you’re winning it?” I ask, cocking my hip a little to place a hand on it. I decide to listen to better judgment and believe in everything Zane has to offer – tonight I have nothing to lose by doing so. “You’ve never played against me before.”
“Okay,” he begins, sarcasm taking him over, “I’ll be buying you something expensive with your money.”
I laugh loudly, so amused by his comment. “You haven’t played against me before, Maverick.”
“Sweetheart, I can see through all of your poker faces,” he muses, fixing me with an all-knowing glance.
“We’ll see,” I tell him and waltz off, deliberately applying attitude and sensuality into every step I take, but stop when I come to the top of the stairs. I hear all the men gleefully bantering, and I turn back to Zane. “You coming, sweetheart?” I tease, throwing his own nickname for me back.
When he races toward me, I retain the urge to smirk at how excited I feel with the thrill of the game. I remember this is a game, and I need my poker face to be the best it ever has. I can’t let Zane beat me at a game I’m known for slaughtering men at. I am a poker ace, a champ who has cleared many a men out of wads of cash – even my own brothers. Tonight, I want to destroy Giovanni’s ego a little and take a little too much from Zane. Let’s just hope the odds are on my side and luck loves me.
As I move into the room, I’m quick to pick up a glass of whiskey waiting on the bar right by the entrance. My senses are overpowered by stale smoke, fresh cigars, and the smell of piss as every guy tries to wage a war on who will win and come out the bigger guy. The room, as always, is dimly lit, smoke dances around the beams of light cascading from the tiny chandeliers hanging over the large poker table.
I catch sight of my father standing with Costello. The moment he catches me in the room, I see his eyes light up and he gives me a wicked grin. I cross the room to him, knowing that if I don’t, it will insult the man. I remind myself about hierarchies and how this life works – I might be royalty, but men like Costello sit with my father in the thrones of glory. I have to obey, praise, and kiss the fuck up to men like him.
“Roberto,” I greet him, putting a smile full of seduction on my lips. I then, once close enough, kiss his cheeks with a more passionate hello. Costello takes the moment to put his arm around me, keeping me close. “Not in front of my father, Roberto.” I push him off, looking at my father who – while looking infuriated – remains calm enough to allow Costello to at least show some manners.
“Spoilt sport,” he says and relinquishes his hold on me.
I fall away, stumbling a few steps until I hit someone. I turn and see Zane. He looks emblazoned with Costello and I know that show of manhandling did nothing to make Zane an enamored soul to a man he has to kiss the hand of. I brace myself with a fake exterior complete with grin and friendly nature.
“Roberto, this is-”
“Zane Maverick,” Costello interjects, finishing my sentence. He puts his arm out and moves me out of the way to stick out a grubby hand to introduce himself to Zane. “We’ve heard a lot about you, but I’ve been waiting to hear from the man himself for too long.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Zane welcomes, putting his hand into Costello’s and giving him a sharp, confident handshake.