"Because she knows I'd give it to her if she really wanted it." The truth of it surprises me. "The question is whether she wants it."
Her eyes widen slightly. She didn't expect honesty.
Neither did I.
"Deal the cards," she says finally.
Matteo deals. I look at my hand.
Three aces. A king. A ten.
Strong, but not unbeatable.
Bianca's face reveals nothing, but I can read the tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers tap once against her cards. The tiny tell she doesn't know she has.
She's got a good hand. Maybe great.
We bet. We raise. The pot grows.
I draw two cards. Get the fourth ace and another king.
Four of a kind.
Unbeatable by almost anything.
Across from me, Bianca draws one card. Just one.
Which means she's either bluffing or she's got four to a straight or flush.
I watch her reaction when she looks at her new card. The barely perceptible relaxation in her jaw. The slight curve of her lip she immediately suppresses.
She got what she needed.
Full house, probably. Maybe even a straight flush if she's incredibly lucky.
Either way, she thinks she's won.
And I could crush her. Four aces beat everything except a straight flush, and the odds of that are astronomical.
But then I think about Matteo's warning. About keeping this strategic. About not getting attached.
About the fact that if I win, I maintain control. Keep the upper hand. Ensure she knows exactly where the power lies. And I think about the look on her face when she was winning. The genuine joy. The moment of freedom in a situation where she has so little.
The decision takes less than a second.
I shift my position slightly, adjust my cards. Make it look like I'm considering my options when I've already decided.
"All in," I say.
She doesn't hesitate. "Call."
We lay down our cards.
She has a full house. Queens over tens.
Exactly what I thought.
I lay down my hand slowly. Three aces. The king. The ten.
