Not four of a kind.
I held back the fourth ace. Slipped it between two other cards in a move so smooth even Luca doesn't catch it.
The table erupts.
"Holy shit!" Rafe shouts. "She beat him! Bianca beat Dante!"
Enzo is shaking his head in disbelief. Luca is studying the cards like they might reveal secrets. Matteo is watching me with narrowed eyes.
He knows.
Of course, he knows. He knows me too well not to see it.
But he doesn't say anything. Just raises his glass in a silent toast.
"I won," Bianca says, and there's such genuine surprise in her voice it makes my chest ache. "I actually won."
"You did." I gather the cards, not meeting her eyes. "Congratulations."
"This means I can ask you for anything."
"Anything," I confirm. "One request. No refusal."
She's staring at me like she's trying to figure out if this is real. If she actually just beat me at my own game.
"I need to think about it," she says finally.
"Take your time." I stand, needing space, needing distance from the lie I just told. "It's late. We should go."
Goodbyes are said. Alessia hugs Bianca—actually hugs her—and whispers something that makes Bianca smile. The guys clap me on the back, making jokes about being dethroned.
Only Matteo pulls me aside at the door.
"You let her win," he says quietly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." His voice is low enough that only I can hear. "Four aces, Dante. I saw the flash when you dealt yourself the last card. You had four aces and you held one back."
"You're imagining things."
"I'm not. And you know what that means?" He grips my shoulder. "It means you're already too far gone. Because a man doesn't throw a game—doesn't give up control like that—unlesshe's trying to give her something she needs more than he needs to win."
"Matteo—"
"I'm not judging. I'm observing." He releases me. "Just remember what I said. Be careful. This could end badly if you're not."
"I know what I'm doing."
"I hope so." He steps back. "Because that woman in there? She's starting to matter to you. And people who matter become targets."
In the elevator down, Bianca is quiet. Happy, but quiet. Like she's holding onto the win, savoring it.
I let her have it.
Because Matteo's right about one thing—I did give her something she needed. A win. A moment of power in a situation where she has so little.
And if that makes me compromised, if that makes me attached, if that makes me a liability?
