My cheeks flushed as I sank lower in my seat. “Shh!”
She shrugged with a smirk. “I’ve done that with Zane.” Still smirking, she turned to look at the other two.
Nat was blushing so hard, her face almost matched her pink Lulu set. That made us all focus on her.
“We’re married and he got me pregnant. He literally will be the daddy of my kid.”
We smiled wider.
Nat rolled her eyes, speaking lower. “Yes, of course, I’ve called him Daddy.”
Maria laughed. “Am I the only one that hasn’t done this?”
Kali waved it off. “You and Zach are too young for this. Y’all still babies.”
I laughed; it was easy to forget Maria was still the baby of the group.
“Maybe when y’all have babies…” Kali kept going, teasing her.
Maria gasped, slightly smacking Kali’s arm. “Francesca before me! I’m still just a child!”
I gasped at the sudden attack and they all broke into laughter.
Renato was a temple of money and bad decisions, wrapped in walnut wood and velvet shadows. The private club glowed under dim amber sconces, the kind of lighting that made secrets easy to keep and sins easy to excuse. Low jazz drifted through the cigar haze, thick as honey, and every table in the room was dotted with men who thought they ran New York.
Our poker table sat near the fireplace, where the flames threw dancing gold against cut-crystal glasses and stacks of chips tall enough to bruise an ego. Zach slouched opposite me, swirling bourbon like he wanted it to whisper answers. Trevor leaned back in his chair, jaw tight in mock frustration, and Zane watched his cards with that unreadable calm he always wore – deadly, poised, too intelligent for his own damn good.
I laid my card down.
“Full house.”
Groans. Eye rolls. Zach threw his head back dramatically.
“Fuck off, Matteo.”
I grinned, collecting chips as I took a slow sip of my drink. The whiskey burned in that satisfying way – heat, oak, smoke – like luxury with teeth.
“Luck always works better when you know what you’re doing.”
Trevor flicked a chip at me. “You say that like we haven’t all seen you lose.”
Yeah. I’d lost.
Last week.
Strip poker with Francesca.
When she climbed into my lap to celebrate her victory, I didn’t care about losing anything – not when I wonher.
And when I pulled off her panties – the last piece of clothing, she reagreed to our deal.
I could still see her – hair messy from laughing, lips swollen from kissing, silk nightdress slipping off her shoulder like it wanted to fall for me.
We’d been finding excuses to end up tangled in sheets ever since. Pretending it was casual. Pretending we weren’t both falling.
Hell, I thought about her even now – her laugh, her perfume sweet with saffron and danger, the way she said my name like a secret she liked having.
Her danger and power were what drew me in. I knew she didn’t need me to be her protector.
