One problem: I can’t stop thinking about Pippa's black stockings. When she knelt to zip up her thigh-high boots, I caught a glimpse of the lacey tops connected to a fucking garter belt. Which made me think about how it’d look attached to her panties.
And fuck me, when I threw her over my shoulder, I could have taken a good look if the elevator had a mirror. With that short goddamn skirt, I probably could have seeneverything.God, stockings with a garter belt is so?—
No.I draw the line at calling anything my stepsister wears sexy.
Ria kicks me under the table, and I realize it’s my turn to bid. I haven’t even looked at the flop. A quick glance shows me black, so I quickly knock the table.
Except now that I’m more focused, I see all the cards there are clubs, not spades. Shit, now I have to hope for a pair on the table with the next two cards. I haven’t been looking at anyone’s faces, checking their reactions. I’m playing like a fucking amateur.
The fourth card is a queen of hearts. The fucking irony. Nobody raises for the next two rounds, so I’m technically playing in the final hand, even though I’m drawing dead. Miguel tosses down a pair of queens, and I toss my cards face-down in the center.
While the dealer shuffles, I pull out my phone and check Pippa’s location. Her location is moving now, slow so I know she’s walking. Where is she going? I try to remember the restaurants on that street, but come up blank.
“Anything you wanna share with the class?” Arthur asks.
I glance up to see everyone staring at me.
“You’re not normally on your phone during breaks,” Joe says. “Get your head in the game.”
“But hey, if you don’t, that’s good for everyone else at the table,” Arthur says.
Fuck. I shove my phone back in my pocket. I won’t be able to face any of my opponents down at the next tournament if I don’t at least try to play like the total champion I am.
Pippa is fine. She’s just going to have dinner, and she’ll probably scare the guy off before dessert.
Nothing’s going to happen with him.
And that’s all it takes for me to turn the game around.
At least, that was the hope. I end up playing like shit for another five rounds, ending up the low stack on the table while I fixate on infiltrating my phone with my mind and looking at that fucking map.
I mean, what am I really afraid will happen? Pippa’s a fighter. Even if her date did try to hurt her, she’d probably take him out via a stiletto heel to the eye.
She still might take the guy home, though, and I really hate the idea of her hooking up with him in my own goddamn apartment.
I’m only able to focus once I order a shot of Twisted Devil. The burn of the whiskey down my throat makes me home in on the cards. Call it conditioning from all the shots I take during poker night with the guys.
I focus on Joe and Miguel, who are good, but I can see their tells. Once I’ve got their stacks running low, I aim at Ria and Arthur. Soon enough, I’ve gone from low stack to top stack, bullying everyone else into submission. Miguel even has to call his mom to get her approval to buy back in.
It feels good getting these guys to do what I want, playing right into my hand. If only I could play Pippa the same way.
By the time we’ve made it to the next round, only Ria has enough chips to join me at the top table. I leave my phone in my fucking pocket and beat down my opponents fast, no mercy. In under a dozen hands, I’ve won the tournament, and have my winnings wired back to my account.
It’s a cool two million, but it doesn’t give me the same victory high it usually does. When I finally check my phone, Pippa’s smiling profile pic is at some bar I don’t recognize.
Even worse, when I check my IG messages, I’ve got not one, but TWO invitations to meet up while I’m in LA, both from models I’ve had my eye on for a while now. We’ve been flirting through the DMs, but we haven’t been in the same city at the same time yet.
It blows that I have to turn them down. I’m just not in the mood, and I don’t think my ego could take another incident like the one in the pub after the party. I’m just not really in the mood. Hell, I don’t even feel like going back to the hotel room I booked for tonight.
I just want to go home.
I navigate to the Air Canada app to see if I can catch a late flight back to Toronto. When I see a flight that’ll get me home by midnight, I book it immediately.
Even though I doubt my stepsister will give me the welcome I deserve.
10
PIPPA
