She wasn’t intimidated by the crowds, the loud noise, or even the smoke, but Rosalie had spent her entire life socializing with the wrong crowd thanks to her father’s dealings. She was used to it and maybe even enjoyed it.
Mikhail and Lev were near the bar, and Sean stood beside the two of them. I signaled for Mikhail to follow me. I wasn’t sure if I was going to deal with Mason how I’d originally planned since Rosalie was with me, but he needed to be dealt with either way. I couldn’t have anyone else stealing from me. Not since Rosalie liked to turn my receipts into phone numbers.
She’d warned me about her spending habits, trying to scare me off by implying I wouldn’t be able to provide for her. As if I wouldn’t give her everything she asked for. I didn’t care if it was a two-dollar can of soup or a $36,000.00 wedding dress—whatever my beautiful lady wanted, my beautiful lady got.
She looked good reaping my rewards. Stunning, actually. I’d never been able to explain it well, but there was something romantic about her.
With her hand in mine, I led her through the building, past the chairs, the loud crowd, the pool tables, and the jukebox, until we reached the back. It was a dimly lit room, full of brown leather chairs arranged in a circle around a large wooden table. The sound of men chuckling and cursing wandered down the hall, mixing with the loud crash of glasses from behind the bar.
“Max brought a friend,” a stranger said to me as we walked up to the poker table. He was a tall, muscular man with a thick beard. He had a cigar placed between his thin, chapped lips, and he wore a black leather jacket and a gold chain that weighed his neck down. He gave Rosalie a leering grin as if he wanted to impress her.
Good luck.It had taken me years to finally reel the damn woman in.
I gave him a smirk. “My wife.” I introduced her casually, trying to pull her behind me.
Rosalie shot me a dark glare that said, “I am not your wife.”
Yet . . .
Of course, she had to let go of my hand and step forward confidently, extending her hand to him. “Rose.” She introduced herself with a charming smile. “It’s nice to meet you ...”
“Brandon.” He shook her hand firmly, holding it longer than I thought was necessary.
“Is Mason here?” I asked, cutting straight to the point.
He turned to me with a smirk on his lips. “Ah, Diego mentioned you need to deal with him. He’ll be here soon. In the meantime, you’re obviously a lucky guy,” he said, his gaze falling to Rosalie as if to highlight my luck. “Let’s see how lucky you are at cards.” He gestured to the table, where a dealer and three other players were waiting for us.
“I won’t be playing,” I said.
“Perhaps your lady then? Come on—join the game. It’s just a friendly round of Texas Hold’em. It isn’t too serious.”
I glanced over at Rosalie, who nodded encouragingly. I remembered how good she was at the game. She could read people’s faces. Bluffing was like second nature to her, which I knew damn well.
“Quickly,” I said.
I followed Brandon to the table, where he introduced us to the others. There was Diego, a vigilant man with a serious expression and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was the owner of the place, a former boxer turned businessman, known for his fair offers when it came to laundering.
Next to him was Cade, a scrawny man with a sharp, calculating look. Cade was an accountant by trade and had a knack for the game. He was known for his ability to calculate odds and read situations.
And then there was Vito, a broad-shouldered man with a booming laugh that could be heard above the chaos of a crowded room. Vito was the muscle, a former enforcer who’d found a new calling in gambling.
Brandon took his seat, motioning for Rosalie to join. “Let’s get started,” he said. “It’s five hundred to buy in.”
Rosalie sat down, scanning the table and taking in every detail before she held her hand out to me, silently asking for the money. I didn’t think twice before handing over the cash for her buy-in, and she took it without a second thought.
She was calm, composed, and completely in her element.
The dealer—a quiet young man with quick fingers and a fake smile—shuffled the cards and began dealing. As the first round of betting started, I stood back, observing.
Brandon leaned back in his chair with a confident smile. “So, Max, how’s business?”
“Busy,” I replied. “Lots of moving parts.”
“I can imagine,” he said, his eyes flicking to Rosalie and then back to me. “Must be nice to have someone you can trust by your side.”
I nodded, not giving him the satisfaction of a deeper response.
The game progressed, each hand revealing more about the players. Diego played conservatively; Cade was cautious butcalculated; and Vito was unpredictable, a wild card in every sense.
