Across the table, Matteo grins like he can smell a win. “You look happier. That’s terrifying.”
I fold. “I’m not happy.”
“You’re something,” he counters, taking a sip of scotch. “I just can’t tell if it’s homicidal or something else.”
My jaw tightens. It’s something else all right. The need to get home and see my wife.
Matteo’s grin widens. “Now that’s an interesting reaction.”
I lean back, spinning a chip between my fingers. “Play your cards, cousin.”
Matteo’s eyes narrow, amused and suspicious in equal measure. “One day you’re going to tell me what’s going on with you.”
“One day,” I agree, voice smooth.
Matteo lifts his glass. “Liar.”
I clink mine against his. “Idiot.”
The game continues, yet my brain won’t shut up.
My fingers tighten around the chip until it bites my skin.
I don’t like caring.
I don’t like the way it makes me hesitate.
I don’t like that she still has the power to make my choices feel like they matter.
Across the table, Matteo laughs at something Cyrus says.
I force my attention back to the game.
But the thought of her doesn’t die.
When the hand is over, new cards are dealt.
And this one doesn’t suck.
I push a stack of chips forward, eyes fixed on the center of the table. “All in.”
And somehow, those words feel like I’m talking about something else.
Someone else.
50
Victoria
I swingmy legs over the edge of the bed, and my bare feet hit the cold floor, making a chill run up my spine.
Socks would be nice right now. Where did they go? I could have sworn I fell asleep in them . . .
As I start to search the bed, a knock sounds against the wooden door.
It’s not him.
That much I know for sure.
