Marco catches my eye from across the room and raises his glass in a silent toast. I nod in acknowledgment, my hand resting possessively on Carmela’s waist.
“Gentlemen,” I say, my voice carrying over the low murmur of conversation. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Carmela.”
All eyes turn to her, and I feel a surge of possessive pride. She’s a vision in that dress, her beauty outshining every other woman in the room.
I lead her around the table, introducing her to each man in turn. They greet her with polite nods and appreciative glances, but I can see the calculation in their eyes. They’re trying to figure out how she fits into the power dynamics at play.
As we reach Marco, he stands and takes Carmela’s hand, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. De Luca.”
A flare of possessiveness at the familiarity in his tone ignites, but I keep it in check. Marco is my closest friend and ally—Itrust him with my life. But something about the way he looks at Carmela still sets my teeth on edge.
I guide her to a seat beside me as the game begins and order her a glass of wine, expecting her to sit back and observe. But to my surprise, she leans forward and taps the table.
“Deal me in,” she commands.
The table goes silent for a moment before erupting into surprised laughter. I stare at her, my eyebrows raised.
“Are you sure,bella?” I ask. “This is a high stakes game.”
She meets my gaze, her eyes flashing with challenge. “I’m certain.”
I hesitate for a moment before nodding to the dealer. He slides a stack of chips toward Carmela and begins dealing the cards.
As I watch her pick up her hand, I feel a mix of pride and excitement. This boldness, this fearlessness—it’s exactly what drew me to her in the first place.
I lean back in my chair, my eyes never leaving her face as the game begins.
The cards are dealt, and the game begins. I watch Carmela intently, trying to read her expression as she studies her hand. Her face is a mask of calm concentration, giving nothing away.
“So, Mrs. De Luca,” one of the men says, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You think you’ve got what it takes to play with the big boys?”
Carmela looks up, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
The man chuckles, shaking his head. “I like a woman with spirit. But this isn’t exactly a ladies’ game, sweetheart.”
Carmela leans forward. “I’m no lady,” she says. “And I’m not your sweetheart. I’m here to play, just like everyone else.”
The table goes silent for a moment before Marco lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Silvo. You’ve got yourself a firecracker there.”
I shoot him a warning look, but pride swells in my chest.
The game continues, the banter flying fast and furious. The men seem to have accepted Carmela’s presence, but they can’t resist making the occasional joke at her expense.
As the night wears on, I watch with growing admiration as Carmela outplays one man after another, even as she grows tipsy from the wine. Her quick wit and sharp instincts serve her well at the poker table, and I can see the begrudging respect in the eyes of my associates.
The jokes and jabs at her expense slowly taper off as she accumulates a sizable stack of chips in front of her. Even Marco, usually so quick with a quip or a barb, falls silent as he watches her play.
I lean back in my chair, sipping my whiskey and studying her face. There’s a fierce determination in her eyes, a refusal to back down or be intimidated. It’s the same fire I saw in her the night we met, the same spark that drew me to her like a moth to a flame.
As the final hand is dealt, it comes down to Carmela and Hernandez, one of the most ruthless men in the room. I watch as they stare each other down, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
Hernandez pushes his remaining chips into the center of the table, a smug grin on his face. “All in,” he says, his voice dripping with confidence.
Carmela doesn’t hesitate. She matches his bet, her eyes never leaving his face.
The cards are flipped, and a collective gasp goes around the table. Carmela has a straight flush, beating Hernandez’s full house.
She reaches forward and scoops the chips toward her, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
