Page 16 of Don’t Say Mafia

Carl exhaled, relief rushing out of him as though I’d just spared his life. “Of course. I’ll send in my very best employees to serve you.”

I hummed out an acknowledgment, not particularly caring either way, and pushed past him before he started trying to talk to me about casino numbers.

The moment I stepped into the high roller room, the temperature immediately shifted. I would have been offended if it hadn’t, but this was the Irish mob we were talking about, and with them, you never really knew.

Declan O’Rourke locked eyes with me immediately, and we didn’t break eye contact as I crossed the floor. He had a new scar slicing through one eyebrow that he hadn’t had in the picture I’d seen of him, and I idly wondered how he’d gotten it.

He watched me the whole time the way men like him watched threats . . . cataloging, calculating, deciding how much damage they could do if things went sideways.

Spoiler alert, I could do a lot.

“This looks like fun, boys,” I drawled as I pulled out a chair and sat. The table shifted almost imperceptibly. A throat cleared. Chips were adjusted. One of the guys leaned back, giving me just enough space to pretend it was courtesy and not caution.

Declan, though? He didn’t move an inch.

He just kept staring in that beady-eyed way of his. From where I was sitting, he sort of resembled a rat.

Hadn’t his mother told him it was rude to stare?

The dealer started the next hand, the cards sliding across the felt in smooth arcs. Declan finally glanced down, lifting the corners of his cards with two fingers before setting them back in place. “Buy-in’s steep,” he said casually. “Wouldn’t want you getting in over your head.”

I stacked my chips neatly in front of me. “If I get in over my head, I’ll let you know. I assume you’ll be too busy figuring out where it all went wrong to notice.”

A few of the men around the table coughed to cover laughs, and Declan’s mouth twitched.

Three cards hit the felt. Declan studied them for half a second before tapping the table. “Check.”

“Already?” I asked. “That was fast. I thought Boston boys could last longer than that.”

He leaned back slightly. “Oh, I last,” he spat. “I just don’t waste energy on the warm-up when I know I’m taking the whole pot in the end.”

“I’m sure,” I said, tossing in a stack of chips.

Declan’s smile turned sharp. “Big talk.”

“Big stack,” I corrected, tossing in a call without breaking eye contact. “Let’s see which one holds up.”

The turn card slid down, and Declan shoved a heavy pile of chips forward. “All in.”

A ripple went around the table.

“Are you scared yet?” Declan mused, and it definitely felt like he was talking about something other than cards.

I relaxed back into my chair. “‘Scared’? That’s an interesting word.” I looked him up and down, letting my lip curl just enough. “I think I would have problems if a receding hairline and a gambling problem did me in.”

Another choked laugh came from the other end of the table. Declan coldly eyed the guy, then glanced back at me. He pushed his chips forward when the flop hit. “Careful,” he murmured. “You don’t know who you’re playing with.”

I glanced at my cards like they were mildly interesting at best. “I know exactly who I’m playing with. A man whose left eye twitches when he lies.”

His hand stilled on the felt.

The door opened, and I automatically glanced over . . . and everything in the room seemed to fade away. A woman walked in carrying a tray, and it was like someone had turned the lights up without warning.

Brown hair spilled down her back in thick, glossy waves, threaded through with auburn streaks that caught the light and made it seem like a spotlight was following her as she walked. Her eyes were a clear, striking green, bright enough to stand out even in a room designed to dazzle, framed by lashes too dark and thick to be fair. She looked completely composed, and it didn’t seem possible she couldn’t be aware of what she was doing to every man in the room.

I’d never seen someone more beautiful. And my cock was definitely in agreement. I’d actually never played poker against a murderous mobster while sporting an inconveniently obvious erection, but I guess it was good to have new experiences . . . as long as this one ended with her in my bed.

She was not the kind of woman that made you fall asleep mid-thrust.