“Damn straight, you’re not mine. I wouldn’t be caught dead fucking a lying piece of shit like you. Is that all you’re here for, your next big break? An actress looking for arm candy and her spot in the limelight?”
“Oooh,” the rest of the guys chime in, in unison, as if that was a burn.
They’re all so fucking childish. Even now. So many years later.
Placing my hands on the edge of the poker table, I curl my fingers around it, gripping in anger. Slowly, I lean forward, mirroring him. I keep my voice sugary sweet to disguise my fury.
“Look, you don’t like me. I get it. But I’m not here to cause problems. I’m just trying to enjoy my time with Baz while I’m here, and I’m hoping you’ll be open to having me around.”
Vincent laughs, but it’s without humor. “You can cut the sweet girl act because I know your type. I know who you are, Scarlett. You’re not sweet. You have a fucking agenda, and you want to know mine? I want you gone. We all do.”
My nails start to bend with how deeply they’re digging into the table. Just as he asked, I drop the sweet act and lean back. Instead, I let them see the anger running through my veins.
“Okay,” I concede, crossing my leg over the other, raising a taunting brow. “You think I’d be caught dead with you? I’m not a liar, and I’m not a fucking actress. I’m here on a freelance writing job. Can you even manage to write a paragraph without help from someone else?” I grin wickedly when his brows take a dive, red coloring his cheeks with anger. “I didn’t think so. I don’t care what you think of me. You can fucking hate me, and I wouldn’t really give a shit because, guess what, while I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. So you might as well suck it up, buddy. And I can tell you with the utmost certainty—you don’t know me. You’ve never met a woman like me. That I can assure you.”
Vincent’s jaw is clenching. His chest is rising and falling, and he looks like he wants to murder me. Like he wants to fly out of that seat and strangle the life out of me.
Trent breaks the silence with a chuckle. “Damn. The girl has fire and claws. Who knew?”
Everyone laughs except Vincent. He’s the one I need to keep an eye out for because there’s no doubt, after I’ve just embarrassed him in front of his friends, he’ll be watching me.
The mood shifts when Baz steps back toward the table, drink in hand, with another guy beside him. I’ve never seen this man before and didn’t even notice when he got here, but he and Baz are in deep conversation.
“What do you know, another uninvited guest,” Zach drawls, starting to officially deal the cards. I seek out Baz’s eyes, and finally, as he sits next to Trent and his mystery friend sits on the other side of Marcus, he shoots me a smirk, and I see the warmth in his eyes. It calms me some.
I can do this.
It’s just a simple game of poker.
I can do this.
“Fuck off, Covington. I’m your lawyer; I’m invited to everything.”
I try to mask my surprise when I pick up my cards. So he’s Zach’s lawyer? Or does he represent them all? He looks fairly young, about mid-thirties, so not much older than the rest of the guys. I wonder what kind of shady shit the Savages are into that they would need a lawyer on retainer.
The game starts off slowly. I pay special attention to my cards and work my bottom lip between my teeth anxiously. My dad and I used to play poker years ago. It was the one time I didn’t have to share him or his praise with my sister, but I haven’t touched a deck or any cards since then. On the outside, to the rest of the guys, I probably look like a fool who doesn’t have a clue what I’m doing, but all I need is a warm-up. Playing poker is like riding a bike.
At least I hoped it would be.
“Who’s the babe?” the lawyer asks, jerking his gaze toward me. “It’s nice to see at least one of you has taste.”
Vincent guffaws, pushing green chips into the center of the table. “If you’re into gold diggers, sure. Everyone has a preference.”
My grip tightens around my cards.
“Watch it,” Baz threatens, the threat clear in his tone as he takes a sip from his tumbler. Vincent just shrugs.
“Just calling it like I see it, but as you can tell, she’s Baz’s flavor of the month.”
I can feel the lawyer’s gaze on me, but I continue staring down at my cards, trying to control my anger. I have a straight flush. This is good. I just hope it’s enough, so I can rub it in all these fuckers’ faces.
“What’re you working with over there, Scarlett? Ready to fold so soon?”
I smile a sugary sweet smile that says, “fuck you,” and I push all my chips into the center of the table. Eyes widen.
“You realize we’re playing with real money here, princess?” Marcus asks.
The sugar from my smile drips into ice. “Oh, I know. I don’t mind buying my way in.” I flatten my cards on the table and try not to let my smirk overpower this win.
“You fucking kidding?” Zach scoffs, looking at my flush and everyone else’s shit cards. There’s no disputing it. I won.
“I’m not. You can slide the rest of your chips to this princess now.” Everyone’s expressions tighten. All except Baz’s. He raises his glass to his lips for his drink but leaves it there. I can clearly see the grin. The smile he’s hiding behind his glass causes warmth to unfurl in my chest.
“I’m not surprised,” Vincent says, leaning back in his seat, glaring daggers at me. “Gold diggers are good at everything, aren’t they?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to defend myself, but if I want the upper hand around these guys, I need to play it cool. It doesn’t escape my notice, the way Baz pats Vincent roughly on the back. The pads of his fingers dig into his shoulder, and Vincent’s face tightens with pain. Baz drags him closer and says something only he can hear. The whole time Vincent watches me with a cold gleam. With each word that Baz says, Vincent’s lips get thinner and thinner until he shrugs him off, straightening his shirt.
The rest of the evening goes much the same. We play a few rounds. Though I’ve lost most of them, that first one is still going in the books for me. The guys still take jabs at me, hoping to wear me down, but I don’t. About halfway through the night, I make an excuse that I need to use the bathroom. Like the gentleman he is, Baz starts to stand, offering to escort me, but I wave him off.
“Go ahead and finish this game. I’ll be quick.”
Zach sighs in irritation. “Noah is in this one, so take the stairs down and use the one on the first floor.”
I’m dismissed that easily, and as I turn around, I don’t even have the willpower to hide my smile. I leave the billiard room with my clutch in hand, my heels clicking down the hall and down the stairs as I head to the bathroom. Actually having to pee, I do my business before I start my search. I walk with my weight on the toes of my wedges to keep the noise at a minimum. The music is helping a bit. The bass masks each click. I leave the light on in the bathroom and shut the door behind me, moving through the bottom floor.
I pass the chef’s kitchen, pass the windows overlooking the view, and cross into the back of Zach’s home. There’s a guest room on the lower level, and as I try the knob to another door, it’s an office—not as nice or as manly as Baz’s, but it’s still an office, nonetheless. The room is bathed in darkness, making it hard to see anything other than the outline of a desk and the floor-to-ceiling window boasting another spectacular view. Glancing over my shoulder, I quietly shut the door behind me and hurry across the room. Much like I did in Baz’s office, I slide open the drawers and search through the papers. I roll my eyes when I find a hearty stack of Playboy magazines.