We resume the game, my face burning whenever I glimpse Vincent’s stare.
The games continue for hours. I fight the urge to yawn. Maria and Jackie look like they want to go, but Vincent's stern expression tells me I'll have to ride it out till the end. As players leave, they toss chips to me. Should I accept them? It’d probably be insulting not to.
They cash out next to a heavily guarded man with a metal box. I stand up to go as the room empties of people. Jackie and Maria make a beeline for me.
“Finally,” she says in a hushed voice.
"Let's go.” Jackie's voice is tight. “Now.”
Vincent lounges against the wall, talking to men beside him. He stretches, and his jacket rides up his flat stomach. Metal gleams from his belt, curving into his hip.
A gun. Holy shit.
I walk quickly, keeping my head down. We pass Vincent, his head snapping toward us.
“Hey!” he booms. “I’m not done with you.”
Jesus. What does want from me?
Vincent pushes himself off the wall and approaches us, so menacing that even Maria is at a loss for words.
“We—we were headed out,” Jackie explains. “We have class tomorrow.”
“Go,” Vincent says to Jackie. “I’ll drive her home.”
Poor Jackie is too terrified to argue. His anxious eyes slide to me before meeting Maria’s. “C’mon.”
Maria frowns, her face mirroring my panic as Jackie grips her arm so tightly that her face looks pained. “Hey!”
Vincent watches them go, satisfied. He sweeps around me and touches my upper back. Then he ushers me to a secluded area of the room.
I watch my friends leave without me. Traitors.
“I—I think I should go, too.”
Swallowing hard, I suppress the urge to run away from him. I can feel his fingers hot against my back, or maybe my skin burns at his touch. He corners me against the wall, and I’m aware that we're alone. The last people in the room are packing up the tables.
Not that I mind being cornered by Vincent. I've never had the undivided attention of a man this handsome.
“Relax. I just wanted to apologize,” he says. “Sorry for the way I talked to you.”
Well, that’s not what I expected. “Oh. It’s okay.”
“When I saw someone I didn’t recognize dealing at one of my games, I was not happy.”
“I—I see.”
A smile staggers across his face, carving dimples into his cheek. He reaches out, his finger stroking my face in a surprisingly tender gesture.
"You have no idea who I am, do you?"
“Should I?”
His touch feels incredible. All that heat combined with his seductive energy makes me dizzy.
He laughs, a deep, pleasant rumble. “No, I guess not. But you will soon enough. You're good at what you do. I watched you the whole time."
The compliment, along with his smile, burns me all the way down to my toes. He looks at me like he’s never seen anything quite like me.
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“You should work for me,” he says.
Shock reverberates through my body, and then disappointment. I expected—I hoped that he would ask me out.
“Well, I’m not—I mean I’ve never—”
“You’ve opened my eyes. My players want something gorgeous to look at during games. That’s you, Adriana."
He looks at me as though he’d love to lick my body head to toe. I’ve never experienced this before. I’m astonished. All it took was a dress and some makeup.
I love it, but he scares me. “How much will you pay me?”
I almost regret asking, because he leaves my side to gather the boxed chips and returns to me.
“Whatever you make in tips after my cut. Sixty-forty.”
He gouges the box and hands the rest to me. A small heap remains. Three thousand dollars. I desperately need the money, but maybe I can negotiate a better deal.
“That seems hardly fair.”
A shadow darkens his face. “Maddon, you have some balls.”
“I want at least seventy.”
“Sixty-forty,” he growls. “Games are twice a week. You'll make good money."
He’s right. I swallow my anger and back off. “I’m sorry, Mister—?”
“—Cesare, but call me Vince. Is that a yes?” He grins as though he already knows my answer.
“Yes—wait, how do I—” I lower my voice, “I can’t deposit this in the bank, can I?”
I know this is extremely illegal, but it's only for this summer. Just to get back on my feet.
“I’ll help you with that.”
Vincent inclines his head toward the man guarded by two ape-like looking guards. He pushes the small of my back, but I want more of him wrapped around me.
When's the last time I've had sex? A few years? God, it's like all those parts in my body are waking up again.
Vincent’s arm falls away. “Ralph. Pay her out.”
The man takes the box of chips from me and hands me several thousand in cash. I count it again and stuff it in my clutch.
Vince looks at me over his iPhone. “I need your number to contact you.”
I give it to him, trying to hide my glee, but nothing indicates it's anything but business. The wind leaves my sails.
As he escorts me to the elevator, I clench my fists and ignore my discomfort. My attraction to him blazes like a five-story fire. He’ll notice. He’ll laugh at me.
He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “So, where we headed?”
“I live in the dorms at Columbia.”
"Big shot, eh? What are you studying?"
“Not sure.” I rub my arm and shrug. “I might major in math.”
“Nice.”
Translation: he couldn’t care less. I glance at the numbers blinking on the wall, my toe tapping the floor. Go faster, dammit.
“How did you learn how to play?” He’s still watching me, making me feel stripped bare.
“I picked it up in high school. Then I learned how to count cards. It’s second nature now.”
He shakes his gorgeous head, laughing. “You realize people get their fingers broken for that, right?”
A stab of anxiety reminds me to be careful with this man. “I’ve never actually done it at a casino or anything. I would never do that, but as a dealer it’s useful. I can tell when people are cheating.”
The elevator dings and shudders to a stop, but Vince doesn’t move a muscle. “You’re a strange girl.”
Strange? What does that mean? I get enough crap from my mother, and I don't need to be insulted by hot men.
The receptionist sees Vincent leaving with me and lifts her head. “Goodnight, Mr. Cesare.”
“Night.”
Doormen open the way out for me, and I want to march the six blocks to the nearest subway station, but Vincent slides up against me and grabs my arm. It's almost painful, the grip on my flesh.
The streets are completely devoid of people. I don't know how late it is—2 am, maybe? There's no one around. Just Vincent and his inescapable heat. His hand is a vice around my arm. If I screamed, no one would hear me.
Panicked, I try to lunge away from him, but he yanks me into his chest. I look up at his face half-hidden in the shadows. He has pretty eyes; they're big and expressive. Right now they're locked onto mine. He bends down like he wants to kiss me, but his mouth stops somewhere around my ear.