Page 15 of Underground Prince

But not from Theo.

He hung back in his seat. Every now and then he’d use his thumb to raise the corners of his cards before he said something I couldn’t catch.

Theo hadn’t moved—hadn’t shifted—in the past hour and thirty minutes. He was an intense, deliberate piece of carved granite that apparently needed a macho brouhaha or cheating scandal to come alive in any way.

Theo felt my stare. He snapped his wrist, tossing in a few chips to the center of the table, all without breaking eye contact with me.

Mortified, I veered to the fridge and organized beer cans. At the rate I was going, this kitchen was going to be the most orderly poker pantry on the planet.

When I smacked two cans together, sending three toppling, that was the last straw. There was only one way to rid myself of these unwanted flutters, to kill these caterpillars that decided to hatch into butterflies my chest.

Obviously, I had to sleep with him.

Ever the great debate-settler, sex provided me with an easy cure. Once I had him—all of him—I’d lose interest.

It didn’t count that I’d never yet proven that theory, because I’d never actually felt a bone-deep attraction to anyone I’d slept with. But the one thing I had no time for and no interest in recovering, the element I refused to have roused in me, was this. Warmth. Attraction. A curiosity to uncork more.

Sex with Sax.

Easy. Emotionless. Effective.

Floorboards creaked, and I figured it was Verily coming to check on me, so I moved to count my chips with happy abandon, estimating about two hundred dollars accumulated. Sure, it was plastic, but now it was multicolored instead of all one-dollar blues. Hopefully it would magically turn green, because I just made more in three hours than I did in the same amount of time at my actual waitressing job.

“Hello, boys.”

The sultriness caught my attention. A girl with blonde hair a few shades lighter than mine, but salon perfected and curled into healthy waves, entered the room. There was a punch of youth behind her aquamarine eyes, a type of gleam that stays with those who’ve never had to face the worst of themselves.

She was dressed similarly, like a cross between a you’ve-been-a-bad-boy teacher and a sex-deprived librarian, with cleavage-baring white shirt and a tight hot-pink pencil skirt.

Another girl followed behind, essentially a sensual carbon copy, except she had black hair, light brown skin, and chocolate eyes.

The blonde one noticed my interest and her brows lifted ever so slightly as her gaze raked over me. She was either surveying her competition or simply curious at the new female blood in the room. With her neutral expression, it was hard to tell.

I raised my hand in hello.

The blonde cants her head to the side at my greeting before her eyes cut across the room to the poker table. She sauntered over without a word. I supposed I was lucky to even get a chin tip.

“I’m Sasha,” the other girl said, holding out her hand. She surveyed my pile of chips on the bar. “Not a bad haul.”

“Yeah, beats minimum wage.”

“Right?” she agreed. “At first I was petrified.”

I resisted the urge to rest my hand on her arm and collapse against her in solidarity. “Me, too. Verily had to pry me off the sidewalk. And bribe me. And promise me riches.”

Sasha laughed, a quiet, dignified sound that wouldn’t disturb the players. “You’ll get to know the regulars, start up a routine. It’s not bad at all.”

“I noticed,” I said, unconsciously flipping a chip.

“Do I sense slight disappointment?”

I settled the chip on top of one of the three stacks I’d made. “Not really. It’s been fun tonight.”

“Ah ha,” she said. “You came into this looking for action. A little sub-level adventure underneath the city streets.”

“I wouldn’t say that was my specific intention.” I pulled at the collar of my shirt, suddenly restricted.

“You look like I did a year ago. Only…” She glanced over to the table, and her voice lost some of its brightness. “Be careful what you wish for.”

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