Page 10 of Twisted Fate

“And then I wasn’t,” he confirms grimly.

“How much in total if a hundred is just from tonight?”

It takes him several painful moments before he forces the word out. “Five.”

Five hundred thousand dollars.

“Markus!” I suck in a deep breath to try to compose myself. I don’t need to be an expert in stupidity to know owing half a million dollars to someone like Damian Russo isn’t good for your health. “Okay, there has to be some way to fix this.”

“There was.” Damian nods at the duffle. “That was supposed to be a down payment, but I’m afraid I can’t take dirty laundry as collateral.”

“I’ll find Heather,” Markus says, wringing his hands. “I can get you your money.”

A devilish glimmer now sparks within Damian’s dark eyes. He’s enjoying this, the bastard.

“I have a better idea. How about we play another hand…and make it double or nothing for everything you owe me?”

“No,” I say immediately, but it’s muffled by Markus’s enthusiastic “Yes!”

Like I said before, my brother is a gambling addict. And a certifiable dumbass.

Markus meets my pained gaze. “It’s okay, Sis. Really. I’ve got this.”

I ignore him and am now speaking directly to Damian. “Please don’t do this. He’s in deep enough as it is, and he clearly isn’t thinking straight. There has to be another way to fix this.”

Ignoring me as if I’m not even there, Damian sweeps the duffle off the table and dumps it on the floor as he takes a seat next to me. “Markus? Shall we?”

Desperation claws at me. “Markus,” I whisper. My brother doesn’t even glance my way.

The deck of cards is already in Damian’s grip, and he shuffles them in one large, tattooed hand with ease. His gold and diamond watch, the same one he was wearing the first night I saw him, glints under the chandelier above the table.

Markus takes his seat, and something’s changed in his demeanor. His eyes are shining, and a smile touches his lips. The prospect of winning the hand and canceling the entire debt he owes is exciting to him.

I can barely hear anything past the sound of my heart pounding in my chest.

Despite living in Vegas for months, I’ve never personally played a hand of poker, but I know the basics enough to realize that my brother has a bad poker face and far too much confidence given the shitty spot he’s in. I can tell he’s high too—or maybe drunk. Possibly both. Not a lot, just enough for it to cloud his already cloudy judgment.

Damian, on the other hand, seems stone cold sober and oozing confidence. The devil toying with a willing sacrifice just begging to be set on fire.

Cards are shuffled, dealt out. Markus looks at his briefly, then pushes three toward Damian. Damian deals three new cards to him, takes one for himself.

Time slows, every second feeling like a thousand.

A smile touches Markus lips as he turns his cards over.

Three tens. Not bad.

Damian barely looks at them before revealing three kings in his hand.

Better. Much better.

“I win,” he says simply.

Double or nothing. In the span of a couple of minutes, Markus now owes Damian one million fucking dollars. The thought of it makes my stomach lurch. Then I almost laugh. How is owing a demon a million dollars any worse than owing him half a million? Both numbers are completely out of reach for my brother.

“Just where do you think he’s going to get that kind of money?” I ask, and it’s impossible to hide the fury in my words.

Markus says nothing, only staring at the cards in disbelief.