Page 65 of Selfish Desires

Stephen watched me, his icy stare unblinking. “Those are not for sale,” he warned.

“I didn't say I wanted to buy them.” I played with another chip, this one a deep crimson. “Besides, what use do you have for an old set of poker chips?”

“That's none of your business.” He matched my defiant tone and crossed his arms over his chest. “And I think it’s about time you stopped this witch hunt you started here. Wendy is safe. I think you’re just the problem.”

I picked up a royal blue chip and tossed it inches into the air before catching it. “Hey, I have an idea.” A grin bloomed across my face, making Stephen clench his jaw. I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guy, so I figured the next best thing would be to fuck with him. “How about a quick hand? Just you and me?”

“You want to play poker with me?” Stephen jabbed a finger into his sturdy chest.

“Yes.” I grinned. “A quick one-on-one. I’m assuming you know how to play?”

“Of course I know how to play.”

“You play well?” I raised a curious eyebrow.

Stephen eyed me warily before the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “I thought you were here to talk about Wendy, not throw away your money.”

“I am,” I retorted, keeping my gaze steady. “See, if you win, I'll take your advice and stop this interrogation.”

His eyes narrowed into crescent moon slits. “And if you win?”

“I get the poker table and the chips. Oh, and obviously, I continue to talk to whoever the fuck I want to in this town about whatever I want.” I rapped my knuckles against the green tabletop before tossing the chip back into its place.

“It’s not for sale.” A dark shadow crossed his face.

“Aw, that’s not fair. Then why have it out here? That’s a terrible way to tease someone.”

“I don’t care.” Stephen waved me away, but I didn’t move an inch. “It’s not for sale.”

“Or, maybe you don’t want me to have it.” I stepped around the table, closing the gap.

“Maybe.” Stephen’s eyes raked from my face down to my chest. “Either way. Not for sale.”

“Why is that?” I leaned forward. “Did this table belong to someone special?”

“I guess you can say that.” His jaw clenched. “And, I don’t like you.” Stephen backed away an inch.

“Well, that's a pity.” I frowned. “Because I was starting to like you. Who did the table belong to?”

Stephen's lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze bore into mine unwaveringly. The silence hung heavy between us for an eternity before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Fine, you wanna play?” he spat, ignoring my question while glaring at me with an intensity that should have been reserved for deadly enemies. “But when I win, you're outta here for good.”

“Agreed.” I extended my hand toward him as if to seal the deal.

Stephen took it reluctantly, and our grip locked. Then, he pulled away abruptly and reached for an old deck of cards behind the counter.

“You deal.” I smirked as Stephen shuffled the deck with expert ease, betraying his familiarity with the game. As Stephen began dealing the cards between us, I sat back in my chair, watching his every move. This was more than just a simple game of poker. It was a power play—a battle of wills—and I intended to win.

I almost felt bad for Stephen. He had no idea what he'd gotten himself into. But then again, neither did I.

The game unfolded slowly, both of us being careful with our bets. The tension was palpable, each waiting for the other to slip up. It was an intoxicating mix of fear and exhilaration. The stakes were high, and both of us knew it.

Stephen's seasoned poker face didn't betray his hand’s quality or inner thoughts. But I noticed small things about him—the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he was unsure about a decision, how he drummed his fingers on the table when he had a good hand. Little tells that gave away his game.

He, too, was watching me closely, looking for any sign of weakness. But this was my game now, and I wouldn't lose easily.

“You got something good?” Stephen’s voice broke through my deep concentration as he threw a cheeky grin at me.

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