Page 66 of Selfish Desires

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I shot back with a smirk of my own.

The room filled with silent anticipation again as we resumed our mental warfare over the green table.

Several rounds passed in which we won and lost almost equally, keeping us both on our toes. It came down to one final showdown that could tilt the scale in either direction.

I glanced at my hand; a pair of Kings and Queens of hearts—not too shabby. Stephen pushed forward a stack of chips with more confidence than ever before. Now was the moment of truth.

“Call.” I pushed my own stack into the middle, matching his bet.

Stephen revealed his cards first; a pair of Jacks. Not bad, but it wouldn't get him across the line this time. I laid down my hand, and a silent satisfaction washed over me as I saw his face drop slightly. Stephen’s face was unreadable as he stood up abruptly, pushing back his chair with a hard scrape.

“You won,” he said curtly, offering no congratulations, only a tight-lipped acknowledgment. “If it’s not gone in an hour, the table is mine again.”

The poker chips and table were mine now. But more than that, I had won the right to continue seeking answers about Wendy without hindrance.

“Not a problem.” I waved. However, as Stephen retreated into the shadows of his shop, I couldn't help but wonder what else this small victory might have cost me.

Two hours later…

Five hundred bucks later, a few guys I found off the street carefully placed the poker table, its chairs, and coveted chips in the center of Wendy’s living room. I stepped back, observing how the new addition to Wendy’s summer decor-themed home stuck out like a sore fucking thumb.

She was going to be so pissed.

And when I heard her gasp from the front door, her reaction validated my concern.

“What the fuck, Vincent?” Wendy glared at me, still half outside. “How? Why?” She staggered over from the entrance to the table, running a finger along its edge.

“I won it.” I motioned to the table with a dumb smile and suddenly didn’t feel like the winner.

“Won it?” Wendy echoed incredulously, crossing her arms and shooting me a withering glance. “From who?”

“Stephen.” I shrugged.

“What does that even mean?”

I nodded and braced myself for the storm. Wendy's Newport home was her sanctuary, every piece chosen with thoughtful attention. This monstrous poker table surely wasn't fitting into the aesthetic she had so painstakingly curated.

She circled the table slowly, her pointed heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. I watched as she traced her fingers over the tabletop, her face unreadable.

After an eternity of silence, she turned back to me, eyes flashing dangerously. “You made a bet with Stephen, and he lost?” Her words slithered between gritted teeth. “This table meant so much to him. And you just brought it here like...like a trophy!”

“How do you know what this table meant to him?” I loomed over Wendy like a predator, and she was the prey.

“Stephen told me once when I was in his shop. He said it belonged to a good friend he lost.”

“And you didn’t think it was odd when he said that to you knowing my past?” I frowned. “Did he say who this friend was?”

“That’s not the point, Vincent. Not everything revolves around you. And no, he did not say anything about his friend.” Wendy stared me down with those mesmerizing orbs. Even when she was angry, her beauty was heartbreaking.

“I found it strange how he didn’t want to part with the table. I mean, what do you think it could mean?”

“Would you stop?” Wendy rolled her eyes.

“Seriously, I think Stephen is hiding something, and you’re always so quick to dismiss him.” I crossed my arms.

“Maybe I only dismiss him to you because you are a little jealous that he once had feelings for me. And you’re paranoid.” Wendy pointed to my forehead.

“Oh, that’s ridiculous.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. “All I’m saying is, there’s something off with the guy.”

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