Page 52 of Milo

Andre's eyes light up as Milo shifts in his seat, his displeasure emanating off his stiff body. I avoid my employer's gaze. He's going to be pissed. I need to lie the shit out of this one.

"You can speak German? I'm impressed.” A smile creeps up on Andre’s hollow face. "Do you have German heritage?"

I was expecting Andre to be dubious about my knowledge of his language, but he looks genuinely impressed, relaxed almost. I'll just have to remember not to start spewing out French words then maybe I'll survive this evening unscathed.

I don’t miss a beat, keeping my tone level, calm. “My great grandmother was born in Germany but fled to the UK after the Second World War. I know a few phrases here and there, not too much though."

"Where in Germany was your great grandmother born?" Andre asks, pursing his lips, mirroring my original question.

"Berlin.”

"Beautiful city, is it not?" Andre rubs his chin. "That's where my family originates from as well."

"Oh.”

Henri lets out an exhausted sigh as he glances at the dealer who's been ready to flip the river for some time. "You're German, she's German, fantastic. Can we get back to the game now?" He taps his fingers against his cards. "I am one card away from bankrupting Milo."

Milo fakes a laugh; no emotion is his tone. "This game would need to last one hundred years, Henri, for you to bankrupt me. But I would like to see you try."

"And try is what I'll do," Henri grins, downing his martini and waving for a new one.

Andre's lip twitches. "In France, it's frowned upon to flaunt one's wealth. It can be interpreted as arrogance."

Milo shoots daggers at Henri's third in command, his mouth opening to say something, but I interrupt him, my tone light as I quip, "Well good thing we're in Monaco, right? I think the motto of this sovereign state is—" I tap my fingers playfully against my lips. "If you got it, flaunt it."

Henri's boisterous laugh fills the frigid silence of the room, "Excellent point, Kiara! Excellent!" He nods at the dealer. "We're ready now, flip the card."

The dealer discards the top card from the deck before flipping the next card over and sliding it toward the others on the table. 10 of spades.

"Merde!" Henri smacks the cushioning around the table, Marchello also letting out a frustrated grumble.

After one more round of bets, I grin as everyone turns over their cards. No one folded. And looking around the table at the abysmal display of poker talent, most of them should have thrown in the towel at the flop.

Except for Milo, who has a straight of 8, 9, 10, J, Q, and the man on Henri's left side who has three of kind and a high Ace.

"You bastard!" Henri shoots Milo a friendly glare, slapping his friend’s back. "Antoine almost had you! But I guess the house always wins."

"Actually…” I clear my throat, a smug smile on my face as I reveal my hand—a flush of all Spades. "It would seem that I'm the bastard."

Milo's head whips toward me, his lips curled up into a smirk. "Beginner's luck, perhaps?"

I shrug coyly as the dealer pushes my winnings toward my growing pile. "I guess we will soon find out.”

He shakes his head, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Maybe all that glitters is gold," Andre mutters, not even bothering to turn over his cards.

For the next three hours, hundreds of thousands of euros are exchanged between the six of us, the game getting sloppier as the night progresses. Binge drinking and snorting lines of cocaine do nothing for the Frenchmen except make them sore losers.

"Fuck!" Antoine roars when the last card is flipped. He runs his hand through his mousy brown hair. "I'm out. My wife is going to kill me!"

Marchello laughs, scooping up his winnings. "I think it's time to go to Sezza.” He grabs the attention of one of our many bodyguards. "Cash out for us."

Luigi nods as the six of us get up and stretch, everyone slightly wobbly and off-kilter from drinking excessively and sitting down for so long. Even with bathroom breaks, the muscles in my legs feel tense.

"Can we walk there?" I ask Milo, grabbing my fur stole off the back of the chair and wrapping it around my body. "Is it close?"

"Yes, it is only a five-minute walk.”

---