Page 1 of Fifth Avenue Devil

One

Nate

"Four hundred thousand," the large Iranian man next to me declares. He grunts as he pushes a towering stack of poker chips into the middle of the table.

I lift the cards in my hand just high enough so that I can see them. A pair of jacks. With the other two jacks already laid on the table, I'm fairly certain that I've got the winning hand.

The dealer turns his attention to a tall, reedy man with a thinning crown of washed-out blond hair. "Mr. Gellar? It's to you. Four hundred thousand is the ante."

"Yes, yes," Archer parries. He eyes me, screwing his mouth up like the rat-faced weasel he is.

Archer Gellar is the CEO of Gellar Industries and my biggest business rival. I’d once thought we could work together. I am the CEO of the commodities giant ViaLife, and Gellar’s dealings in oil and precious minerals meant we could have formed a partnership made in heaven.

But because Archer is such a repugnant piece of human waste, he fucked me over. On a deal that netted him a measly hundred thousand dollars, no less.

Here we are, several years later. Andrivalsisn’t a strong enough word for what we are.

No, we areenemies.

I loathe him with every fiber of my being. You do not trick Nate fucking Fordham and think you're actually going to get away with it.

"You seem awfully sure of yourself, Fordham," Archer says. He narrows his eyes at me. "I think you've got a shit hand and you're just praying that I don't call your bluff."

I remain carefully impassive. Putting my cards face down on the table, I loosen my tie. We abandoned suit jackets over an hour ago, but my tie is chafing my neck.

Instead of answering Archer's question, I turn to the waitress working the bar next to our private poker table.

"Another whiskey. Make it on the rocks this time. And for fuck's sake, turn up the air conditioning. It's hot in here."

Archer's entire face lights up with malevolent glee. "Too hot in here for you, eh?" He chuckles dryly, which turns into a wracking cough.

"Mr. Gellar, are you in or out?" The dealer's frustration is evident in his tone. "We need to move this game along, sir."

Archer grins. "I'm all in." He stands up to push all of his chips to the center of the table. "Wait." He takes off his gold wristwatch and tosses it on the pile. "That's five hundred and fifty thousand. And..." He purses his lips. "How about I throw in my daughter? Hm? She's gotta be worth, what, a hundred k?"

The dealer clears his throat. "Sir, you have been warned repeatedly about trying to wager with illegal goods. Humans are not traded over a poker game, no matter how good you feel about your chances of winning."

I shift in my seat. I don't like Gellar's casual attitude toward human trafficking any more than the next guy. But the idea of somehow owning Archer's daughter — pretty, blonde Annalise Gellar — makes a prickle of sensation gather at the nape of my neck.

Archer points at me, grinning. "Look at him. He's excited."

I frown at Archer, even though what he says is true. Owning and debasing Archer's little girl does have a certain appeal to me. But that's not what we are talking about right now.

"Gellar, get on with it," I growl.

Archer feigns a wounded look for a second. "I'm just trying to win back what you have taken from me, Nate. Have a heart."

I turn to the dealer. "Let's move this along. I don't know what funds Archer has left to play with at this point, as I’ve been picking his bones clean for the last three days of this poker tournament. But let's be done with it all. I haven't slept in a couple of days, and I have a date upstairs with my pillow."

Archer makes a disgusted sound. Before he can start whining again, the dealer turns to me. "Mr. Fordham? We have five hundred and fifty thousand on the table. Would you like--"

"Wait!" Archer grimaces. He wipes the flop sweat from his forehead onto his pants.

This is the expression of a hardened addict trying to get his fix. I've seen it many times before when I’ve attended these tournaments geared toward the ultra-rich. But none were so evident as Archer Gellar is now.

"Just wait," he says. He eyes me. "What if I put something you really wanted on the table?"

"Mr. Gellar-" The dealer does not sound amused.

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