Page 77 of Coerced Queen

“Sorry, Benson.I believe that makes me the winner.”

He leans back, his chest deflating with the long breath he blows out, and wipes his brow with the paper napkin that came with his drink.“I don’t know what to say.I can, however, say I honestly didn’t expect this.”

I shrug.“Beginner’s luck.”

On the exterior, I practice calm, but inside, I’m frightened to death.I’m scared he’s a bad loser.He may very well decide he’s not happy to part with such a big fortune.Only his impeccable reputation of honoring his debts convinced me to stage this game, but I can’t help but worry it may still go wrong.

“It would very much seem so.”He stands, offering me a hand.“Congratulations, ladybug.”

I accept the handshake.“Ladybug?”

“My mother always said ladybugs signified luck.”He scrutinizes me as if I’m a puzzle he wants to figure out.“I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.It was touch and go all the way.”

“It was a tough game.”

He nods at Fred.“Prepare the cash.”Then he addresses me again.“Do you prefer a delivery, or did you make arrangements for safe transportation?”

“We’ll take the money now.”

Fred leaves promptly, making his way to a door that’s markedofficeat the back.

“As you wish,” Benson says.“May I offer you a celebratory drink?”

I push back my chair and stand.“I would’ve liked to say yes, but I have family responsibilities waiting.”

“You put your club on the line even though there was a fifty percent chance that you’d lose.That’s rather risky.”He studies me.“May I ask why?”

“It was all or nothing.”Guilt warms my cheeks when I add, “I didn’t have the money to repay you.It was either a card game and losing After Dark or getting my bones broken.”

“I appreciate your honesty.”

He takes a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, unfolds it, and shows it to me.It’s the contract I signed for the loan.

He tears it in half and hands it to me.“I hope I’ll have the pleasure again.”

“Oh no.”My laugh is awkward.“That was way too stressful for me.”

Fred returns with two black sports bags in each hand, his arm muscles bulging under the weight.He dumps them on the table and unzips each to reveal stacks of hundred-dollar bills.“It’s all there.You can count it.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I say, nodding at him in thanks.

“I bid you well, Anya De Luca.Remember to tell your husband he’s a lucky man.”

Fred closes the bags and hands two to me before passing the rest to Livy.

“I’ll do that,” I say, suppressing the urge to run for the exit.

I nudge Livy’s shoulder as our cue to go.We walk side by side to the elevator.I keep my back straight, praying that Benson isn’t going to pull out a gun and tell me that letting me leave with my winnings was just a big, fat joke and that he knows I counted the cards.

My heart thumps between my ribs, my throat so tight it’s difficult to breathe.I pinch my eyes shut when the elevator doors open, waiting for that shot to ring out, but we step inside, and nothing happens.I don’t have the strength left to school my features.I stare at the wall as we ride down to the parking lot, unable to believe it’s been so easy.

We keep up the façade until I turn into the traffic.Neither of us speak.Outside of Benson’s territory, I pull into the first parking space.

Livy jumps from the car and leans on the side.Bent over with her hands pressed on her thighs, she drags in air like a drowning person.

I do the same, getting out and propping my weight against the cool metal of the hood.

The guards pull up behind us, both of them jumping out of the SUV and making their way over with quick strides.

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