Page 24 of Mabilia

I want to believe him. I do, but anything underworld isn’t safe. I know that. What if he plays a sore loser and gets a gun drawn on him? Or has an off day and bets more than he can afford to pay?

“I think girlfriends are allowed to worry. But just know, if I do wake up single, I’ll mourn you for a week or so before moving on,” I tell him.

“A week? That’s all I get? Fuck, babe, I guess I better up my game so I become a lot more memorable.” He closes his arms around me and pulls me to his chest. A girl could get used to being right here, pressed up against Tommy with his arms wrapped tightly around my back.

Chapter Sixteen

Ispent about an hour Googling if love at first sight was real. I know I’m a fucking idiot. But I have to know what this feeling is. The findings were inconclusive. Some researchers claim it’s nothing but a chemical reaction—lust. Others suggest that the feelings are one-sided.

I don’t believe it’s a simple chemical reaction or lust for a hot girl. I’ve seen plenty of hot girls over the years. Whatever thisfeeling is… it’s way more than that. The one-sided thing pisses me off, though. I don’t know if Mabilia is as deep in this thing as I am and that grates on my fucking nerves.

I could ask her, and I would… if I didn’t think I’d come across as a damn pussy. I also can’t risk scaring her away by coming on too strong. Mabilia is an independent woman. She’s also free-spirited, not a creature happy to be trapped, which is why I can’t give her the impression that I’m trying to trap her.

I dropped her off at her house three hours ago. I spent the first hour after that doing all my internet research and then the last two trying to get my head straight. Now I’m sitting in my car, waiting to go inside and get tonight’s game over with. Something doesn’t sit well with me about this last-minute addition to the schedule. But then again, everything has felt off lately.

I shake the unease from my thoughts, swing open the door, and get out of the car.Guess it’s time to win some poor fuck’s money.

With the duffle bag that contains one million in cash slung over a shoulder, my buy-in, I make my way to the entrance. The games are always held at different locations, never the same one twice. Tonight, we’re at a brownstone on one of the nicer parts of town.

My finger presses the bell, and a rush of adrenaline courses through me. Going after the win always gives me a high. The door swings open and a large white guy in a black-on-black suit fills the entryway. “Password?” he asks in a thick Russian accent.

“Flush,” I repeat the code that was sent to me earlier today.

“You got the buy-in?”

I hold up the duffel bag. “I’m not here for the weekend.” I smirk.

The guy moves aside, motioning for me to enter. “Down the hall, on your left. They’re set up in the dining room,” he says.

I follow his instructions, and the moment I step foot in the room, I know why tonight felt off.Because it is fucking off.I just walked into a damn ambush. It’s a good thing I Googled Mabilia’s family, because if I hadn’t, I might not know who the two men currently staring at me with daggers are.

Her father, Mikhail Petrov, the current Pakhan of the Petrov Bratva. And her grandfather, Neo Valentino, the current Don of the Donatello Crime Family—and if all the rumors are true, he’s also the Don of Dons, the man the five families of New York report to.

There is no one else here. The table is, however, set up for a game.

Walking in as if I don’t have a care in the world, I throw the duffel bag in front of me and take a seat. “Gentleman, let’s play.” I give them both an easygoing smile. I might feel like I’m about to die. No way in hell am I about to let them know that, though.

Both men continue to stare at me. I know what they’re doing. They’re trying to make me squirm, trying to get in my head. Instead of filling the awkward-as-fuck angry silence with idle chitchat, I stare back with a blank expression.

After what feels like an eternity, Mr. Petrov’s lips turn up. I don’t think it’s a smile. More like the moment when a predator realizes he caught his prey. “You know who I am?” he asks.

I nod my head. “Judging by the fact you’re here, I’m thinking you know who I am too.”

“It didn’t take long to know you like to gamble, so we’re going to play,” Mr. Petrov says.

Mr. Valentino picks up the deck. “I’ll play dealer,” he says, shuffling the cards.

“Okay.” I don’t move. I haven’t won as many games as I have because of a shit poker face.

“Let’s make the stakes interesting,” Mr. Petrov says.

“What do you have in mind?” I question, thinking he’s going to ask for more than the one million I brought with me.

“My daughter,” he says. “I win, you disappear from her life like you were never here to begin with.”

“No,” I reply before he even finishes speaking.

Both men raise their eyebrows at me. “What the fuck do you meanno?” This comes from Mabilia’s grandfather.

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