Page 40 of Revenge & Ruin

It had been a miracle that she hadn’t broken anything, really. However, the stitches had hurt badly. Stretching my fingers probably doesn’t make it any better, but I can’t really help it when she’s around.

It’s like a kind of tic or an itch. Something inside of me just wants to reach out and grab, take,claim.

The same sensation has had me following her around all day.

“You think I’d walk in here without backup?” I ask.

She purses her lips. They are maroon today to match that sinful red dress of hers. It’s as if she wore it just to mess with my head.

“I think you’re presumptuous,” she retorts.

“How so?”

“You think you can walk around with free reign just because my brother isn’t in the city?”

I throw her an easy smirk. “Are you offering me a collar?”

Her eyes narrow as if to see through my bravado. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Before I can respond, the croupier is knocking on the table briskly. “Buy-in is a grand.”

Lazily, I throw in my chip, along with everyone else, noting my competitors with calculated indifference. Old money patriarchs, foreign businessmen, and a kid who looks like he has more money than sense.

I don’t miss the way they all glance over to our side of the table. I’m not conceited enough to think they’re looking atme.

It’s enough to put me right back on edge.

Good,the voice of reason shouts at me.You need to be more cautious.

I turn back to see Isabella, who is worrying about her own chip between her fingers.

“You’re hesitating again,” I murmur, just low enough for her to hear.

The sound makes her jump slightly, and I’m rewarded with a cruel glare before she throws her chip into the middle of the table.

The dealer, ever the professional, begins to work his magic. I lift up my two cards, their familiar weight in my hand should be comforting, but it’s not the cards I’m thinking about.

It’s her.

More specifically,her perfume—something expensive and dangerous that she’d worn the last time we’d met. It had lingered on my skin even after I showered. The phantom scent that had followed me around these last few days is now alive and reinforced once more.

“I suppose you intend to beat me,” Isabella says, suddenly far closer than she was before.

“Perhaps,” I reply. “If there’s more than money on the line.”

Her chocolate eyes flash to mine. “You already know what I want.”

My gaze drops to her maroon lips. How easy it would be to smudge her lipstick off?

“Do I?”

She hums that same tantalizing way I’ve been dreaming of. “Full of yourself.”

“I will stop looking for your mother,” I declare suddenly.

She clicks her tongue. “I don’t trust you.”

We turn just in time to watch as the dealer lays the flop onto the felt: king of hearts, ten of spades, seven of diamonds.

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