Page 41 of Revenge & Ruin

My heart doesn’t jump, but it beats a little harder. I glance at my cards again—ace of spades, jack of hearts. A straight is within reach.

I look up to see Isabella glancing at her own cards. Her face is impossible to read as she looks over at me again.

“I suppose this is where you expect me to say I’ll give you my mother’s location if you win?”

I shrug. “I guess it depends on how good your hand is, doesn’t it?”

For a moment, it’s as if no one else exists but us. It’s like she’s staring into my very soul as she weighs the offer before her. Her mother’s life hangs in the balance between us.

This isn’t just a game. This is war, and neither of us can afford to lose.

But it’s a war to be won without bloodshed, without risking her brother or her men.

I watch as this realization seems to dawn on her. With a flick of her golden hair, she props her chin on her hand and leans in closer.

“You have yourself a deal, Vitale.”

One of the graying, old-money patriarchs across the table is the first to act. His cold, calculating eyes sweep across the board before he checks.

It’s my turn. I tap the felt lightly. “Check.”

Beside me, she’s silent for a beat longer than necessary. She wants me to feel that pause, to feel the weight of her decision. Then, with a light tap of her manicured fingers on the table, she checks as well.

The dealer burns a card and flips the turn: nine of hearts. I’m one card away from a straight. I’ve seen worse odds.

Her elbow brushes mine lightly, a casual movement as she adjusts in her chair, but I know it’s intentional. She’s reminding me she’s here, that I can’t ignore her. I don’t look at her, though. That’s what she wants.

The patriarch pushes his chips into the pot. “Twenty thousand.”

I slide my chips in to match without hesitation. “Call.”

The heat from her gaze is unmistakable now. She’s staring at me, studying my face, but I don’t flinch. Her fingers toy withher stack of chips, the clink too rhythmic to be casual. She’s thinking. Calculating. Trying to unnerve me.

“Raise,” she says, her voice dripping with the same ice-cold certainty that gets under my skin. “Forty thousand.”

She raises the stakes without even a hint of hesitation, and her elbow brushes mine again as she leans forward slightly to toss her chips into the pot.

I can feel the tension radiating off her. It’s like electricity simmering over the top of her skin that lashes out at me whenever we touch.

I take a breath, keeping my expression neutral. There’s a chance she’s bluffing—she’s capable of that. But I’m not folding. Not to her.

“Call,” I say evenly.

The dealer burns the last card and flips over the river: queen of spades. My pulse quickens. I’ve got the straight. Ace, jack, queen, king.

She doesn’t move at first. She just stares at the cards in front of us.

Then she casually pushes all her chips forward, the pile growing into a mountain. At least half a million, if not more.

“All in,” she says, almost bored, though I know better. There’s a fire in those words, a challenge.

My mind races. She’s putting everything on the line, and it’s either a power play, or she has something equally deadly in her hand. I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She’s too calm, too composed. It’s infuriating.

“I call.” The words slip out before I can second-guess myself, and my chips join hers in the center of the table.

Around us, there’s an intake of breath. Even the croupier stares with wide eyes at the million dollars that now sit before us in plastic chips.

She finally turns her head toward me, and I meet her eyes. There’s no amusement there, just cold calculation.

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