Page 194 of Traitor

"I'd grant you anything you ever wanted, baby," he murmurs.

I grin, slow and wicked. He just made a mistake.

"You might regret those words," I whisper under my breath.

His brows furrow slightly, suspicion darkening his gaze. But he still smiles at me, still plays along.

I smile sweetly right back.

When I step back and admire my handiwork, the spanking paddle now hanging dead center on the trophy wall at the clubhouse, the reactions are priceless.

Bones is grinning like a lunatic, shaking his head, full of fond exasperation. Meanwhile, the rest of the brothers? Horrified. Especially Luca Romano. The man looks like someone just slapped him across the face with a dead fish.

A mafia guy turned biker. How the hell did that even happen? That's messing with my head a little. I'll have to ask Bones later.

But for now? I turn back to the room, throw my arms in the air like a victorious gladiator.

"Let's play poker!"

Ria claps her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes locked on Tank like a predator.

"I'm about to be a rich bitch!" she yells, her voice dripping with anticipation.

Tank's eyes go wide. Like she just threatened his very existence.

Three hours later, Ria is a broke woman. Turns out, her poker skills are absolute trash. Tank's aren't much better. Pops? His might actually be the worst.

And me? Well... I have a sinking suspicion that I've been played.

No one has accepted my all-ins or even my regular bets all night. Not once. Not even the small ones. And the worst part? Bones is sitting across from me with a mountain of chips, looking smug as hell. He's been ruthlessly sweeping the table, taking chips from everyone, yet somehow, I still have most of mine.

The math ain't mathing.

Whenever I raised, they all just folded. Let me have the pot without a fight. The only idiot who actually called my all-in was Domino at one point. And he had a two and a six in his hand with absolutely nothing else going for him. I took his chips with a pair of fours.

A pair of fucking fours.

I used to win against these guys all the time. Every time. And now I have to ask myself — were these assholes just letting me win? Especially the asshole in front of me.

My gaze narrows. I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, and stare at Bones, who's sitting there looking way too composed.

"Are you letting me win?"

The other tables have already cleared out. It's just us now. The rest of the guys are either playing pool or throwing back drinks at the bar.

Bones smirks, completely at ease, and shakes his head. "No chance, baby. Your winnings are all yours," the bastard lies.

Then, his smirk turns into something slower. Darker. Hungrier.

"Are you getting psyched out?" he taunts, leaning forward slightly, voice dropping just enough to make my stomach flip. "Losing your confidence?"

I huff. "You wish! I'll take everything you have, big man!"

His chuckle is lethal.

"Ok, tiger. Settle down." He tilts his head, watching me closely. Then he leans in, voice dipping even lower. "Let's make this interesting, shall we?"

My pulse spikes.

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