Page 122 of The Devil's Thorn
He leans back in his chair, spreading his legs a little, arms loose over the sides. Like he’s deciding whether I’m worth the effort of a response.
“Depends,” he says, voice low and rough. Albanian accent curling around the word. “You here to sell something or steal something?”
I smile, unbothered. “Neither. But if Iwas, that’s a hell of a way to greet me.”
He chuckles—just a breath of it—and nods toward the seat across from him. “Sit, then. Let’s see what you’re worth.”
I slide into the chair, crossing my legs slow enough to catch his attention. His eyes dip once, then return to mine.
“I haven’t seen you before,” he says.
“I haven’t given you reason to,” I answer.
He leans forward slightly. “You usually work the floor?”
My lips curve. “Do I look like I work here?”
His gaze flicks to the dress. “You look like trouble.”
“And you look like you want it.”
That earns a smile from him. Not warm. Not kind. But interested. The kind of look that predators give each other before they decide whether to fight or fuck.
“Name?” he asks.
I take a sip of the champagne that a server silently places at the edge of the table. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“I’m asking.”
“Then it’s Isabella.”
“Isabella,” he repeats, like he’s tasting it. “And what are you doing at my table?”
I glance around us casually, then back to him. “Your table? I didn’t see your name engraved anywhere.”
Another flicker of a smirk. “You’re sharp.”
“You’d be amazed how few men enjoy that.”
“I do.” He takes a sip of his drink—vodka, neat. “But I still want to know what you’re doing here.”
I lean in a little, just enough for the gold chain at my waist to glint beneath the low lights. “I was bored.”
“You came to the casino alone?”
I shrug. “Not everyone needs an entourage to feel important.”
That makes something shift behind his eyes. He studies me, really studies me now. “Are you here to win something?” he asks.
“Maybe.” I swirl the drink in my hand. “Or maybe I’m just here to watch people lose.”
He chuckles again, and it’s deeper this time. He’s relaxed now, leaning in like the hook has already caught. “That’s dangerous talk.”
“I like dangerous things.”
He cocks his head. “You always this direct?”
“Only when I want something.”
