Page 68 of Corrupted Pleasure
This idea of starting the school had taken root in all of us. The truth was that we’d need millions, and it’d take us years to be able to get it together. But it gave us a goal.
Was it the right way to go about it? Heck no. Did it stop us? Fuck no.
“I can’t believe I work in the coffee shop by day and rob the mafia by night,” I muttered under my breath. Although two days ago was my last day. Most students left the campus for summer so the coffee shop closed up. They’d reopen in late August, but I wouldn't be a Yale student anymore.
“And Wynter is an Olympic ice skating champion by day and thief by night,” Juliette elaborated, her voice shuddering from laughter.
“What can I say?” Wynter retorted dryly. “I like to multitask. Though after tonight, we’ll take it easy. Maybe put together a business plan. I have to focus on my training. Nationals are coming up in six months, and with Derek being in California while I’m here, it has been hard to practice.”
“Agreed.”
And up those black marble steps we went.
CHAPTER29
Davina
Itook deep breaths in and then slowly exhaled. Wynter sat at the poker table, her back bare and looking like she knew what she was doing. The poker table out in the open, in the back of the first floor was a good choice.
My five-inch heels clicked against the marble floor of this casino. I hadn’t been into many casinos, in fact none, but I’ve seen plenty of movies with them. I’d have to say, this one was among the most luxurious ones I had ever seen. It even beat the pictures I’d seen of the Bellagio.
And in Chicago of all the places.
Gold decor everywhere, a fancy set up and glittering crystal chandeliers and mirrored walls surrounded me everywhere I looked. The center of the casino, where the poker tables were, had a high rise domed ceiling and I could see the windows of the offices that were clearly looking down on the casino floor. It was like an arena for the gladiators. Except there were only gamblers here.
My stomach hadn't unclenched since we entered this building. My heart drummed and adrenaline pumped. I didn’t know how much of this pressure I could take.
Wynter had bought five grand worth of chips, just as we agreed. Men sent hot glances her way. And just like her name, she graced them with her icy-cold glare that froze the air around her. She truly was an ice queen, on and off the ice, just as the media called her.
Except, I knew the warm side of her. She cared deeply and loved even deeper. I worried about her little arrangement with the mysterious, beautiful man in New York. I knew when she received a text from him because her face lit up with a look I’d never seen before.
I spotted Ivy in her position as we agreed, her eyes scouting the guards. Juliette did the same, pacing in a seemingly lazy circle. She was nervous though. Her eyes darted to Wynter every two minutes. It seemed as if she was timing herself because she didn’t trust herself not to search for Wynter every few seconds.
We’ve been at it for the past two hours. I was on the edge of suspense just like Juliette. Ivy too, except she’d started biting her nails. Cold sweat trickled down my back, while my hands grew clammy holding on to the champagne flute I hadn’t drunk.
A loud murmur and awed voices had me glancing at Wynter’s table. She won another poker hand. She was at three hundred grand now.
Jesus, she was good. I caught her wiping her hands down her long dress. She was nervous too. It was odd. She netted fifty thousand within the first thirty minutes. Not bad considering we brought only five thousand dollars’ worth of chips to the table. Once we reached fifty grand, we fully expected someone to show up and send her packing. Yet, nothing.
And I was surprised Wynter continued playing. She wasn’t the risk taking type.
About thirty minutes ago, one of the managers showed up. The grinning one that usually worked the second floor. Just as in the pictures, he still grinned and looked happy as he observed Wynter playing.
When we spotted him, Juliette rushed to him and played a drunken young woman. She managed to distract him for all of thirty seconds. Figure that, she wasn’t his type. Then he continued to Wynter’s table.
I’d give Wynter credit though. She kept her cool. Maybe it was the reason she continued playing. It would have looked suspicious if she bolted when the floor manager showed up.
I watched him circle the table for the fifth time and stop two seats over from Wynter, his eyes on her. The old man might have a jolly personality, but he also had a keen eye. I feared he was catching on to us.
Fuck! Should I do Rue’s whistle? Wait it out?
My eyes skimmed over the room and I instantly went on alert. I couldn’t quite see their faces, only their profiles. The two moved as one, like two panthers going for their prey. They moved across the floor and I knew, justknew, they were part of the Syndicate.
He glanced around. And I recognized him. Shit, it was the guy from Liam’s club. Dante.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Taller than most of the people in this room made them harder to ignore. Not that you would, not with their faces. Both were gorgeous in their own way, one as dark as Wynter’s devil and the other dirty blonde. Both had a scruff of a beard on their faces and an animal magnetism that made everyone look their way, and then do a double take.
