Page 98 of Gamble with Me
“That sounds like a good strategy.” Alice smiled at me encouragingly. “But what about the game? He wants you to stand behind him.”
“I will play by his rules,” I replied instantly, refusing to endanger my position. Chester had no idea I planned to leave him and take our daughter with me.
“With this speed, he’ll get drunk soon.” I pointed at the unfinished glass of whiskey beside his chair. “He’ll lose the money and leave to get more from his wealthy friends. It’ll be my chance to take Zara and disappear.”
Alice nodded, squeezing my hand supportively. I didn’t want to spread panic, so I hadn’t told her about my suspicion that Chester had another agenda. Zyon and his brothers weren't stupid. They knew my husband could be behind something. They had surely covered all bases. And Chester might be a violent dick, but he wasn't an idiot. He wouldn’t blow the Starlight building into the air if he were still inside.
The guests’ cheering and shouting brought me back from my thoughts. A minute later, five servers with plates of birthday cake showed up, one of them handing me a generous piece.
I accepted it with a polite smile, but my stomach resolutely refused any food. I was too anxious to eat.
Alice wolfed down her cake and returned to her place to continue in the game. Players sat on their seats, but Chester was missing.
Zyon’s dark eyes pierced mine when I frowned at him, motioning to my husband’s empty chair. His brows knitted together as he waved at the security guard. He discreetly told him something, but Chester showed up before the guy could leave.
He was disheveled, and his usually flawless hair was slightly messy. His tie was loosened around his neck, and his white button-up shirt stuck out from his pants.
I gulped the bitter saliva down my tightened throat, suspecting him of having a quickie with the redhead from before. It was precisely his style. Take whatever he wanted and leave.
I cast a glance at Zyon as I stood behind my husband’s chair, noticing a gathering fury behind his look. He was tense. I could sense his possessiveness through the entire poker table.
It flew around me, wrapping around my aching, quivering body. Chester frightened me again, but Zyon’s presence erased any remains of violence and threats that he seethed at me.
The chain around my throat, created from menace, distress, and fear, lost its choking hold on me. I could breathe freely with him close. He and Zara were the only reasons I stood straight, patiently waiting for Chester’s mistake.
The game continued calmly for another half an hour. Zyon and Chester occasionally exchanged sharp remarks or perfectly aimed comments, but the atmosphere was relaxed. No one would say these two were mortal enemies until they crossed paths in a massive hand.
When I saw the number of chips they put in the middle, my breath hitched. It was a battle of cards and egos. They used money to show their superiority over one another.
In my eyes, Chester could never win over Zyon, but my husband clearly had a different opinion. He pushed against a wall built from money and power like he was on a mission to break it down.
Zyon defended himself with admirable determination. I watched the big hand with awe over their skills. They were both great poker players, and the game quickly escalated.
My head spun when Chester called a two-million-dollar bet, and Alice looked at me baffled. He kept the remaining six million behind the line, focusing on Zyon.
My heart clenched with the uncertainty of something terrible coming. My gut often warned me, and this time was no different. Something was about to happen in this hand. I was sure of it.
-46-
Zyon
The people surrounding me in the VIP lounge were like bees in a hive. They were ecstatic just for a chance to watch the big game.
In the beginning, every player put one million dollars on the table, but after almost two hours, I had ten million before me. Stefano Gravaldis won a massive pot and smiled at seven million, and Chester had eight.
I played with the chips, waiting for Alice to deal another hand. My unfinished glass of expensive scotch stared back at me from the table, but I couldn’t shove it down my throat.
Alcohol often supported my aggressive and violent behavior. In tense situations like this one, when the woman I was obsessed with gave all her attention to her husband, I couldn’t count on my common sense. My head was full of scenarios in which Chester died, lost his limbs in a painfully slow way, or was crucified.
Usually, I didn’t care when madness took over my sanity, but here, I couldn’t let my hands do their job freely. Too many witnesses were around. Killing a man at my birthday party wasn’t right, but fuck, the urge to strangle him was so intense I almost couldn’t keep myself under control.
Folding my cards, I sighed and moved the alcohol out of my sight. It irritated me to look at it when I couldn’t touch it. An annoyed smile tugged on my lips when I realized it wasthe same with Valeria. I could stare at her all day, but while her asshole of a husband was around, I couldn’t touch her without making a scene.
So, I chose to ignore her completely. It was almost an impossible task when she stood opposite me, looking like a dark goddess in her miniature dress, fishnet stockings, and extremely high heels. She was the embodiment of my dreams, and my cock twitched in my pants with the need to be buried inside her sweet wet pussy for eternity.
People probably didn’t notice that her skull makeup matched mine, but I was too aware of the similarities. It clearly indicated that she finally put two and two together and realized who her “stalker” was. My heart clenched painfully at the idea of her being pissed like hell at me, but at the same time, a calming thought appeared, soothing my growing anxiety.
She wouldn’t be here if she were furious at me. She would’ve ignored me and punished me for my foolishness in pretending I was someone else. She would’ve wanted to teach me a lesson about not playing with her feelings.
