Page 62 of Fortune's Kiss
Holding her tight, he whispered in her ear: “There are ears everywhere.”Keeping an arm around her, he grabbed the charcoal and wrote on the canvas in shaky letters.
THE HOUSE HAS MY SOUL.
“What?”Mayté gasped.“That’s—”
Alejandro pressed his hand against her mouth.He shook his head and put a finger to his lips.
Mayté’s head raced faster.The soul was the place where hope was born, where love manifested, where … memories lived.
Alejandro slowly lowered his hand from her mouth.His eyes glowed like gems dipped in sorrow.
A lump formed in her throat.It all made sense now.The reason why he seemed uncertain about so many things.She couldn’t imagine it—all of his memoriesgone.No sense of where he had come from, or who he was.What he did … or who he loved.Her eyes stung, but now wasn’t the time to cry.She grabbed her paintbrush, squeezing it tight to keep her fingers from trembling.She painted under Alejandro’s words.
CAN WE WIN?
She had to know.Was everything she was fighting for futile?
Alejandro started to write an answer, but he hesitated.Clearly the answer was much more complicated than a yes or a no.And by the way his jaw clenched, it was an answer Mayté wouldn’t like.
“It’s not fair,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Something tickled her finger.She looked down and screamed.The biggest centipede she had ever seen curled around her finger where she once had held the paintbrush.She flailed and fell backward.All the paint supplies on the shelf had transformedinto centipedes, spiders, scorpions.They all crawled toward her with shocking speed.She tried to get away, but they climbed onto her legs, biting and stinging her.
“NO!”she shrieked.
Something grabbed her from behind.She sobbed.
“Mayté, Mayté,” Alejandro whispered.“The house is messing with you.Just breathe.”
He held her tight.She took deep breaths as warm hands gently took her wrists.When she opened her eyes, the creatures were gone.Paintbrushes and tubes of paint lay scattered around her.Her legs didn’t itch or burn.
Alejandro scooted in front of her.His hazel eyes were wide with concern.
She opened her mouth, but only a whimper came out.
“Shh, it’s okay.”His voice was soft and soothing.“I—I may have said too much.The house … reacts.It can take scheming as a threat.”He took her hands and helped her up.Behind his warmth and strength, Mayté felt a tremor.“You should return to your room.”There was a warning behind his suggestion.“And please, be careful during the next round.”
Everything comes at a price.
What was the price for knowing the gambling house’s magic—or for using it during the game?
As Alejandro led her to the door, her stomach twisted into tighter knots.
The house had helped her up until now.Was she suddenly losing its favor?
FOURTEENLo
Lo couldn’t begin to express how relieved she was when Mayté walked into the suite.That feeling vanished at the sight of her best friend’s pinched face.“What happened?”Lo stood from the bed.
“I saw Alejandro.”Mayté whispered.
Lo closed the gap between them.“Did he do something to you?”
“We talked.I—I found out that he played the game in the past.When he lost, he was given the choice to work here or return to Milagro like Señor Vásquez, b-b-but—” She shuddered.
Lo pulled her close.“Please tell me.”
She breathed the words: “The house has his soul.”
