Page 16 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

Shaking my head, I utter a single word. “What?”

A husky chuckle reverberates from him before he inches closer while my feet are still glued to the same spot. “Let’s play a game, Ace. After all, you’re good at games, aren’t you.” It’s not a question. “I mean, that is what got you here in the first place, isn’t it?”

Our gazes are still locked together as I search for a proper response. Part of me wonders what would happen if I refused, but the other part is dying from curiosity.

He must see the moment I decide I’m willing to play because his wicked mouth tugs into a knowing grin. The mysterious man in front of me has piqued my curiosity. He’s like a puzzle I’m dying to put together, and his smile is just the tip of the iceberg.

“Perfect,” he mutters under his breath before saying more loudly, “You seem as curious about me as I am about you, so let’s make it interesting. You can ask me anything, and I promise to answer. The trick is, I’m allowed to lie if I choose to do so.”

With a question on the tip of my tongue, my brows pinch together, and he calls me out on it. “What’s your question, Ace?”

I don’t like how easily he can read me, but I ask it anyway. “What’s the point in playing a game where you don’t need to tell the truth?”

The sound of his masculine laugh has a weird way of making my heart pick up a notch, and I push away the butterflies that swarm my insides when I realize I might like the sound.

Focus, Ace! I yell at myself.

Inching closer, he answers, “What’s the point of poker without a solid bluff? And you didn’t let me finish. The object of the game is to see how well you can read me. If you call me out for lying, then I have another chance to tell you the truth. But,” —he lifts his finger— “if you accuse me of lying when I’m telling the truth, then you aren’t allowed to ask me any more questions. Understand?”

I nod.

“Perfect. We each get to take turns asking each other questions until we both lose, or I decide I’m done playing.”

Sensing my agitation, he gently lifts my chin with his forefinger, forcing me to look up at him. “My game. My rules, sweetheart.”

My teeth dig into my lower lip as I watch him get distracted by the throbbing bruise on my cheekbone. Clenching his jaw, he softly drags his fingers down my sensitive skin, making my eyelids flutter for a split second. “Does it hurt?”

“Is that your question?” I bite out.

With a smoldering look, he volleys, “I suppose it is.”

“Then, no.”

His mesmerizing green eyes flare with amusement before shifting back to my swollen cheek. “Lie,” he murmurs. “Give me the truth.”

“Why would you ask a question when you already know the answer? Of course, it hurts. I just got backhanded by a damn gorilla. What’s your name?”

“Kingston.”

Searching his face, I mutter, “Truth,” calling it like it is.

He nods his approval before taking his turn. “How long have you been counting cards?”

“Professionally?”

“And recreationally,” he clarifies.

“Not long.”

“Lie.”

I grit my teeth. “As soon as I could afford a fake I.D.”

“Which is…?”

“Six years. Why did you bring me down here? This isn’t exactly normal behavior for a casino.” I leave out even for one run by the mob.

He drops his hand from my face to his side but doesn’t step back. “Maybe this is normal casino behavior for the Charlette.”

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