Page 88 of My Mafia Queen

Vadim is not at the table, nor is he nearby.

But my intuition doesn’t want to let go of that feeling, prompting me to keep searching.

I eventually spot the Russian at the bar with two of his men.

Although he seems focused on their conversation, something tells me he’s been watching me again, and this time, Damaso has missed it.

17

CARMINA

“What about your girl?”Vadim says, and his words throw a dome of silence over the table where a few men play poker.

Vadim and Damaso are among them.

The place is so quiet now that I can hear their breaths rolling in and out of their lungs and the ice cubes melting in their short glasses filled with amber liquor.

We are in a different room with no windows, a metallic door, which is the only access to the outside world, and armed people inside.

I don’t know what has prompted Vadim to say that.

I don’t even know what that means.

I haven’t paid much attention to the game.

For one, I’m not a player and don’t know the rules. All I know is that Damaso has won quite a bit of money, and Vadim hasn’t batted a lash.

Are they betting on something?

And what do I have to do with anything?

The silence is even more concerning since it’s accompanied by diffuse tension.

Vadim’s face looks like a slab of concrete under the ceiling lights glowing over the green table.

He holds Damaso’s eyes.

Salla's face seems carved in stone.

“Excuse me?” he mutters.

“You’ve been on a winning streak tonight,” Vadim says. “You bet your girl, and I’ll match with the deal we have discussed. If you win, you keep your girl and half of the casino. If you lose, I retain control and have your girl. Boris said she was working for you. I’m sure she can work for me, too.”

No one breathes around the table.

I, for sure, don’t.

The moments trickling away feel like years.

Usually, I’m good at figuring out where Damaso is. If he’s angry, furious, cold, or ready to pounce.

Right now, I know nothing.

I can’t tell what he’s about to say or do.

His eyes are glued to Vadim’s face, who, as brazen as he is with his proposal, seems unfazed by the lack of response on Damaso’s part.

Salla drops his cards and pushes his chair back.

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