Page 111 of Forgotten Promise

Benjamin slid his hand under the back of her hair, caressing the nape of her neck. Kailani shivered.

Then Benjamin went to talk to the croupier.

“So, Kailani,” John said, the martinis relaxing him enough that he was still willing to play along. “Where are you from?”

“Oahu, Hawaii. My family has a hotel there that we’ve run for generations.”

“Do you work for the hotel?”

“I do.” Kailani took a few minutes to talk about herself, before asking John about himself. A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth as they chatted. She asked what he’d studied in school and told him about her advocacy work that she did in addition to running the hotel.

Benjamin dropped into his seat, and it took a few moments for them to get organized—each of them trading in their plaques for roulette chips, each of which was a different color to make it easy to distinguish different players’ tokens.

They chose one-euro denomination for the chips, at John’s insistence, so it took a minute for the croupier to make the necessary change from the ten thousand plaques Kailani and Benjamin handed in. John exchanged a two-thousand-euro card.

After that, they ordered drinks—Benjamin ordering each of them a mixed drink—before finally placing their first chips.

“Not a fan of gambling?” Kailani asked John after watching him hesitantly place one chip.

“I’ve never had enough money to gamble with.” John studied the stacks of chips in front of him. “Having me here is probably ruining your fun. I can’t exactly play in your leagues.” He held up the one-euro token, then pointed at the stack of plaques Kailani had left on the table. Thirty thousand euro sitting casually at her elbow. She was well off, but this was mostly Benjamin’s money because hotels didn’t generate cash the way some of the Dara family businesses did.

“The amount of money you risk is just a way of making the outcome matter. Raising the stakes. But there are other ways to do that.” Benjamin looked like an ad for some expensive perfume, lounging at the table, one hand flipping a chip between his fingers.

“You mean other things to gamble with,” John said.

“Exactly.”

“Like?” John looked at them suspiciously, and it was clear he was asking what the rules of this game were.

“Information is a good one,” Benjamin said quietly as the croupier’s rake picked up their chips. “Whoever wins the most, or loses the least, on this next roll gets to ask for a piece of information. Five-euro bet.”

“How about one euro?” John grumbled, but counted out five chips.

“Orphelins,” Kailani said, setting down five chips. The croupier caught them with the rake, then placed them on the appropriate spaces and borders for the “orphan” numbers.

“Hold on.” John scooted his chair closer to her, studying the board. “What did you just do?”

Kailani was far from an expert, but she did her best to explain call bets in French roulette. She liked this, sitting next to him, playing a game. John nodded, but ended up hesitantly placing three chips on black, and two on pair—even.

“That’s simply rude,” Benjamin said.

“Ha,” John replied.

“He’s betting the opposite of what I did downstairs with my outside bets,” Benjamin explained.

John’s simple strategy won when the ball landed on ten black.

“You win,” Benjamin said. “What do you want to know?”

John took a sip of his drink, considering. “You said your families are adversaries…so why are you two here together?”

Kailani took a long swallow of her pleasantly icy champagne before answering. “Benjamin and I had a relationship when we were young.”

“And you’re trying to get back together?”

“No. We realize the two of us…don’t work.”

John’s mouth tightened. “You want a therapist. A mediator. Someone to be a bridge.”

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