Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“I feel like I should tell you all my cards,” I said, as the dealer dealt me in. I was sitting down, but Satin was standing, leaning against me like a cat.

Satin chuckled. “I have faith in you.”

It took every fiber of strength I had in my body not to tell her, You shouldn’t. A Call of Duty tournament would one thing. But poker was not my scene.

And, sure enough, I lost the first three hands.

Satin laughed, and leaned forward to whisper in my ear in Russian—which the device still inside my ear translated for me. “You’re trying too hard—you’re here to play for the game, not the money. Act like these chips don’t matter to you.”

“How much are they worth?” I murmured back.

“You don’t want to know,” she said, her red lips curving up into a wicked smile. “But—here—my secret weapon,” she said, finally fishing the chip out of her cleavage that she’d shown me on the plane.

It was a perfect match for every chip that was on the table. I took it, added it to my betting pile—and promptly lost again.

“Baby,” she purred, rocking against me in disappointment.

I wasn’t sure what cue I should take from that. Was this version of Satin likely to date someone who was an asshole? Should I bellow and throw the table against the wall? Or should I just wrap my arm around her indulgently and ask if we could leave now, with my metaphorical tail between my legs?

Before I could decide what to do next, though, the decision was taken away from us—men with guns out burst through the high-stakes door.