Chapter Six

R emy

In the lavish VIP room, the scent of expensive cigars and champagne filled the air. Remy watched as FBI technicians carefully wired Cori with state-of-the-art surveillance equipment. The microphone nestled within her diamond choker like a secret waiting to be discovered, while the cameras hidden in her earrings sparkled with deceptive innocence.

"Remember, this is delicate stuff," one technician said, as he adjusted the final touches on the equipment. "Avoid any sudden movements."

"Got it," Cori replied, her voice steady. She glanced at Remy for reassurance, the hint of vulnerability in her eyes tugging at his heartstrings.

Cori had transformed herself into a glamorous poker player, donning a blond wig that framed her face in golden waves. She wore a provocative little black dress that accentuated her curves and drew attention to her necklace, the diamonds winking conspiratorially at Remy.

"It's not too late to call this all off," Remy said, as he stood by her side, unable to shake the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Yes, it is," she said, briefly leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I love you, you know," he said. Maybe his timing sucked, but it was really important to him that she knew that. Just in case things went tits up later.

"Don't make me cry," she said. "My false eyelashes won't hold up to that."

Remy's gaze swept across the lavish VIP room, his muscles tense beneath his tailored suit as he anticipated any potential threats. He knew it was crucial to maintain his bodyguard persona, and the pressure weighed heavy on his shoulders.

"I love you too," Cori said, her voice barely audible above the soft music that filled the air. Their hands intertwined, her fingers cool and delicate against his calloused skin. "But I am a little nervous."

"You got this."

A small smile played at the corners of her lips. "I know. This is what I do." She shook her head. "What I did. What should I do after all this is over?"

"Whatever you want. You'll finally have the chance to live your life without constantly looking over your shoulder. Didn't you want to be a librarian?"

She chuckled. "I did ... I do, but it sounds so tame compared to what I've been doing."

"You can do anything you want."

"I think I could get used to safe and secure, especially if you're with me."

"I've told you. There's no place I'd rather be."

Before they could continue their conversation, the FBI technicians heard something in their headsets. "He's coming," one of them said.

"We'll be right behind this wall," the other said.

They left the room quickly. A poker dealer entered from the other entrance and began to set up for the poker game. Cori slid into her seat and sipped on her seltzer with lime. Remy took his position at her shoulder. He glared at the door until it opened.

Within moments, Blackwell made his grand entrance, flanked by his menacing entourage. He brought two goons with him. Remy recognized them from the auction house. With a subtle gesture, Cori activated the microphone hidden in her necklace.

"Hello Damien," Cori purred, her voice sultry and confident. "Ready for a chance to win back what you lost?"

"More than ready." Blackwell's eyes narrowed, taking in Cori's appearance with a predatory glint.

As Blackwell settled into his chair, Remy took a deep breath, steeling himself for the dangerous game that was about to unfold. He knew he couldn't afford to let his guard down, not when Cori's life—and their future together—hung in the balance.

Remy sidled into position alongside Blackwell's bodyguards, the cold glares of recognition exchanged between them a wordless reminder of their previous encounter at the auction house.

The dealer, a well-groomed man in a crisp black uniform, efficiently sorted and stacked the chips on the green felt table. He placed two neat piles of high-denomination chips in front of Cori and Blackwell, each stack worth a staggering twenty million dollars. Of course, Cori's chips were marked so the casino knew not to pay out their amount. Just some insurance in case Blackwell won or Cor decided to cut and run.

Cori, her blond wig falling in soft waves around her face, leaned back in her chair, her posture relaxed and confident. She smiled at Blackwell, her red lips curving into a subtle challenge. Blackwell, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and calculation, returned her smile with a nod, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. The dealer began to shuffle the cards, the soft snap of the plastic filling the air. Cori and Blackwell watched him work, their gazes locked on the deck.

Little did Blackwell know that he was the real game tonight.

***

C ORI

Cori glanced at her hole cards, her expression carefully neutral. Inside, her heart raced as she saw the two aces, the strongest starting hand in Texas Hold 'Em. She breathed deeply, maintaining her composure, knowing that a single tell could give away her advantage. She wanted to come on strong. This opening hand had to lend credibility that she had won fair and square last time.

Blackwell, his cards untouched in front of him, glanced at Cori, trying to read her expression.

The dealer announced the start of the betting round. "Small blind, please."

Cori, sitting in the small blind position, tossed a chip worth $100,000 into the pot, the colorful disk landing with a soft clink.

Blackwell, in the big blind, glanced at his cards before tossing in two chips, doubling the bet.

Cori counted out three chips and pushed them forward. "Raise." Now there was $600,000 in the pot.

Blackwell, his eyes narrowing slightly, considered his options. He glanced at his cards once more before reaching for his chips, his movements deliberate and confident. "I call."

The dealer burned a card before dealing out the flop, three cards face-up on the table: the seven of hearts, the ten of clubs, and the six of diamonds. A rainbow.

The flop had missed her completely, but with her pocket aces, she still held a strong hand. She glanced at Blackwell, trying to gauge his reaction to the flop.

Blackwell seemed to be considering his options, weighing the strength of his hand against the possible hands Cori could be holding.

The dealer, his voice cutting through the tension, announced the start of the next betting round. "Action is on you, ma'am."

She glanced at Blackwell once more, her eyes searching his face for any sign of weakness or uncertainty. But his expression remained inscrutable, his dark eyes fixed on hers with a calm intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Check," she said, just to see what he would do.

Blackwell's eyebrows rose slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he quickly schooled his features back into a mask of calm. He leaned back in his chair as he considered his next move. Finally, Blackwell reached for his chips. He counted out a stack, each one worth a small fortune, and pushed them forward. "Let's make the pot an even one mill."

Interesting. Cori threw in two chips.

The dealer burned another card, before dealing out the turn card: the queen of hearts.

Cori knew that she had to keep the pressure on Blackwell, to force him to reveal the strength of his hand. But she also knew that she couldn't risk too much, not with so much that had nothing to do with the game at stake.

"Check," she said again.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand." Blackwell tossed in the chips.

Again, Cori matched it. One million, five hundred thousand in the pot.

The dealer burned another card before dealing out the river card: the two of spades.

The river card had changed nothing. Her pocket aces were all she had. But she knew that Blackwell could beat her with two pairs or three of a kind. And yet, he wasn't betting like he had a sure-fire hand.

Cori knew that she had to make a decision, to either bet big and force Blackwell to fold, or to check again and let him make the final move.

"I'll bet five hundred thousand," she said. "If you're still in, the pot will be half of what I took from you during our last session. I wonder if you're going to risk more than that on the first hand."

Blackwell glared at her, and she knew he wouldn't fold. But would he raise? And if he did, what would be the smart thing for her to do? He studied the cards on the table and then her. Finally, he reached for his chips. "Call."

She hoped her luck would hold out. Cori flipped over her hole cards, revealing the two aces.

Blackwell sourly revealed a pair of kings, a strong hand but not strong enough to beat Cori's aces.

The dealer, his voice cutting through the tension, announced the winner. "Aces win. Pot goes to the lady."

Cori, her heart soaring with the thrill of victory, reached for the pot, her fingers trembling slightly as she collected the chips. She glanced at Blackwell, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Blackwell, his expression still inscrutable, leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. He met Cori's gaze, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of admiration and calculation.

"Well played," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But the game is just beginning."

Cori, her heart still racing with the adrenaline of the moment, nodded, her smile widening. "I was hoping you'd say that."