Chapter 4: Vlad

Soft chatter filled the expansive space that dripped with opulence. Above, crystal chandeliers hung off the high ceilings, casting warm glows on the velvet walls and marble floors.

Waiters in crisp white uniforms moved around in silence, serving drinks in glasses to the cream of the crop, the high rollers.

The swanky casino was bustling with activities, playing host to the members of society's elite: the rich and famous, the powerful and feared. In other words, the crème de la crème.

Sitting at the high-stakes poker table, my eyes narrowed at the game unfolding before me. The table around which players were seated was a masterpiece made of rich mahogany of inlaid mother-of-pearl.

The air was filled with the rich smell of expensive cigars and thick with tension, indicating clearly that this was no place for small bets.

I adjusted my long coat as I sat there with squinted eyes, trying to focus, surrounded by my associates. By my side, Simon was seated, observing the nature of the game. My rivals sat on the other side of the table, their faces serious and attention focused solely on the cards sliding across the smooth green felt.

The game was intense, but even with the distraction it posed, I couldn't stop my mind from drifting back to Sienna Summers: the sweet, innocent girl with an amazing aura who had caught my attention with a single glance.

Her enchanting smile kept flashing in my head, tampering with my focus.

"Hello ," her sweet voice resounded in my ears as I recalled just how beautiful she was.

I jerked my eyes up, scanning my opponents' faces in an attempt to read them, but I couldn't stay focused for more than ten seconds.

Sienna was all that I could think about.

Struggling to remain as calm and composed as I was supposed to be, I put my head down a bit, pressing my fingertips over the bridge of my nose. It wasn't helping at all. All I could see was her face.

Her gaze was mesmerizing. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief, and she had the prettiest smile I'd ever seen. Her dark hair fell in soft waves down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and accentuating her striking features.

Sienna seemed like a lovely girl, charming and fun to hang around—the exact opposite of me. But didn't physics tell us that unlike terms attract?

She was so gorgeous—beautiful in every way—and I loved beautiful things; I loved to have beautiful things. But Sienna was off the menu, and for the first time in a long time, I knew I couldn't have something I so desperately wanted. The fact that she was Paul's daughter was reason enough for me to back the hell off.

The game was still ongoing, and these fuckers were determined to win. They looked like wolves about to devour their prey, but at this table, I was no prey. I was the predator.

I was a bit out of balance; my usual control and focus were slipping, but despite that, I wasn't prepared to lose and put my winning streak at risk.

I watched the green felt closely, observing my opponents and their hands. My brain was doing a million things at once, one of which was a serious calculation for my next move.

It was a tug of war because images of Sienna kept invading my thoughts, pulling my attention away.

I could feel Simon's gaze on me. He knew that something was up. I was distracted, and he must be wondering what was going on in my head.

Discreetly, he scooted over and leaned in close. "Is everything okay?" he whispered.

"Yeah, why?" I replied, my eyes fixed on the cards in my hands.

"You seem…distracted." A slight pause came when he saw my cards. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," he added, objecting to my next move.

My opponents were watching me closely, and some of them were whispering to themselves, likely plotting my demise.

"If you call, you will lose," Simon said. "It's a shitty move, boss. Don't make it."

Running the numbers in my head, I glanced at the pile of chips at the center of the table while attempting to shake off the thoughts of Sienna that flooded my mind.

I couldn't afford to lose, so I had to force myself back into the game. I had a reputation to protect, and I wasn't going to give these losers a reason to go home happy.

They'd been anticipating my downfall, and for the past few minutes, they had a glimpse of hope that I would actually lose.

The next few rounds were a blur of bets and raises, and Simon's concern seemed to amplify by the second.

I locked eyes with Mr. Kincaid, the old man sitting directly opposite me. He'd never won against me, but tonight, he felt like he was lucky, like I was losing. He smirked at me, revealing the green stuck in his teeth.

Silently, I drummed my fingers on the table's edge, calculating and evaluating what move I'd make next.

Again, Simon saw my cards and asked, "Are you sure about this?"

I turned to him, exuding confidence. "Do you trust me?"

I knew he did, but he didn't seem sure I was making the right move.

"I do," he finally said, his tone laced with uncertainty.

"Then sit back and watch," I said.

He saw the conviction in my eyes and decided to let me do my thing.

I faced Mr. Kincaid, watching him sternly so I wouldn't miss the reaction on his face.

With a final glance at my cards, I finally made my move.

"Call," I said, pushing my chips into the center.

Tension filled the air, and I could tell that even my associates were concerned about how this would turn out. The room was charged with a sense of unease as the cards were revealed.

At this point, my gaze was fixed on Mr. Kincaid, and he seemed stressed by the way I was looking at him. His confidence was depleting by the second; he was anxious about what the cards would reveal.

"Yes!" Simon said softly as the cards showed that I had won.

Mr. Kincaid and the others had looks of shock and disbelief written all over their faces. He glared at me, gritting his teeth and frowning like that would change the fact that I was, once again, victorious.

I smirked.

He hated me, always had. But I didn't give two fucks.

Gambling was something I did for fun, not for money. I simply loved a good game, and I loved winning. Plus, putting people like Mr. Kincaid in their place always brought me joy. I loved that they hated me and couldn't do anything about it.

The rage on Kincaid's face was priceless. He was boiling, and his eyes had practically turned red.

"You did it again," Simon said to me. "But he doesn't look so happy about it." He nodded toward my rival, whose eyes closed in a silent mockery.

Kincaid was a businessman and a boss of a rival organization. He was ruthless in his dealings, at least so I heard. However, he knew better than to try anything silly around me.

This wasn't our first showdown in this casino, and each time he faced off against me, he lost. So, I guess his anger was justified. He clearly hated losing, and I had a feeling that he'd continue to try, hoping that, someday, luck would smile on him and that he'd win.

Yeah, right.

I heard my phone buzz, and, glancing at the lit screen, I squinted, a little surprised by the identity of the caller.

It was my cousin, Maksim: the Pakhan , head of the Wolkov Bratva. He was the top authority in the hierarchy, making decisions and overseeing all operations within the organization.

His call wasn't something I could ignore. I had to answer; it was mandatory.

Maksim only reached out when absolutely necessary, meaning whatever he had to say to me was important.

I whispered to Simon, asking him to keep an eye out while I went to answer the call.

What could be the issue?

Why was Maksim reaching out to me?