Page 41 of Niccolo

I got hit on a lot, though. Even the poker math nerds were more socially adept than the average chess tournament player – and the gym bros were alotmore forward.

I turned them all down. I was too focused on the money.

I never felt even a whisper of a desire for a man…

Until I met one in particular.

And then the attraction was so overpowering it nearly destroyed me.

But another man tried to destroy me first. I just didn’t realize it at the time.

He wasn’t a gambler, though.

He was a mafia don.

19

Ihad just finished fifth in the Italian Poker Open in San Remo.

I wasn’t happy about it. I’d thought I’d had a real shot at going all the way, but I’d busted out in the finals when I wrongly thought an opponent was bluffing.

However, I kept reminding myself that it wasn’t bad, considering I had played my first-ever poker hand six months prior.

Additionally, fifth place was my best showing to date – and had netted me 47,000 euros (a little over $50,000 US).

It wasn’t enough to entirely fund the lawsuit, but it was a hell of a lot more money than I’d ever made playing chess, that was for sure.

What stung the most, though, was that first prize had been a million euros.

That amount could have changed my entire life.

It was hard to let it go, especially when I thought I had a good chance of winning.

Once I was out of the tournament, I left. I didn’t care to stay to watch the finale; I would watch the videos later online to study the remaining players’ patterns.

Despite my newly chosen vocation, I hated casinos – mostly because I hated huge crowds of people.

I wanted to win my money and get out. That was it.

As I hurried across the casino floor, I saw a man approaching me. I’d seen him several times over the last couple of days, always watching me intently. I doubted he saw me watching him back, seeing as I still had on the sunglasses I used during tournaments to conceal my eyes.

I might have written him off as a rich fat cat looking for a much younger mistress. There were always men like that hanging around casinos.

But there was something about this fellow that was different. His gaze was more calculating than lecherous.

As he approached me, I took the time to study him. He wore a very expensive three-piece suit that didn’t quite hide his belly. He had a mustache and goatee, and his black hair was grizzled at the temples. Strands of grey also streaked his beard.

He smiled as he approached. “Miss Toscani?”

“What?” I said as I brushed past him.

I was rude, I’ll admit, but I had no interest in talking to him.

He immediately turned around and began walking next to me. “I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time.”

“I don’t date older men.”

Which was true.

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