Page 52 of The Gentleman

“I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“Have I?” His smile turned predatory. “The news has been quite interested in you lately.”

She lifted her champagne, buying time. “Some players mistake a strong hand for a winning one.”

“And others,” he leaned back, revealing his holster, “forget they’re playing against someone who never loses.”

Kat’s fingers hovered over her chips. Her throat constricted, instantly dry.

Still no tell. Just that gleaming mask.

“And yet,” she lifted her glass. “You seem quite comfortable being played.”

His smile widened. “We’ll see.”

The dealer announced a new hand. Kat drew pocket aces. Under other circumstances, she would dominate this hand. Instead, she bet conservatively.

Korolov raised.

She needed his phone. Her gaze slid to the device, just inches from his hand.

“You seem very certain.” Kat raised. Half her chips. A feint.

“I am always certain, especially in recognizing what others try to conceal. All in,” Korolov said.

She hesitated—just long enough. Then called.

He revealed kings and jacks. With two kings on the table—four of a kind.

She showed her aces with appropriate dismay. “Impressive hand.”

He swept in the pot, his smile soulless. All teeth, no warmth. “Victory favors those who never blink.”

The waiter appeared with fresh champagne. Kat accepted the flute with a smile. Korolov reached for his phone, checking the screen as the waiter refreshed his drink. A text message, perhaps. A vein pulsed on his temple. He set the device face-down on the green baize, his fingertips lingering on its edge as though reluctant to release it.

Perfect.

Kat slid her hand into her clutch. She took out her compact, powdered her nose and returned it to the clutch, activating the cloning device with a subtle press.

Three minutes.

Ten inches of space between them.

A narrow window that would slam shut the moment he moved.

Her heart drummed. She checked her watch. Timer on.

She lifted her champagne flute, taking a deliberate sip.

“That was an unfortunate hand for you.” Korolov’s phone was still tantalizingly within range.

“The cards aren’t always kind.” Anything to keep him engaged to extend the download time. “But I’ve found fortune has a way of balancing, eventually.”

His gaze pinned her. A snake measuring distance. His smile remained pleasant, his body language relaxed, yet still sweat gathered under her hair at the base of her neck.

Korolov lifted his champagne. “Careful, Katarina. One wrong move and this becomes very unpleasant.”

The tech billionaire called for a drink, distracting the dealer. Kat rearranged her chips, eyes flicking to her watch.

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