Page 76 of Ruin Me With Lies
“This ain’t a table for little girls like you, sweetheart,” one of them drawls.“You’ll lose what little ya got there.Might as well go on over to one of ‘em slots and try ya luck.Hear?”
“No need to sound worried, old man,” I reply with a sweet smile.“I won’t bite.”
He scoffs wetly.“Can’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
Half an hour later, my chips have quadrupled.The dealer offers me a tray to stack them in.His smile is polite, but I know he knows.Knows I’m counting cards.AndI know he’s already sent off some silent signal.
The geezers, however, are none the wiser.Too deep in their liquor haze, too thrilled by the illusion of control.That’s why I picked this table.They just keep betting big with sloppy grins and glazed eyes.It’s gamblers like these who keep casinos in business.
Two more winning hands, and here they come…
The men in black.Approaching from either side of the room.Took them long enough.
Chuckling under my breath, I toss a wink and a five-hundred-dollar chip to the dealer, then stand with my tray of loot in hand.Waiting.
When they reach me, they flank me without fanfare.“Ma’am, please come with us.”
“Ooh, tonight’s my lucky night,” I purr.“Getting tag-teamed by hot, tattooed men in Italian-cut suits?That’s my dirtiest fantasy.”I bite my lip and flutter my lashes.“What happens in Vegas, right?”
They don’t so much as blink.
Silent, stone-faced, they guide me off the casino floor and toward a set of ornate gold elevator doors on the far right.
We’ve just reached the elevator, one of the men scanning a card on the security panel, when Stefano steps into our path, his face taut with restrain.
“I’ll take it from here,” he tells the men, gripping my upper arm.
Without another word, he hauls me toward the double metal doors at the back, dragging me into the patron-restricted corridors.Once we’re alone in the dim hallway, he shoves me up against the wall, firm and controlled.
“What the fuck did I say about leaving the office?”he grinds out.
“I was bored.”
He studies me for several beats, eyes narrowing slightly.Then he reaches into his jacket and pulls out…
My inhaler.
What…how did he get my inhaler?
“Here.”He holds it out.“Use it.”
“Why?”I blink, thrown a bit off kilter, slightly dizzy.“I’m fine.I don’t need it right now.”
“Your breathing is off.And loud.”
It is?“I don’t—”
“Open.”He pops the cap, shakes it, and lifts it to my mouth.“Now.”
That inexplicable hint of concern in the crease of his brows is the only reason I lift my chin and seal my lips around the mouthpiece.
He pumps it once and I inhale deep, holding the breath for ten seconds to let it settle in my lungs.
“How much?”he asks, watching me closely.
I raise one finger.He nods, takes the inhaler back, and recaps it.
Strangely, my lungs feel more open.Relaxed.
