Ordinary ckjack is too boring,” Chris Jensen dered, leaning back in his chair at the Russian Deputy Prime Minister’s anniversary celebration. “Let’s add some stakesb./b”

We hadmandeered a secluded corner bof /bthe glittering ballroom, away from Moscow’s elite who mingled andworked across the

room.

Night’s gray eyes sparkled with mischief as he shuffled the deck. “Loser drinks a shot of vodka?”

“Absolutely not,” Chris replied firmly, adjusting his position to amodate his still–bandaged wrists. “Last time we yed drinking games, I ended up passed out in the bathtub while you were still doing tequ shots off the balcony railing.

“It’s hardly a punishment for him,” I agreed, nodding toward Night. “The man practically has vodka instead of blood.”

Night grinned. “Not my fault you two can’t handle your liquor.”

I tapped my finger against my chin, pretending to consider options. “What about ghost peppersb? /bbI /bspotted some in the kitchen earlier. fn079d This text is hosted at fin?novel/fn079d

Night’s face fell instantly. “You know I can’t handle spicy food.”

“That’s exactly the point,” Chrisughed, enjoying Night’s difort. “Perfect punishment for someone who can drink us both under the table.”

b653 /b

“Remember that ‘mild‘ curry in London?” I added, smirking at the memory. “You couldn’t

taste anything for three daysb./b”

Night scowled. “That chef was clearly trying to assassinate me. It wasn’t mild by any definition.”

“Then it’s settled,” Chris said, gesturing for me to deal. “Jade’s the dealer. We y against the house. Bust or lose to the dealer, you earn a ghost pepper.”

Twenty minutester, Night groaned as he tossed his cards down on the table. “Another bust,” he sighed, running a hand through his golden curls. “That’s thirteen ghost peppers I owe you now.”

Chris straightened his sses, a smirk ying at the corner of his mouth. “At least I’m only down eight.”

We’d been ying for nearly an hour, havingpleted over twenty rounds. As the dealer, I’d barely lost at all.

“This party is boring as hell,” Chris said, checking his watch. “Let’s get out of here. I’m dying to see him eat those peppers.”

Night’s retort died in his throat as his gaze fixed on something over my shoulder. His expression cooled instantly. “Don’t look now, but we’ve attracted some attention.”

Of course, both Chris and I immediately turned to look. A well–dressed couple was approaching our table – who had been the center of attention at the party until we arrived.

“Hunter Whitmore,” Chris murmured. “Senator Whitmore’s son.”

bI /bstudied Hunter as he approached. His suit was Armani, but it hung on his frame like it was borrowed. The woman bbeside /bhim wore diamonds that looked too heavy for her thin neck.

The man and hispanion stopped at our table. Honter’s eyes lingered on me, particrly on my fingers as they deftly shufflet the cards. His gaze was intrusive, almost predatory, sliding from my hands up to my face with an entitled appreciation.

I wouldn’t stare if I were you, Night said, his voice casual but carrying an unmistakable edge. It tends to cause problems.

Hunter’s smile didn’t waver. I couldn’t help noticing your game. Looks entertaining. Mind if I joi?

Your date can entertain you,” Night replied, nodding toward the blonde woman who shifted ufortably under his gaze.

Hunter’s smile turned smug. I think I’d find your newpanion more entertaining. Perhaps she could teach me a thing or two?i” /iHit eyes remained fixed on me, challenging Night.

Night’s fingers tensed around his ss, and I could sense his restraint wavering. Only if you’re prepared to lose more than money. Night’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Your technique doesn’t look up to par.

The tension between them crackled like electricity. Around us, other guests began to notice the confrontation, conversations quieting as attention shifted to our corner. I decided to intervene before Night decided to carve a new smile into Hunter’s face.

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