bChapter /bb277 /b

b“/bI’ll y with youb,/bb” /bI said, meeting Hunter’s gaze directly. His beyes /bwidened slightly, surprised by my forwardness.

b“/bbExcellent/bb,/bb” /bHunter pulled out bthe /bchair bopposite /bme, sitting down without Invitation. His cologne–too much of it–wafted across the table. “What shall we wagerb? /bStrip poker bis /balways fun – lose a hand, lose an article of clothing.”

I let out a coldugh. “How juvenile, I have a better idea.” bI /bset down the deck bof /bcards and leaned forward. “I’ll y you at ckjack. If you lose a handb, /byou stab yourself.”

The btable /bfell silent. Hunter’s confident fa?ade faltered for bjust /ba moment before he recovered. A nervousugh escaped his throatb. /b

“Whatever you say, beautiful,” he finally replied.

Night motioned to our host, who promptly brought over a small, ornate dagger and ced it on the table. The de caught bthe /blight, bits /bedge visibly sharp. The blonde woman went pale, her heavily made–up eyes widening bin /bhorror. fn36b3 ??? ????? ???????s ??? ?????s??? ?? Find★Novel/fn36b3

“Hunterb, /bmaybe this isn’t-” she began, but Hunter cut her off with a dismissive wave.

“Actually,” Hunter said, his voice slightly higher than before, “Cynthia will y for me. If she loses, I’ll take the penalty.”

The woman looked horrified, her red lips parting in shock, but she didn’t dare refuse. She shot a pleading look at Hunter, who ignored herpletely.

I nodded to a female guest to serve as a neutral dealer. She took the seat at the head of the table, nervously taking the cards I handed

her.

“Standard rules,” I exined. “Dealer stays on 17 or higher. Closest to 21 without going over wins. Tie goes to the dealer.”

The crowd around us had grown, curious whispers circting. The dealer’s hands trembled slightly as she dealt the cards. Cynthia received a ten and a nine. Neen–a solid hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she looked at Hunter who nodded encouragingly,

“Hit me,” she said, her voice barely audible.

The dealer slid a third card across the table. Nine. Twenty–eight. Bust.

bA /bcollective gasp went up from the onlookers. Hunter’s face drained of color.

My cardsb: /ban ace and a jack. A perfect ckjack.

b“/bNatural ckjack,” I announced calmly. “You lose.”

Hunter’s face went from confusion to disbelief to anger in the span of seconds. Some nearby guests had noticed our game and were watching with undisguised fascination.

“What are they betting?b” /bI heard someone whisper.

“Why does Mr. Whitmore look so upset? bIt /bcan’t be that seriousb, /bcan it?b” /b

Monb, Sep /b

:

bI /bbfixed /bmy gaze bon /bbHunter/b. “Time bto /bbpay /bbup/bb./bb” /b

Hunter bforced /bba /bugh, bhis /bbface /bbnow /bregaining some color. “You can’t seriously bexpect/b… I mean, you’re bbeautiful/bb, /bbut surely you don’t bactually /bbwant /bbto /bbsee /bsomething bso /bviolent and bloodyb?/bb” /b

b‘/bbDon’t /bke bnow/bb,/b” Night said loudly enough for nearby bguests /bto hear. “Unless bthe /bsenator’s son doesn’t honor bhis /bbdebts/bb?/bb” /b

The bsurrounding /bcrowd grew quietb, /bawaiting Hunter’s response.

Hunter leaned close, lowering his voice. “Do you know who my father bis/bb?/bb” /b

“Do you know how little bI /bcareb?/bb” /bI replied, matching his quiet tone. “A bet’s a bet. Unless you’re admitting you’re all talk?”

The crowd around us had grown. Trapped by his own arrogance and the witnesses, Hunter reluctantly took the knife. With shaking hands, he pressed the de to his forearm and made a quick sh.

Blood immediately welled up, creating a thin crimson line against his pale skin. Several female guests gasped, covering their mouths. His date turned ghostly white, frantically pulling a silk handkerchief from her purse to wrap his arm.

Hunter pushed her away roughly, his face contorted with pain and humiliation.

“Another round,” he demanded, mming his good hand on the table. “Now.”

Chapter Comments

4

Write Comments

? SHARE