Page 110

I look at Audra, worried the incident shook her. "It's okay if you don't want to?—"

She doesn't let me finish. "I'm fine."

Before I can answer, Audra moves. She slips behind the dealer's spot with surprising grace, black silk hugging every curve as she reaches for the fresh deck. My breath catches. I expected hesitation. Maybe even fear after what just happened. Instead, she squares the cards between her hands and begins to shuffle like she was born with them in her fingers.

Fuck.

One fluid riffle, then she splits the deck and does a perfect waterfall. The cards cascade through the air in a smooth,hypnotic arc before snapping back together. She follows it with a quick one-handed cut and a flashy spin that makes the edges blur. The table goes quiet for half a second. Even Grigori's eyebrows lift.

"What kind of poker are we playing tonight, gentlemen?" she asks, voice cool, professional, and steady as steel.

I have to clear my throat before I can speak. "Texas Hold'em. No limit."

She nods once, already breaking the deck into two piles. "Ante up, please."

Fucking hell. I thought I was bringing her here as a gift. Something to let her live out an old dream while I kept her safe and close. Instead, she's owning the table like she's been dealing high-stakes games her whole life. The way her fingers move—precise, confident, almost seductive—has my cock throbbing painfully against my zipper. I was hard the second I saw her in that black dress. Now? I'm aching.

She burns the top card, then deals the hole cards with crisp, elegant flicks. Each card lands perfectly in front of every player. When she slides mine across the felt, her eyes lift to mine for a fraction of a second. Heat flares between us, dark, hungry, and electric. I give her a slow wink. Her cheeks flush the faintest pink, but her hands never falter.

Good girl.

The others toss in their chips. Grigori slides a fat stack forward with a lazy grin, the psychopath actually winking at me through the thick smoke of his cigar, like this is all foreplay to him. I'm still pissed he beat me to the punch with the doctor, but he's Bratva royalty here on business, so I keep my mouth shut.

"Raise," Alessio mutters, tossing more chips in.

Audra watches the action like a hawk, her expression unreadable, professional. But when her gaze drifts back to mebetween hands, there's something else there, something raw and wanting that makes my blood burn. She's killing me.

She's showing every man at this table—including me—that she doesn't need protecting. Not here. Not with cards in her hands. She's magnificent. The game moves fast. Chips clack. Curses fly when the flop hits. When Damiano drags in a massive pot with a full house, he tips her generously, and two black chips slide across the felt with a respectful nod.

"Beautifully dealt, Miss Hale."

Audra gives him a small, professional smile. "Thank you."

But when she looks at me again, that smile shifts. Softer. Hotter. Just for me. Another wave of pure lust rolls through me. I want to bend her over this fucking table in front of all of them and remind her exactly who she belongs to.

She deals the next round, and I catch the subtle way she bites her lip when our eyes lock again. The guilt is still there—I can see it flickering behind her eyes—but so is the hunger. The same hunger that's been clawing at me since the moment I laid eyes on her. This woman is going to be the death of me. And I'm going to enjoy every second of it.

The game moves around me, but I'm barely in it. Fortunes shift across the felt. I couldn't tell you if I'm up or down three million. My eyes stay glued to her—Audra—every precise movement of her hands, the way the black silk stretches across her breasts when she leans forward to burn a card, the focused line between her brows. She's a fucking vision behind that table.

Alessio wins a massive pot off me with a rivered straight. He leans back, grinning like a shark. "Yo, Gabe. Where the fuck is your head tonight, man?"

Damiano barks a laugh. "His other head's got all the blood, clearly."

The whole table erupts. Even Grigori chuckles around his cigar. Audra doesn't miss a beat. She arches one elegant brow, dealing the next round with flawless precision.

"Gentlemen," she says smoothly, her voice is as soft velvet over steel, "if you're going to discuss anatomy at my table, at least wait until I'm not holding the deck. Some of us are trying to work."

A stunned second of silence, then the entire table explodes with deep, appreciative laughter. Grigori actually slaps the felt, eyes gleaming with respect.

"Fuck, I like her," he mutters.

I'm gone. Completely fucking smitten. My chest feels too tight and my cock too hard, and every smart, fearless word out of her mouth winds me tighter. Grigori suddenly points his cigar toward another high-stakes table across the room. "Who's that asshole over there with the crazy eyes?"

I follow his gaze. "Rodney Billing. Our beloved mayor."

Grigori's smile turns feral. "He'll be dead soon."

I nod once. "I don't like his eyes either."