Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I can see her suppressing a laugh. She has no clue that Noah’s been in danger. And I’m sure Noah hasn’t told her about the mafia issues because he doesn’t want to involve other people in Roman’s business.
“Fold,” Noah says quickly in the next round, barely even seeming to glance at what his cards were in the first place.
“What? No fucking way,” Roman says, frowning down at the cards on the table. “You never fold.”
“He’s right. Noah, I can recall you literally saying you never fold, last time we played,” Rayne points out. “Granted, that was on a night when you were carrying two liquor bottles with you everywhere you went, but still.”
“Sorry. It’s not a winning hand,” Noah says, shrugging.
He’s trying to get me to leave.
But he has no clue that I’m staying right by his side, whether he refuses to play poker or not.
“Noah has to strip if he folds, right?” Hunter asks.
Roman shakes his head. “No. That’s not how we play. If you fold, you don’t participate in that round.”
“Boo,” Bree says, giving Noah a little push on his arm.
I’m starting to feel like I have a string of dynamite rigged up inside of me. It’s sitting there, ready to catch, ignite, and blow at any moment.
No need to make a scene, I tell myself.
Wait him out.
He can’t sit out here all night. I’m getting him alone at some point, whether he makes it difficult or not.
He reaches for his phone again a minute later, and mine vibrates soon after.
No one invited you to this game.
No one invited you to come in my hotel room, either, but I still got satisfaction out of it. Did you get any more texts from Maletti scum this week?
How do you know their name?
Right.
I forgot that was another piece of information that the security detail informed me about whoever’s watching Noah.
He overheard a conversation, had in broad daylight in public, between Roman and Noah today. Roman was apparently telling Noah details about who the men were, and that it’s a rival mob that only recently started having more issues with the Petrov family again.
But Noah has no clue that I know that.
He still doesn’t know I had someone watching over him while I was away, period.
Doesn’t matter how I know. Second question. Are you fucking Bree?
Impulse control has never been my strong suit, but it feels like I’m physically unable not to ask about her.
Since when do I give a fuck who Noah Vancliff sticks his dick in?
Messing with my goddamn mind.
He just puts away his phone, not responding to my question. I stay right where I am beside him, leaning over to observe the rest of the poker game.
Trying to appear calm.
Collected.
In the next round of poker, Noah gets back in the game.
Rayne deals, and Noah has a hand that should be a surefire win, three of a kind.
They go around the table, a couple of other guys fold, and eventually it gets to Noah.
He smacks his cards down, nodding up at the others. “Hope someone else is ready to strip.”
Roman’s eyes glimmer. He sets down his cards, revealing that he got a full house. “Nope. I’m not the one stripping.”
“Fuck,” I say in a low tone. “Roman actually beat you.”
Rayne is smiling across the table.
He’s the last person to put down his cards, and when he spreads them on the table, everyone erupts into shouting.
“Try a royal flush, baby,” he says.
“What the hell? This isn’t possible. You’ve been having shitty hands all night and now you get a royal flush?” Noah protests.
“You know what that means,” Rayne says. “Strip.”
Noah inhales, conceding that he’s lost. He stands up, pushing his chair back, and for the first time he glances back at me.
Those eyes.
So big and blue.
I watch him the whole time as he starts to strip.
He’s already shirtless, so he goes for the front of his jeans and undoes the top button. Bree claps and shouts, and everyone else is laughing or banging on the tabletop for a drumroll.
Noah seems to take the opportunity to channel his inner stripper, giving everyone a show.
He pulls down his front zipper slowly, then pushes down on his waistband bit by bit, showing the V-shape that leads down toward his groin. As he reveals inch after inch of skin and strips down to just his dark boxer briefs, Roman’s eyes are glued to him, too.
Finally he kicks off his jeans to a raucous round of applause and laughter, and he gives the group a little bow.
The rest of the table is even rowdier now.
I know exactly what point of drunkenness they’ve reached—that part that Noah always used to love, so much, when people move from tipsy into full-blown drunk.
And everything starts to devolve.
People break off into side conversations, and others get up to go refresh their drinks or snacks. Niko dares Oliver to jump in the pool and he does it instantly, stripping down to his own underwear before cannonballing into the deep end.