Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Jace’s hand came to rest on my lower back, and I peered up at him. A short, tense moment passed between us, and I sensed he was thinking about what happened on my couch before Elias interrupted with his call.
“I’m sorry for kissing you,” I blurted.
Jace’s eyebrows lifted, a hint of amusement claiming his features. “Why would you be sorry about that?”
I frowned. “I didn’t ask for consent. Plus, you’ve been through some heavy stuff today, and me taking advantage of you isn’t exactly—”
“Shannon,” he said, cutting me off as his fingers slid through mine, and he tugged me close. His breath washed over my cheeks, his lips brushing my ear. “I’m yours. There’s no taking advantage. Kiss me whenever you like. I won’t hold you to it.”
I’m yours. He said it so casually, no clue how the statement had my insides in a tailspin. But what did he mean, he wouldn’t hold me to it? Was he back to the idea that I could use him for sex? I thought we’d moved past that.
I was about to respond when Isla returned, “I found where they’re keeping him. Some dude said he owes twelve grand.”
Both Jace’s and my jaws dropped. When Jace got over the fact that his cousin had lost twelve thousand euros in only one night, he said, “Okay, and he can’t pay it back?”
I’d been about to ask the same question. Jace and the rest of Astro had made a lot of money from their music careers. In fact, one of the few good things my parents had ever done was offer to look through the record contract Jace had been given. Oftentimes, musicians got screwed over with contracts, eagerly signing away their rights because they were so desperate to make it big. Astro hadn’t fallen prey to such tactics, not with a pair of sharks like my parents going over the contract with a fine tooth comb and insisting on a number of changes to benefit the band.
Anyway, all this to say, Elias should’ve had the funds to pay back what he’d lost. He’d earned a lot of money over the years. Maybe he really did have a gambling problem. It was certainly bad if he was playing poker in a dive casino like this one.
“You’re Jace Fields,” someone said, and we turned to find a man in a black shirt with thick eyebrows and a buzzcut looking us over. There was something predatory in his eyes that had me instinctively inching closer to Jace.
“That’s right,” he replied, standing tall.
“You here to bail out your bass player?”
“Well, I don’t have twelve grand on me, so no. But I can get it for you in the morning if you let Elias go now.”
The man shot him a thin lipped smile. “I’ll do you one better. We’ve another game starting soon. We’ll let you play, give you the chance to win back what your pal lost and perhaps even make a little profit for yourself. What do you say?”
Jace stared him down. “I don’t gamble.”
“Well, then—”
“But I’ll make an exception on this occasion,” he went on, and the guy grinned like the cat that got the cream. Foolish man. He thought Jace was a mark, a famous, wealthy mark.
The slimeball chuckled. “Wait by the bar. I’ll come get you in a few.” He turned and walked away.
“What are you doing? He obviously only made that offer because he’s trying to make even more money out of Elias’ foolishness. Do you even know how to play poker?” Isla questioned.
At this, Jace and I shared a look, both smiling.
“Oh, he knows how to play,” I said, and Jace’s smile transformed into a smirk.
“We both do. In fact, the person who taught us used to frequent places just like this back in his day.”
When we were kids, Jace’s dad would tell us stories about how he’d use his magic tricks and mentalism to swindle unsuspecting gamblers out of their cash. All the while, he’d teach us the game. The three of us, sometimes with the addition of Fran, would play for hours sitting at their kitchen table. Poker was hardly a game for kids, but honestly, it was a cherished childhood memory. I had no clue at the time that we’d one day find ourselves in a casino just like the ones Jay had frequented when he’d been young, poor, and in need of money.
“Let me guess, your dad?” Isla asked.
“Yep.”
“Let’s hope he taught you well enough to get Elias out of this mess,” she went on.
We went to sit by the bar, but we didn’t order anything, instead watching while a woman in her forties with giant dangly earrings won a hundred euros on a slot machine then proceeded to lose it again in quick succession. My mind went to Elias, as I wondered how he’d gotten into gambling. Then again, the band played concerts in places like Vegas and Monte Carlo. They’d even been to Macao once. Perhaps he got a taste for it there, made a few seemingly harmless bets, and then suddenly he couldn’t quit.