Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
I imagined if I left, he would simply follow me.
Aside from that, I didn’t want these players to complain to my contact who wouldn’t tell me about future games because of it.
Someday, this whole ordeal would be done. Court would have occurred. Papers would be signed. And this ridiculous marriage would just be a story I pulled out at parties.
I wanted to keep my life the way I liked it: with tournaments, with casinos, with back-room games.
I wasn’t surprised when I lost the first hand to Harrison. My head wasn’t in the game. And he was the best player at the table aside from me.
But when the second hand went his way, then the third, my heartbeat started to hammer in my chest, in my ears.
What was going on?
When there was a quick refreshment break, Harrison and I stayed seated.
“You have a tell,” he said, making my spine stiffen.
“No, I don’t.” If I had a tell, I’d have lost every hand at a professional tournament.
“You didn’t,” he clarified. “But you do now.”
Before I could ask anything else, everyone filed back to their seats, the cards whispered together as they were shuffled, then we each reached for our hands.
I watched everyone else before checking my cards.
As I did, though, I saw Harrison’s gaze slip from my face to my hand.
My own followed.
And, damn him, he was right.
My thumb was turning my wedding band around my ring finger.
A nervous tick.
My hand was crap. Not so bad that I wanted to throw it all away, but not likely a winning one unless there was a small miracle.
If he hadn’t given me the rings back, if he hadn’t shown up it never would have happened.
It wasn’t enough that he’d been screwing with my mind since Vegas; now he was messing with my livelihood.
Alright, fine, this was just a game for fun. But real money was involved.
It was just the point.
Annoyed, I pulled my ring off my finger when it was my turn to ante up… and tossed it in the pot.
To his credit, Harrison had no reaction to the move even as others at the table made comments or noises.
We both knew I was going to lose my hand.
I was going to lose that ring.
But I still played my bad cards with a rolling feeling in my stomach and a strange ache in my chest.
Eventually, after trying and failing to turn my hand around, my only choice was to fold.
But Harrison?
He kept playing his.
I had no idea if he had the cards or if he was bluffing until it was time for everyone to show their cards.
And that bastard won.
“I’m out,” I said, leaving my chips, my half-finished pizza, my untouched champagne on the table, grabbing my bag, and rushing out the door.
“Ugh,” I grumbled when I was outside.
I just wanted one night of fun where I wasn’t thinking about this stupid accidental marriage, the long annulment process, and a man who—despite all this—I still found myself unbearably attracted to.
The night swallowed the sound of my footsteps almost immediately—the streets too wide, too empty, the kind of quiet that wasn’t peaceful so much as inattentive. Like the city had looked away.
I exhaled hard, shaking the tension out of my shoulders, and started walking.
Quickly, but not running.
The warehouse block stretched ahead of me, long and unbroken. Metal doors were rolled down tight. There was no reason for anyone to be out there unless they had somewhere specific to be. And I did. I just needed to get there.
I dug for my phone, ready to search for a driver.
I slowed near the corner beneath a streetlight that buzzed faintly, the glow uneven and jaundiced. It wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t bright enough either. It was the kind of light that lied about how safe things were.
Five minutes, the app said.
That was fine.
I could do five minutes.
I shifted my weight, back half-turned to the wall. I had a clear line of sight down the block as I waited.
I tucked my phone away, knowing it was always best to have my hands free in case of a bad situation.
I sucked in a deep breath.
Then I heard it.
Footsteps.
My first thought was that it was my freaking husband following me to force me to take back the stupid ring again.
But no.
Something was wrong.
They were too unhurried.
There were too many of them.
I didn’t turn immediately. This was not an abandoned area. There was a bar a few blocks away. People could be coming or going.
But I tensed.
I listened.
I took a few steps down the cross street, not wanting to look like a stationary target, someone for drunk guys to annoy.
But the footsteps slowed when mine did.
I clocked it.
Tensed.
But didn’t escalate first.
It could still be nothing.
I glanced over my shoulder casually as I stood at the end of the curb, like I was checking traffic before I crossed.