Bust, and the house won.
That hand marked the beginning of her slippery decline in fortune. The bathroom break had disrupted her concentration and thrown her memory out of kilter.
Gemma watched all her hard earnings slip away, like water through her fingers. Despite the rapidly vanishing chips, she couldn’t stop playing. She was convinced concentration and luck would return to her side of the table.
She became reckless with her bets. Placing bigger ones on high-risk hands. She could hear the gasps about her, and she lost her composure further. Her hands trembled and feet shuffled under the table.
When she had been on a roll—the chips piling up—she had heard the mutters and whispers about the room. “Go watch the painted girl on the Blackjack table.”
The idea of her beauty capturing the men and bringing them to her side didn’t help her concentration. She sensed them about her, admiring the man who stood behind her, probably thinking he was extremely lucky to have such a woman. Jason, however, hadn’t said a word and barely acknowledged her winnings. He waited, content to leave her to the game, until the chips slipped out of her hands.
The house won again. Then again.
Jason rested his hand on her shoulder. “Time to go, Gemma. It’s getting late.”
The excuse given, Jason halted the game. There was a groan from the audience when she handed the croupier a chip for his efforts. The young man gave a grateful, “thank you”. Gemma picked up her clutch purse and took Jason’s proffered arm.
“Shall we?” He indicated the exit.
She waited for him as he returned the remaining chips to the cashier. He would be totting up his losses.
“Well?” she asked, scurrying alongside him as they headed towards the main entrance.
“I’m nearly twenty-five thousand euros a poorer man, my darling,” he said with a raised eyebrow.
Gemma wanted the floor to swallow her up. “Seriously. I...all that money!” Her ineptitude stunned her. “I was winning well at one point.” She tugged on his arm.
“Yes, you were. Close to thirty thousand euros up on the day. Then you went to the ladies, and God knows, you detached your brain and went silly with the bets.” He removed her hand from his arm and gave it a squeeze.
“I...don’t recall.... You’re not winding me up, Jason?” She couldn’t comprehend the amount she had lost.
“I don’t joke about money.”
They paused in the foyer while waiting for the car. The cool breeze from the outside whipped across her flushed face.
“Why you didn’t cash in when you stopped for a pee, I don’t know. Got greedy, didn’t you?” He sighed. “No self-control.”
Gemma stood straight in front of him, arms crossed. “Why didn’t you stop me then?”
S
he caught sight of the mocking glint in his eyes. “You were having fun, and that is what gambling is all about. Risk-taking entertainment. I wouldn’t have given you a substantial quantity of chips if I wasn’t prepared for you to fritter a considerable amount away.” Bending down, he kissed her trembling lips.
“Next time you gamble with our money, you will have the sense to go out on top, won’t you?” He drew back from the kerb as the Mercedes approached.
She fretted as the driver drove them back to Sublime. Over and over, she played the last few hands in her head. Yes, she had picked up piles of chips and tossed them on her cards. Perhaps they had been five-hundred-valued chips, not a hundred. She blamed the audience, the chattering hushed voices, and the constant references to her hands.
Jason composed a message on his mobile. “Remember I said there would be either a reward for you or you would reimburse me? I’m letting Enrique know which way the evening fell for you.”
He hit send, and Gemma shut her eyes, resigned to her fate. She could do nothing to halt the progress of events. It didn’t matter if she was in the mood for play or not. Jason was.
When they boarded the yacht, the crew, upon hearing of their adventure, offered their commiserations. Jason didn’t reveal the amount lost, but he made a jovial comment about Gemma bankrupting him and that he’d had to drag her out before he was unable to pay their wages. They laughed at his humour and sarcasm.
Gemma draped her wrap over the armchair in the salon and slipped off her sandals. Jason spoke to Enrique in low tones by the door to their stateroom.
“Go and prepare yourself. Ten minutes,” he instructed her as if she was an actress given her curtain call.
Maria appeared and accompanied her towards the bathroom.