I never did anything too fancy. I mixed myself a quick gin and soda and downed it. I was heading out tonight. London was full of places to go and get into trouble if that was what you were looking for. I preferred New York, but that was just because of the distance mostly. American girls loved the accent and there was so much you could get away with once they knew you were a any kind of titled gentleman. They loved that British aristocracy shit. I never used the title to get girls these days. I wasn’t really on the hunt anymore.
My suite was huge but I still felt strangely closed in. After one more drink, enough to get a little bit of a buzz going, I headed out. Right across the street from the hotel was a casino. There was a fine drizzle coming down as usual. I put a jacket on and went. I was greeted at the entrance by name. This place was exclusive, exclusive and old. The members list featured international businessmen, celebrities and members of various country’s royal families. Hobbyists didn't come here, only people hoping to do some serious damage. All the men in my family were members but as far as I knew, I got the most mileage out of mine.
There was something about casinos that felt like home to me. The chandeliers and opulent interiors weren't my thing, but I like to play with fire. I liked it when the odds were not in my favor. I went straight for the poker tables and got out some cash. There were a couple of guys at the table already and they grunted in admiration. I didn't play small. I hailed the passing waiter and ordered a scotch, and then the game began.
“All in,” I said.
“Are you sure?” the dealer asked. Yes, I was sure. I was chronically lucky. It was a problem. I didn’t care about the money. I didn’t care that the house always won. I was yet to see it since that didn’t seem to be the case with me. I had more money than I could hope to burn through in this or several more lifetimes.
In a perfect world, I was disinherited for being such a fuck up. That perfect world would have been crafted by my father. My worst crime against him had been going against my purpose as his son and heir to his estate. He could still do whatever he wanted to me; I had the mother of all safety notes. When my mother died, I got everything, and it was a lot. It was ungrateful to say, but fuck it, I was just ungrateful then. I had never had to worry about money in my life and I never would, but I always wondered what my life would look like without it.
Normal parents who let me be myself. Who loved me, who were interested in what I wanted and who I was? I was desperate for that as a kid and never got it. As far as I was concerned, it was the money’s fault. The money meant expectations and tradition. Duty, my least favorite word in the English Language. All of those things were more important to my parents than I was. So I gave up. I never chose that life so I just did what I wanted. It had mostly worked out for me since I didn’t give a shit either way what it did to my dad’s blood pressure. He was past the point of stopping me anyhow. I did whatever I wanted every day. Woke up in a different time zone whenever the fancy took me. Never had to try hard for women. Bought anything, and I do mean anything I wanted whenever I wanted.
Yeah. I was living the dream.
My interest in the game went in and out. Lose, I thought. If nothing else that would be a nice change of pace. I threw my drink back, draining it and looked around the room. The typical crowd was out tonight. Men and their suits who had come straight from work. The female partners who were beautifully crafted and dressed for the occasion.A few obvious foreigners who were there to try their luck. And then I saw her.
Wow, I thought it was her. I saw hair, auburn hair. My eyes focused on the face, then the body, and then recognition kicked in.
Holy God.
It was her. The Baroness. The memory of our night together hit me like a ton of bricks. It was never that far away from consciousness.
It wasn't every day that you won a men's wife in a card game and then proceeded to have the most passionate night of your life with her. It was five years ago and I remembered it like it happened five minutes ago. She was just as beautiful as ever, dressed in a teal dress that looked amazing with her skin and hair. She was walking around the table, looking a little lost. What was she doing here? Once the shock of seeing her past, questions came up. She had had a pretty, let's call it rough, experience at a casino the last time that I checked. if I was her, I would be a little gun-shy.
If she was here though, that man with the baron was too. I felt a burn in my chest like the scotch I was just drinking. what kind of man feels chalice of a woman's husband? Married women are the best kind. There was no use of lusting after them. You don't have to bother, spend that energy. There's already somebody taking care of her so your services aren't needed. Only, he wasn't taking care of her last time I checked. From what she told me, she merely tolerated him. keeping in mind That put her up as collateral while he was gambling, my jealousy felt a little more Justified.
Where was he? I was he back to do it again? Lose his wife to me, again? I just knew that I treated her better than he ever had. Five years was a long time. She was married then, but marriages ended all the time. She didn't fuck me like she was married.
I never had any intention of making a move, but then she did and who the hell was I to say no to that. She was absolutely gorgeous, both of us were tipsy, and both of us had basically been given the go-ahead from the Baron. She rocks my world that night. I felt my body react remembering it as she approached the table. Suddenly, Not only was I hard, I was nervous. She scanned the table, her eyes passing my face, and then she paused looking at me again. she seemed to freeze, her features freezing on her face.
Oh no. She recognized me and I wasn't sure what I thought was a good thing or not. it seems like time slowed down, but I knew it hadn't. It felt like the two of us were having a private moment in this room full of people. Slowly, her face broke into a smile. She looked over the table one more time, then stopped and waited as the dealer dealt her in. I watched her every move. She was one person away from me. I was staring, shameless, I knew the way it looked, but I couldn't stop. I watched her look at her cards and then set down her chips.
Not even a hello, I thought. If someone asked me my name right then, I wouldn't know what to tell them.
The game started and I tried my best to concentrate. Honestly, watching her was more important than winning the game. Her luck wasn't good. She lost the hand. She frowned and shook her head, and she shrugged.
“I should have known,” she said.
“Are you playing again?” I asked her, finally gaining control of my tongue. She looked at me and I was rendered speechless once again.
“I should have learned my lesson from the first time. I'm rubbish at poker.”
“I reckon anyone can learn.”
She shook her head. “It's just not my game.”
“Then what is your game?” I asked. She smiled a smile right on the borderline of innocent and devious. It sent blood rushing down to my cock. Five years later and she still did it to me.
“Hearts.”