‘You mean the dens of iniquity that make me my fortune?’ he asks with a hint of mockery. I flick my gaze to him and my heart twists painfully in my chest. He is way too handsome. It’s not fair.
‘Potayto...potahtoe...’ I say with a lift of my lips.
‘You forget, querida. I made my fortune on the stock market. What is that if not a form of gambling?’
‘It’s not the same thing.’ Though already I’m aware of my weakness here. I don’t know enough about share trading to speak with authority.
‘It is close to it. While there is a little more knowledge at play, mostly it’s about spotting trends, often about following intuition. It’s risky and fortunes can be lost in the blink of an eye. Sound familiar?’
‘It’s still different.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say honestly. ‘But it is.’ Thinking about it a little more, I sit up straighter, no longer relaxed enough to drift away on a cloud of sleep. ‘People don’t generally wander into the stock market and throw away their life savings. For one thing, it’s not easy to do—you have
to have an account or a trader who places...bids...or whatever it’s called...on your behalf. When casinos are on every street corner, then every man and his dog can wander into the lobby and spin a roulette wheel.’
‘Roulette wheels are not in the lobby, and we are a strictly no-animal establishment,’ he drawls.
I roll my eyes and, despite the heavy direction of our conversation, find myself smiling at his quick rejoinder. ‘I’m serious. The stock market is intimidating and there are barriers to people partaking. Those barriers mean most people have a level of knowledge before they open an account. A casino has no such barriers.’
‘Age isn’t a barrier?’
‘So you have to be eighteen to gamble. Big deal.’
‘It is my turn to ask a question,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘Why do you hate casinos so much?’
My eyes fill with light. I swallow quickly, looking away, my family’s secret like a hole in my chest. ‘We’ve discussed that.’
‘You’ve told me you disapprove of gambling. But why?’
‘Because people lose their savings. It’s damaging.’ My heart is racing. ‘And we said we wouldn’t talk about this.’ I reach out, putting a hand on his knee. ‘Not today.’
His eyes war with mine, the part of Santiago that wants to win, the ruthless businessman who sniffs out the advantage and mercilessly pushes it home, finding it hard to let the matter drop. But, to my surprise and relief, he does exactly that. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but he offers one anyway.
‘We will not talk about it,’ he says with a clipped nod. ‘But promise me this.’
I wait, my breath held.
‘Come to the casino floor with me tonight. Let me show you what it’s really like.’
I stiffen at the very idea. ‘I toured your casino yesterday, remember?’
My voice is unintentionally icy; I hear the tone and inwardly wince.
His expression is relaxed but I feel the intensity reverberating off him in waves. ‘Did you play any of the games?’
‘Games?’ I respond sharply, thinking only of my uncle. ‘You do realise that’s part of the problem? People think it’s all fun and harmless but it’s not. “Games” is a misnomer, if ever I heard one.’
A muscle jerks in his jaw. ‘And because of your personal animosity towards gambling you are determined to keep it from your society for ever?’
‘That’s not possible,’ I say quietly.
‘No.’ We’re in agreement and yet I feel like the air between us is sparking with tension. Electricity fills my fingertips. ‘Perhaps at some point, but not in the twenty-first century. People travel easily, play online.’
‘“Play”,’ I say with a shake of my head.
‘What would you prefer I say? Dice with danger?’