My fingers itch, curling into fists. “The dealer saw the trick wearing off.”
He dismisses me with the motion of a hand, then turns around. “I would never cheat. You’re mistaken.” And he sets off like everything’s fine and I’m not five hundred dollars poorer.
I hate people like him. People who act like they’re so much better than everyone else but who are just as rotten inside. His long legs take him from me in seconds. The girl follows him in hasted steps.
“So, are we leaving?” she prompts, scrambling on top of high heels since he doesn’t care about waiting for her.
“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he shoots over his shoulder at her. “Too willing. I like them better when they squirm.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
The girl stops, but I keep going, eyes on his white jacket, fingers stretching to yank him back by his hair. He’s not leaving with my money, not when he didn’t deserve it. Just before I reach the girl, I see her eyes pinpointing at my face, her forehead puckering, and then she moves. I see her foot too late.
My toes hit the side of her heels, and I lose balance. Flailing my arms out, I hit her in the face — accidentally, of course. I try to shoot my other foot out, but there’s no way I’m stopping this fall. The carpet comes closer, too fast for my liking. I slam my eyes closed. Clench my teeth. Prepare for the hit.
Someone catches me at the last moment, so fast air escapes me. They put me on my feet even before I can open my eyes, and then I stand there, like an idiot, arms stretched out, clenched teeth, and eyes closed for a second too long. That’s just me, always classy.
Both my feet planted on the ground, I open my eyes and, shit. Did I hit the floor and wake up in heaven? Wow. This guy could be an angel if it weren’t for the thick lips on his face. They make me think of sin. He’s tall, but manageable. Pretty sure I could kiss him fine if I stood on my tiptoes. Golden hair falls in barely-there waves to his shoulders, delineating an aristocratic face, all sharp angles, and smooth curves. His eyes and eyebrows are darker, and the look on his face is...
Not exactly romantic. He looks like he’s having a heart attack.
Lips angled in question, eyes so wide I can see his entire irises, he grips my shoulders and moves his mouth to no sound. Hot but crazy? My heartbeat picks up, and I try to step away. He grips me tighter. Just what the hell is going on today? Weird shit after weird shit.
“Thanks, but I need to go.” I always try the nice Cassandra first. The rude Cassandra gets what she wants more often, though, so I change to her, jerking my arms free. “Thanks,” I hiss over my shoulder, making my way back into the crowd and after the mage.
“Wait!” Hot Blond calls out, but I’m already far enough to escape the craziness. The Chosen One makes his way to the exit, phone in-ear. Pretty sure he’s his driver or another servant. He looks like that kind of person, like celebrities who ask for crazy things in their shows. Forty-two towels to dry my tit sweat, for example.
He won’t even exchange the chips. I need to get to him before his driver does. One guy I can take on just fine. Two, when one of them is a mage? Not so confident.
“Yo, Chosen One!” I call out, but the motherfucker doesn’t even turn. He stops for a second, looking at the main exit, then turns to his left and picks up his pace further. I scoff, rolling my eyes. Why did he change his mind? He’s been eating up the distance between us and the exit, then out of nowhere... Oh.
The back exit. He might expect me to come at him and wants his driver to defend him. Not sure that would look nice on his rep. Beating up a girl when he’s supposed to be a savior or some shit. If we made it to the entrance, everyone would be a witness to my ass whooping.
I steel my spine and ready myself for a fight. He slips through the back door, and I lose sight of him for a moment. I slam my hand on the door to push it open again and find his back to me. I pounce on him, pushing him off. He stumbles forward, then whirls around to face me. I join him in the alley behind the casino, letting the steel door clang shut behind me. I try my best to look as non-pathetic as possible as I suck air in. The motherfucker walked fast.
“You cheater,” I roar under my breath, so he won’t notice I’m out of breath.
“Look,” he glances up and down the empty, stinky alley. Every fancy casino has one of these, where trash and humidity come together to be the perfect antithesis of the bright, perfumed insides of the place. The Chosen One fits nicely in here, this human trash. Only that he isn’t only human. Supe trash. “Even if I did cheat, there’s no way you can prove it now.”
I scoff. “Cameras, duh.”
He smiles. “I asked the casino to turn them off wherever I went. Didn’t want the image of me in a casino giving kids the wrong idea, right?”
Well, that had to be illegal. “And they just, what, accepted it?”
He points to himself, the smug smile back. “I’m the Chosen One, gorgeous. People do what I tell them to.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be the good guy?”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Iamthe good guy. And what difference does it make? No one would believe you anyway.”
The rage boiling inside me explodes like a volcanic eruption. I roar at him, pulling my elbow back and aiming a fist at his squared jaw. His eyes go round, and panic flashes across his face. He moves away at the last possible second.
“How the fuck did you do that?” he roars, shock obvious.
“Do what?”
“You went right through my illusion.”