“Thirty-one.”
“So, it’s probably about time.”
“You’re one to talk,” Blade says with a chuckle. It comes out forced, like he’s trying to de-escalate something. Is my irritation that obvious?
“Yeah, not gonna lie, it’s a little sad that Lorenzo is getting married before you,” Luca adds.
At that, I laugh. Lorenzo is my brother, and while I love and respect him, he isn’t good with people. At all. Luca isn’t the only one surprised at how things have worked out for Lorenzo.
“Don’t you think I’m a little busy?” I ask.
“Ten thousand.”
All eyes turn to Paolo as he shoves chips midway to the pile.
I look at the table, then back at my hand. It isn’t necessary. I would call even if I had those shitty pocket threes from earlier. There isn’t a flush draw and no chances for a straight, so my best guess is he’s bluffing. Or trying to prove something. But that isn’t why I call. I call because I would die before I let a punk ass bitch like him shove me out of a hand.
I gather my chips and toss them into the pile. “Call.”
I flip my cards over and focus on his as he does the same. He’s got the last ace in the deck, so the same three of a kind as me.
But he’s also got a jack high. One card higher than mine.
“Ohhh shit,” Luca teases.
Paolo raises his lips into that stupid smirk while he rakes the chips toward him, and I stare at it. Glare at it, really.
My ears heat, and I bring my glass to my lips, slowly. I take a drink and lower it.
Finally, Paolo looks at me. “Sorry, man. Better luck next time.”
I ease my glare and smile. Not a happy smile. An I’m-gonna-skin-you-alive-and-wear-your-flesh-like-a-coat kind of smile.
The dealer—Cassandra... That’s her name—deals another hand, and I fold without looking at my cards. I pull out my phone and check my messages. I’m not in the mood to join in on the pointless conversations with these men tonight. And if I speak at this particular moment, I’m going to say something I’ll later regret.
There’s a text from Anthony, my youngest brother. He’s checking in. He vetted a new distributor today and wants to bring the guy in but needs my approval. I give it to him in a text, then put my phone away.
Alex enters my mind again, and I look at Paolo. He must feel it because he meets my eyes. I don’t look away, but after a few moments of me not saying anything, he does. His Adam’s apple bobs.
“Who’s her dad?” I ask Paolo.
He looks at me again, and his brow furrows. “What?”
“The fiancée. What was her name?”
“Alexa.”
“Who is Alexa’s dad?”
His eyes widen, but only for a moment. He shrugs as if it’s inconsequential, which it probably is, but his movements are awkward. He’s uncomfortable. “No one you’d know.”
“Try me.”
He looks directly at me. “The guy’s name is Jerome. He owed my father a debt and paid it with his daughter. Why are you so interested in this?”
I shrug. “I think your girl’s cute.”
“You’re welcome to have her.”