The Girl Who Always Wins (Soulless 13)

I took a couple days to gather my bearings.

Had to really think this through.

Because once I took that step, there was no going back.

Dr. Hamilton didn’t ask me about it, and when we were in the lab together, it was friendly professionalism. He wouldn’t tell Daisy about our conversation, not get her hopes up when he didn’t know the outcome.

On Friday night, I found the strength to go to her penthouse.

I knocked.

No answer.

I knocked a couple more times until I accepted that she wasn’t home.

My heart fell in despair because I feared the worst.

That she was out, getting drinks from guys, finding someone to take home.

Fuck, just the thought made me sick.

I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but I didn’t have any other luxury. I called.

It rang for a while before it went to voice mail.

My heart sank further.

Was she ignoring me?

Did I take too long?

It’d been three weeks…and other people had moved on quicker than that.

I texted her. Can we talk?

The three dots didn’t light up.

There were only a couple reasons she would ignore me. One, she didn’t want to talk to me. Two, she was partying in a club, and her phone was buried in her clutch. Three, she was already with a guy. And four…

Despite the late hour, I texted Dr. Hamilton. Sorry, I know it’s late. Can’t get a hold of Daisy. Is she at a tournament?

His dots lit up instantly. Atlantic City. She’ll be home Sunday.

I was relieved. She was probably in the match right this moment. She wasn’t actively ignoring me. When the tournament was over, she’d call me.

But did I want to do this over the phone?

Her tournament would last a couple hours. If I left right now…

Dr. Hamilton’s text popped up on my phone. There’s a flight leaving in thirty minutes.

Thanks.

Go get her.

14

Daisy

I could really go for a cigar right now.

Something to settle the nerves. Something to make me relax in a way alcohol couldn’t reproduce.

But my dad’s disappointment was permanently carved into my brain, and I couldn’t go through that again.

I was too depressed to play, but I had nothing else to do, so whatever. I signed up for this tournament a long time ago, and it would be really fucked up to bail. I approached the table with my drink in hand, not in the same spunky mood my opponents were used to from me. It would probably totally throw them off.

I stilled at the table, recognizing the face across from me.

Okay…didn’t expect that.

Mason was there, his scotch on the table, his arms folded over his chest as he looked at me.

“This should be fun…” I took my seat and set down my glass.

He continued to stare at me while the other players got settled in. This one wasn’t televised, so we didn’t have to worry about the cameras and the commercials. Some of the other guys had cigars, and long-term exposure to secondhand smoke could be just as bad as firsthand, but I didn’t have a choice.

I ignored Mason’s piercing gaze, basically pretending he was wasn’t there.

But I was definitely unnerved—because I didn’t expect to see him again.

He either didn’t care that I was in the match, or he wanted to make another move.

I didn’t like either explanation.

When the chips and cards were ready, the match began.

The casino behind us brought with it the audible sound of chips moving, waitresses delivering drinks, music over the speakers. The guys at my table kept their eyes down on their cards, moving the game along, making their selections while drawing as little attention to themselves as possible.

Except Mason.

He stared at me every chance he got.

I ignored him as best I could and tried to play like it was my best night, like I wasn’t heartbroken, like I wasn’t delirious with sadness and primed to do something stupid.

Or do someone stupid…

Three weeks had come and gone, and I hadn’t gotten a single text from Atlas. Dad believed he would change his mind, that he would see reason, but three weeks was a long time…more like an eternity.

And he could replace me in a heartbeat. With eyes like that…a smile that melted the underwear right down my legs. Even if he couldn’t have children, a woman would gladly take him. I’d adopt kids with him happily… I just wished he believed that.

The pot grew, men started to fold, but Mason and I stayed in the game.

I was surprised I’d made it this far because I’d lost count of the cards. Just couldn’t focus.

My opponents must have assumed I was on my game even if I wasn’t.

My hand was shitty, there was a lot of money on the table, and I knew I’d lost the match.

He watched me before he flattened his cards, putting them facedown. “I fold.”

My eyes narrowed because there was no reason to fold when it was just the two of us. May as well put the cards down and hope they beat mine.