Play with Me

He strokes hair from my eyes. “You know what you can do for me now?”

“What?”

“Help me convince these boys they aren’t ever going to beat me at Ping-Pong.”

I laugh at his change of mood. “I bet I can.”

“So you think you want to play me?”

“Oh, yeah. I want to play you.” And we aren’t talking about Ping-Pong.

“Game on, baby. Game on.” He drags me toward the tables, and, indeed, I think: Game on.

Part Twelve

The truth will set you free…

Damion and I spend every second of every day we possibly can together during the next week. The charity fund-raising poker tournament finally arrives and is a huge success. We close the day with a two-hundred-thousand-dollar take home, and neither of us can wait to tell Dehlia. Damion calls her and invites her to dinner, then we head to his room—which has really become my room, too—to shower and change out of our work clothes.

I head to the fridge of his full kitchen and grab a soda. “Can I ask you something?”

He leans on the bar across from me. “Since when do you ask if you can ask anything?”

“I know this event raised a lot of money, but it can’t be enough to support the shelter. It’s a huge facility, and Dehlia has a staff.”

“I told you,” he says shortly. “I took care of it.” He turns and walks away, and I blink after him, shell-shocked at his sharpness.

I set the soda down and follow him, finding him on the patio. I take one look at the way he’s leaning his hands on the wall, chin tucked to his chest, and I go to him.

Gingerly, I settle my hand on his back. “Hey.”

He lifts his head and looks at me, storm clouds overtaking the green of his eyes. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay,” I say cautiously.

He pushes off the wall and scrubs his jaw. “You know how I said I handled the mob here at the casino?”

Mob? Are we really talking about the mob? “Yes.”

“There’s a guy I know from the shelter. He was there the day my mother died. He’s high up in the mob in Vegas now. I used my connection to him to get the mob out of the casino.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I also used his love for Dehlia to get the facility funded. He donates a ridiculous amount of money every year. Blood money—I know it is. But, damn it, he’s doing one thing in his life right. One thing.”

“I’m … confused about how I feel about it.”

“That makes two of us.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Then we’ll be confused together.” And I dare to take a risk. “Damion. I—”

His phone rings, and he kisses me. “Hold that thought.” He sighs. “Terrance. Things are heating up with the investigation on the breach of security.”

He takes the call and my moment is lost, but I vow to get it back.

* * *

Thanksgiving eve morning, I greet Dana—who has long since figured out that Damion and I are seeing each other—with a smile. “Where’s Mr. Ward?” she asks, glancing around the corner, still just as nervous with him as ever.