Lady Luck - Ashby Crime Family

From Terry, not Vanessa.

Meeting 9am. Ashby Manor. Be there.

If I was expected to show up, the news was big.

If Terry was still speaking to me, the news was fucking big.

But first, I had a meeting of my own.

Chapter Eight

Vanessa

On my second night of work, I strode in feeling more confident and looking a little more like I belonged. I wore a hot pink bandage dress and a pair of sexy black pumps I’d borrowed from Kat. I accessorized it with an air of don’t fuck with me that I knew would steel me against Evan’s gruff nature as well as the flirtatiousness of some of the players.

Tonight, I was ready for what I’d dubbed Round Two and I felt ready to face these people on my terms.

I decided to put an end to the timid girl who’d let her overly religious parents control her and boss her around for too many years, and I refused to be the good little wife who happily followed my husband all over the country without once thinking about what I wanted.

Vanessa may have done those things, but Nessa didn’t. No, Nessa stood up for herself; she flirted while maintaining a professional distance, and she could take care of herself.

“Hey, Nessa, babe, what’s a guy gotta do to get another G&T?” Raymundo, a slick Spanish guy who was either a gangster or a politician flashed a blinding white smile my way.

I shrugged and took his empty glass with ease. “Winning a hand or two would be a good start,” I told him and sauntered off while the rest of the table gave him grief, a smile on my face because I’d decided, again thanks to Emmett, to keep a smile on my face no matter what happened. If I kept the players from knowing what affected me—or didn’t—they’d stop trying to get a reaction out of me.

“Botanist & tonic, and another Negroni, thanks.”

Evan manned the bar tonight since Hulu was at the front door, so I chose to be polite but distant. Nessa didn’t do theatrics.

“Negroni?” His gaze focused on the empty glass I set on the bar.

“When I get back to the table, Forrester’s glass will be empty.” That was all I said and all he needed to know. I turned to watch the tables while he, presumably, made the drinks.

“There you go.”

“Thanks.” I picked up the glasses and made my way back to the table.

“Nessa, honey, you’re too good to me.” Forrester was a young actor whose TV show was on hiatus, He called his time at the tables research, but the guy was too good a card player for that.

“Thank you.”

He handed me his empty glass with a hundred-dollar-bill wrapped around it and accepted the new Negroni with a smile.

“My pleasure. Anyone else need anything?”

Anastasia, a beautiful Swede with hardly a trace of an accent laughed.

“Raymundo and Jefferson could use a refresher course on Texas Hold ’em, but I need to know where you got that dress. It’s fabulous.”

I laughed. “All I know about the game is to bluff, but the dress came from Halo, a cute little boutique at Emerald Isle.”

“Ask them to hold a size six, yes?”

I nodded and turned away to send a quick message to Kat, because that, I was learning quickly, was my job. If it kept Anastasia happy and at the tables, short of stealing, killing, and fucking, I did it. Just as I sent the message to Kat, another message had come through from Emmett.

Having a good night?

So, the word was out that I was working here. He was such a sweet guy, and though he was quiet, it didn’t come across as creepy. Or weird.

I am. Thank you. I sent the message and then a happy face because the man needed to smile more.

Glad to hear it, was his reply. But no word on whether that had been him I’d seen in my rear view mirror or just a figment of my imagination.

It thrilled me to think he might have shown up last night just to make sure my first night went well. I appreciated it because he was one of the few people in my life who knew how hard I’d been working to put my life together after Lance. My parents wanted me to come home and marry a local boy, and they didn’t care whether or not that was the life I wanted. The few girlfriends I had in Glitz wanted to hook me up with another military man, or worse, a professional bodyguard.

No thanks. No matter how many times I said I wasn’t ready to move on, they didn’t listen. It pissed me off how everyone acted like Lance and I had broken up, that he’d left me for another woman, but that wasn’t the case. He was dead and that would take some time getting over.