Grey and I strode to the table. He took the seat next to the scary man, and I sat between the poodle woman and the adventurer. She gave me a derisive look that was matched by her poodle—the little beast’s lip even lifted in a growl. I turned my gaze away from the tiny monster and glanced at the man next to me.
He smiled charmingly. “It seems I got the lucky end of the seating arrangements. I’m Atticus Swift.”
“Nice to meet you. Marie Stone.” I gave him the fake name I’d worked up, not wanting Anton to remember me and seek me out.
Atticus held out his hand to shake, and though I’d normally avoid such a thing, I needed all the information I could get about my opponents. Knowledge was power, after all.
I gripped his strong hand and shook, suppressing a gasp at the images that flowed into my mind. Atticus, standing on the deck of a ship floating through the clouds, fighting off demons with a skill I couldn’t help but admire. Another vision flashed—this time of him in an enormous, gorgeous office with a view of high rises in the distance. He had power and wealth, that was for certain. And a love of adventure.
Not only that—there was a distinct streak of honor to him. He was some kind of thief; I was sure of it. But an honorable one. Unlike everyone else at this table—I didn’t need to touch them to know they were shady as hell—he was a decent man. Albeit with a love of breaking the rules.
I tried to get an image of what his cards looked like—he had a hand in front of him—but the magic that surrounded the table made it impossible. It was an impressive spell, whatever it was, allowing my gift to work but not in a way that would allow me to cheat.
Damn.
At least I had the charm from Grey tucked into the top of my stockings, though it wouldn’t be easy to deploy it with this crowd surrounding me.
The dealer, who I’d barely noticed until now, cleared his throat. The man was so bland looking—pale skin, pale hair, a soft face, and stooped shoulders—that he nearly blended with the background.
“Buy in is fifty thousand. One hundred to raise.”
I tried not to let my jaw drop, but Atticus noticed my shock and leaned close. “Bit steep, I agree.”
“Isn’t that why you play here?”
He gave me a devastatingly handsome smile. Under any other circumstances, I might have flirted. I should have flirted. I should have done anything I could to tear my traitorous heart away from Grey. If it knew what was good for it, my heart would throw itself at Atticus.
As it was, I felt nothing when I looked at Atticus. He might as well have been another species, albeit an objectively attractive one.
Unable to help myself, I glanced at Grey.
His eyes were slightly narrowed as he watched Atticus, and I could all but see the threat wafting around him.
Atticus leaned close to my ear and murmured, “I
think your friend would like to knock my head against a wall.”
Grey’s eyes flashed, and he smiled coldly.
Oh, he could definitely hear Atticus, and he agreed.
I just smiled—hopefully in a mysterious way—and looked at the dealer expectantly. What I really wanted to do was jump on Anton and hold my knife to his throat, demanding answers.
But there were eight guards in the room, one at each corner and others at the door.
So, that approach was out.
The game began, moving swiftly at first. Anton was nearly silent, his gaze darting between the different players with the coldness of a snake’s. When it landed on me, I had to suppress a shiver.
Surprisingly, the first person to leave the table was the terrifying man with the gray skin and black eyes. He hadn’t said a single word the entire game—every signal he’d given to the dealer had either been a hiss or a tap on the table.
Finally, he lost spectacularly, and that was that.
Anton grinned with satisfaction when the man rose and slunk away toward the door, clearly pleased to have beaten him. So far, the mob boss was the best player at the table, though the rest were holding their own.
The woman in pink watched the cards avidly, her interest keen and her excitement high. Atticus, on the other hand, seemed bored. Almost as if he weren’t here for poker at all and was just phoning it in with his bets. I shot him a glance out of the corner of my eye, and he grinned, almost as if he could read my curiosity.
Across the table, Grey looked between me and Atticus, his shoulders tense. Was he jealous?