Taming the Notorious Sicilian
If her jaw could thud onto the table, it would. ‘For one game of poker?’
‘That’s pocket change to the members here. People fly in from all over the world for this one tournament. We allow sixty entrants. We’ve had a couple drop out, so there is room for you.’
‘I don’t know. Won’t all the other entrants be cross that I’m playing for free?’
‘They wouldn’t know. In any case, it is none of their business. My casino, my rules. Go on, Hannah. Do it. Enjoy yourself and play the game.’
It was the first time he’d addressed her by her first name. Oh, but it felt so wonderful to hear her name spilling from his tongue in that deep, seductive accent.
Play the game.
It had been fifteen years since she’d played a game of any sort—and school netball most certainly did not count when compared to this.
Straightening her spine, she nodded, a swirl of excitement uncoiling in her stomach. ‘Go on, then. Sign me up.’
* * *
Francesco watched the tournament unfold from the sprawling security office on the top floor of the casino, manned by two dozen staff twenty-four hours a day. Other than the bathrooms, there wasn’t an inch of the casino not monitored. Special interest was being taken in a blackjack player on the second floor—a man suspected of swindling casinos across the Continent. Of course, there was the option to simply ban the man from the premises, but first Francesco wanted proof. And banning was not enough. Once his guilt was established, a suitable punishment would be wrought.
The first round of the tournament was in full swing. On Hannah’s table of six, two players were already out. Her gameplay surprised him—for a novice, she played exceptionally well, her poker face inscrutable. Of those remaining, she had the second-largest number of chips.
The dealer dealt the four players their two cards and turned three over on the table. From his vantage point, Francesco could see Hannah had been dealt an ace and a jack, both diamonds. The player with the largest pile of chips had been dealt a pair of kings. One of the table cards was a king, giving that player three of a kind. The player went all in, meaning that if Hannah wanted to continue playing she would have to put all her remaining chips into the pile.
She didn’t even flinch, simply pushed her pile forward to show she wanted to play.
There was no way she could win the hand. Lady Luck could be kind, but to overturn a three of a kind... The next table card to be turned over was an ace, quickly followed by another ace.
* * *
She’d won the hand!
It seemed that fifteen years of perfecting a poker face, along with too many late nights half watching the game played out for real on the television had paid off.
Hannah allowed herself a sip of water but kept her face neutral. The game wasn’t over yet. No one looking at her would know the thundering rate of her heart.
The look on her defeated opponent’s face was a picture. He kept staring from his cards to hers as if expecting a snake to pop out of them. Her two remaining opponents were looking at her with a newfound respect.
If she wasn’t in the midst of a poker tournament, she’d be hugging herself with the excitement of it all. It felt as if she were in the middle of a glamorous Hollywood film. All that was needed was for the men to light fat cigars and create a haze of smoke.
As the next hand was dealt she noticed a small crowd forming around their table and much whispering behind hands.
She looked at her two cards and raised the ante. One of her opponents matched her. The other folded, opting to sit out of the hand. The table cards were laid. Again she raised the ante. Again her opponent matched her. And so it went on, her opponent matching her move for move.
She didn’t have the best of hands: two low pairs. There was every chance that his cards were much better. All the same, the bubble of recklessness that had been simmering within her since she’d followed Francesco off the dance floor the night before grew within her.
It was her turn to bet. Both she and her opponent had already put a large wedge of chips into the pot.
Where was Francesco? He’d said he would be there socialising with the guests.
He wasn’t in the room, but somehow she just knew he was watching her.
Her heart hammering, she pushed her remaining chips forward. Please let Francesco be watching. ‘All in.’
Her opponent stared at her, a twitch forming under his left eye.
She stared back, giving nothing away.
He rubbed his chin.
She knew before he did that he was going to fold, hid her feelings of triumph that she’d successfully bluffed him.