My mother basically went into hiding. I have no idea where she is, and haven’t heard from her in years. I miss her, even though she wasn’t the best mom. I don’t blame her for any of this. She was a victim too. I truly believe that.
So now I’m jobless, about to be homeless, broke and sitting in a casino with a man who I tortured when we were kids. And he’s now rich and sexy as fuck. As an objective observer, I don’t see how this situation could get any worse.
Daniel’s eyes flick back up to mine, appraising me in the light of the new information that he now has. “I’m surprised that I didn’t hear about this.”
“So am I,” I say. “I feel like everyone has at this point. More people than you can count feel the way that you do—they’re thanking God that the Blast Dynasty has crumbled. I’m untouchable now. Everyone hates the Blasts, and I can’t find a job anywhere because of what he did.”
“What do you do now?”
I sigh, because I’ve heard the question before from people who knew me when I was young. They expect me to say something vapid and frivolous. But I left that behind a while ago. “I’m a lawyer. Or at least I was attempting to be. I can’t even fault people for not wanting me on their payroll. But the result of that is what you see: Monica Blast in an old dress using the last of her money on beginner’s luck.”
Daniel tilts his head to the side just a fraction, studying me. “I’ll make you an offer, if you’ll let me.”
“An offer?”
“More of a wager,” he says, taking a sip of his own drink. I watch the way he swallows, and I never thought that watching that motion could be sexy. But his throat moves, and I want to see what’s connected to the rest of him beneath that suit. Daniel is a perfect example why you should never judge someone. If I had had to take bets on who Daniel Argent would turn out to be as an adult, this would not have been it.
In fact, if someone had asked me to describe what I thought he looked like now, I would have thought maybe someone skinnier, with a job in IT. Not a powerful man in a suit who runs—owns—the country’s biggest chain of luxury casinos. I have no idea what he’s going to offer me, but it’s too intriguing of a statement for me not to find out. “What is it?”
He places his glass on the bar slowly. Deliberately. “I’ll give you two million dollars if you play a hand of poker with me.”
The words startle my spine straight. Two million dollars? That’s an absurd amount of money for one game of poker. But it’s also exactly what I need. Two million would solve all of my debt, and if I managed it well, allow me to live for years while I figure out how to get rid of the stain attached to my name. “Do I have to win?”
Daniel nods once. “Yes.”
“I don’t have anything to play with,” I say. “As I previously stated, I’m broke. I have nothing. Your dealer over there took the last of my money in that unfortunate hand. I have nothing to offer.”
He raises his hand, and the bartender appears again with a drink identical to the one that I hold in my hand, even though I haven’t finished the first one. “Drink that,” he nods to the glass in my hand. “You’re going to need it when you hear the rest of my proposal, I think.”
That doesn’t exactly bode well, but I can’t say that I actually have a choice right now. I knock back what’s left of the whiskey and hand the empty glass to the bartender. The new glass is there waiting for me, but I don’t pick it up yet, savoring the burn of the alcohol in my throat. I can feel it settle over me like a blanket. “Okay.”
“When you say that you have nothing to offer,” Daniel says, “that’s not exactly true.”
“What do you want?” Nerves sizzle in my gut, because I’m desperate, and he knows that. I’m in the weakest position to strike a bargain.
He smiles, and I try not to get distracted by how fucking sexy he’s become. “If you win, you get two million dollars. If I win, you marry me.”
A laugh escapes me, and I pull it back. That has to be a joke, right? No one bets marriage on poker. Especially not men as rich as Daniel. Besides, he doesn’t even like me. “You’re joking?” I notice that he’s not laughing with me. His eyes are deadly serious, and he hasn’t moved an inch. “Oh God, you’re serious,” I say. He nods once.