already anticipating the response. In some ways they were so very similar. Which wasn’t surprising considering they were father and son.
Although a father and son who detested the very ground each other walked on put an interesting twist on their relationship.
‘Over my dead body.’ Giacomo snapped his fingers at the dealer and threw his last five-million-dollar platinum chip in the middle of the table.
Beside him, his hostess’s mouth dropped open. The sight of her pink tongue sent a spike of excitement through his groin.
Sì...he would celebrate well tonight. For a while there, he’d begun to suspect that beating Giacomo would be his only source of entertainment in Macau. Which was why he’d sought the old man out instead of leaving him to squirm a little longer. He’d wanted to be done and out of here as soon as possible.
The other deals he’d come to negotiate had taken the necessary leap forward and he’d believed there was nothing left.
But now...
His groin hardened as he watched her mouth slowly press shut and her eyes dart to his with the same anticipated excitement that flowed within him.
He let his interest show, let her see the promise of what was to come.
Heat flared up her delicate neck and flawless skin into a surprisingly innocent face that could’ve graced a priceless painting.
Dio, she was truly entrancing. And yet she was in a place like this, where the likelihood of being hit on, or more, was very real.
He gave a mental shrug. He’d stopped trying to reason why people took the actions they took well before he’d grown out of long socks.
Otherwise he’d have driven himself mad from trying to decipher why the father whose DNA flowed through his veins seemed to hate every single breath he took.
Or why Maria’s betrayal still had the power to burn an acid path in his gut—
No.
That train had long left the station. Giving it thinking room was a waste of time and his time was extremely precious.
Keeping his eyes on his hostess, he downed his drink and held out his empty glass.
‘I’m thirsty again, amante.’
With a nod, she sashayed away in her too-tight dress and returned minutes later with his drink.
When she started to move away, he snagged a hand around her waist. The touch of warm, silk-covered flesh beneath his fingers short-circuited his brain for a few moments. Then he realised she was trying to get away from him.
‘Stay. You bring me luck when you’re near.’
‘Shame you need a woman to win,’ Giacomo sneered.
Narciso ignored him and nodded to the dealer. He wanted this game to be over so he could pull this magical being tighter into his arms, feel her melt against him, his prize for emerging triumphant.
Giacomo threw his chip defiantly into the fray. Narciso’s chest tightened with the anger that never quite went away. For as long as he remembered, his father had treated him like that chip—inconsequential, easily cast aside. Underneath all the anger and bitterness, a wound he’d thought healed cracked open.
Ignoring it, he calmly plucked his cards from the table.
‘Let’s up the stakes.’
Eyes that had once been similar to his own but had grown dimmer with age snapped at him. ‘You think you have something I want?’
‘I know I do. That tech company you lost to me last month? If I lose this hand, I’ll return it to you, along with all of this.’ He nodded to the pile of chips in front of him, easily totalling over thirty million dollars.
‘And if I lose?’ His voice held a false confidence Narciso almost smiled at. Almost.
‘You hand over the other five-million chip I know is in your pocket and I’ll let you keep your latest Silicon Valley start up.’
Giacomo sneered but Narciso could see him weighing up the odds. Thirty million against ten.
He waited, let the seductive scent of his hostess’s perfume wash over him. Unable to resist, he slid his hand lower. The faintest sensation of a thong made his groin tighten. Again, she tried to move away. He pulled her back towards him and heard her breath catch.
‘My offer expires in ten seconds,’ he pressed.
Giacomo reached into his tuxedo pocket and tossed the second chip onto the table. Then he laid out cards in a flourish.
Four of a kind.
Narciso didn’t need to glance down at his own cards to know he’d won.
And yet...the triumph he should’ve experienced was oddly missing. Instead, hollowness throbbed dully in his chest.
‘Come on, then, you coward. It’s your turn to answer this—do you yield?’
Narciso breathed in deep and fought the tight vice crushing his chest. Slowly, the hollowness receded and anger rushed into its place. ‘Yes, I yield.’
His father’s bark of victorious laughter drew attention from other tables but Narciso didn’t care.
His hand was tightening over her waist, anticipation of a different sort firing his body. He was about to turn towards her when Giacomo reached for the cards Narciso had discarded.
A straight flush. A winning hand more powerful than his father’s.
The evidence that he’d been toyed with registered in Giacomo’s shocked eyes. ‘Il diavolo!’ He lunged across the table, his whole body vibrating with fury.
Narciso stood, his eyes devoid of expression. ‘Sì, I am the devil you spawned. You’ll do well to remember that next time we meet.’
I AM THE devil you spawned.
Had he meant that literally?
Ruby glanced at the man who had her imprisoned against his side as he steered her towards...
‘Where are you taking me?’ she demanded in a rush as electrifying fingers pressed more firmly into her skin. Who knew silk was an excellent conductor of heat?
She burned from head to toe and he wasn’t even touching her bare skin.
‘First to the dance floor. And then...who knows?’
‘But my duties...behind the bar—’
‘Are over,’ he stated imperiously.
Despite the alien emotions swirling through her, she frowned. ‘Can you do that?’
