Варвар: Воин Аттилы. Корона бургундов. Зов крови. Андрей Посняков
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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.’
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