Trapped in his End Game (Series)

VINCENT

Glittering cocktail waitresses strut by on stilettos, and aside from the music booming from the interior of the casino, it’s not very noisy. The sound of chips shoved together and murmured voices raised and lowered in victory and defeat fill the small room. It’s a big space, but my eyes scan over the heads immediately to look for her. The VIP room of Worlds Casino is a mixed bag of gangsters and wealthy men. I stand in the midst of twelve or so poker tables. Most of them have men as dealers behind the tables, wearing suits, except for one.

A stunning woman sits behind a table of admiring men. Adriana wears the dark blue dress that I bought her. It’s one of my favorites. It has a diving neckline, which gives a nice view of her cleavage. Her long hair is tied up in a knot with a few dark tendrils curling over her creamy breasts. The dark lipstick makes her look like a cruel, Italian goddess. She smiles at something one of the players says and then she looks up and sees me. She freezes with her mouth slightly parted in shock.

We’re not fucking done, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.

She blind-sighted me at the restaurant. I didn’t get a chance to react to what she said. I’ve had a night to think about it, and I’ve decided that it’s all bullshit. She didn’t enjoy being with me? What about the time when I made her moan so loudly that the neighbor pounded on her bedroom wall? It wasn’t real, my ass.

We’re done when I say we’re fucking done.

I take a step forward, not sure whether I’ll kiss her or yell at her, but a man stops my path. Carmine, dressed in one of his preppy suits, blocks my way.

“Vince, good to see you.”

I tear my eyes away from her to look into his shit-brown eyes. “I can’t say the same.”

He laughs. “You are as charming as ever.” He holds out his hand expectantly.

Reaching into my jacket, I pull out the envelope stuffed with cash.

He takes it and thumbs through the contents.

Like I’d try to stiff him. Asshole.

“I heard you and Adriana were on the outs. Don’t think about talking to her right now. I don’t want any drama at my VIP games.”

Like you can fucking stop me. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

Suddenly, I feel someone touching the back of my neck and a female body pressing into my side. I turn into her arm, convinced it’s Adriana. She’s come back to her senses, finally. But no, it’s the fucking cocktail waitress. A flood of disappointment sends me crashing. I give her a strained smile and I step away.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

A woman’s muffled cry makes my head turn. Adriana’s bends over the table with her head in her hands as her shoulders shake. The players look at each other uncomfortably as their dealer cries. They try to give her napkins, which she ignores.

What the fuck?

I don’t understand what just happened. Did one of the players say something?

Or is it because of me?

Some sick part of me can’t help but feel a little relieved that she might still care, but I feel it at the same time as the knife twists in my abdomen. I want to destroy whoever hurt her.

Carmine walks over there and touches her shoulder, his hands all over her as he whispers something in her ear.

Fuck you.

She gets up and disappears behind the Employees Only door. Carmine sits down at the table with a genial smile and quickly deals out cards.

“Sorry, folks. She just broke up with her fiance, so she’s a little upset.”

“She’s single?” One of the guys leans in with a wide smile, joking.

Flames of heat shoot up my chest.

No, she fucking isn’t.

Carmine laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.” He clears his throat. “All right, guys. Here’s the river.”

After he finishes the game, he returns to my side. He has the balls to look pissed.

“Listen, Cesare, I think it’s best if we do our business somewhere else from now on. I can’t have you upsetting my dealer.”

I bristle. “Oh, she’s your dealer now, is she?”

He grins at my anger. “Yeah, she is. If you have a problem with that, take it up with Tony. From the look on her face, she doesn’t want you around, anyway.”

That strikes a nerve. I’m so close to smashing his face in. I can visualize my fist cracking over his skull, and kicking in his ribs when he’s on the ground.

“The only way we’ll have a problem is if you touch her again.”

His smile doesn’t falter. “You can fuck off with your attitude. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with her. She’s not your fiancee, your comare, or anything. You have no authority over me, so you can shove your alpha-male posturing bullshit right up your ass.”

I’ll fucking kill you.

I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to piss me off, and he’s not even being subtle about it. Any decent wiseguy knows to stay the fuck away from another guy’s ex, except this asshole. I give him one last smile to let him know that I’m on to him, and then I turn my back on him.

I don’t know why the fuck he’s trying to rile me up, but I won’t let him get to me. I won’t.

I slam my fist into the double doors, making them fly open as I leave the VIP room.