Sailing With Destiny

BlackJack

Mitchell leaned in and his breath over my face when he spoke with a small smirk, "Dinner was great but you know..." His eyes dropped to my lap, "How much more I prefer dessert."

At his response, my mind pictured a very dirty image of Mitchell's lips over the area that ached for him and that got my heart racing. My thoughts, however, were put to an abrupt halt when the game of Black Jack began.

The woman bet the same amount as Mitchell but also had more chips at her disposal beside her. Mitchell's whiskey arrived and with that a martini for the blonde woman whose eyes were way too friendly towards Mitchell.

She gestured to the table and her eyes were solely focused on Mitchell, "Allons-nous commencer?"

Mitchell offered a polite grin and, after he took a sip of the whiskey, gestured towards the table with his hand, "Après vous."

Great, now they're speaking French.

The woman seemed pleased by Mitchell's French and I wanted to wave my hand in front of her face so she knew that I was right there, next to the man she shamelessly eye-fucked.

The dealer placed two cards in front of Mitchell and another two in front of the woman while he kept his one card hidden. I totaled the value on Mitchell's bet, his six and three totaled nine while the woman's seven and three left her one digit ahead of Mitchell.

The dealer glanced at the pair and Mitchell wore a straight face as he gestured with his finger and said, "Hit me."

The woman asked for the same and by the end of that round, the dealer ended up with more than twenty-one, Mitchell with seventeen, and the woman twenty-two which meant that Mitchell won that round.

I grinned but Mitchell wasn't fazed by the win as he placed another higher bet. The game was interesting but it didn't hold the same excitement roulette held for me, although Mitchell was in his element.

"Hit me," he gestured with his index finger again as he took a sip of his drink.

Mitchell won another round and the woman came close but her passive expression showed she wasn't bothered by her losses, which told me she was indeed wealthy. She smiled at Mitchell as she took a bite of her olive, "Bien joué, Monsieur?"

"Mitchell," Mitchell replied and I wanted to smack him for being nice.

"Mitchell," she nodded, "Je m'appelle Darcey."

"Ravi de vous rencontrer, Da-" Mitchell abruptly cut himself short when he glanced my way and I wore a straight face.

He cleared his throat and handed his credit card to the dealer, "Let's up the stakes a little."

"You good?" He turned to me and I got the scent of whiskey from his breath.

"Très bien, mon amour," I flashed him a tight-lipped smile.

"Are you sure?" Mitchell's arched brow and tone told me he wasn't convinced.

"Claro que si," I replied with a slight edge to my tone.

Mitchell hid a threatening smile, "That's Spanish, mi amor."

I was so used to Spanish as my second language that I mixed up the two but in my defense, I knew as much French as the average English-speaking person knew Greek.

I narrowed my eyes at him and pulled away but he placed his hand on my bare thigh under the table. His fingers dug into my skin and he gently squeezed, "Where do you think you're going?"

I sighed, "This game is a little boring."

The whiskey seemed to have taken over, as his eyes were slightly bloodshot and he was extra touchy and flirty all of a sudden.