His Mafia Queen

Time to Grovel

As I walk through the crowd on my way to the poker room, I try not to think of what happened in the alley. About the man who came looking for her. I suspect that's the Beckett guy she's been hanging out with. The guy from the baseball game.

My rival.

I'd love to kill the smarmy fucker, but despite my past track record, even I know I can't just go around killing people who piss me off.

When I finally find the poker game, I'm seething. There are only about ten people in the room, and the hush in the air is a sharp contrast to the loud party right outside the door.

It's mostly men, and two women. One of them is Stephanie. Fuck. I'd had enough of her earlier. She was something else I hadn't planned on dealing with this evening.

She gives me a finger wave and a pouty expression she probably thinks looks sexy. I'm certain my smile comes out more like a grimace.

The men are sitting around a large, round table, while the women are sitting a few feet away on a black leather sofa. The room looks like an unused set from the scene of Scarface. Walls are covered in red wallpaper, there are no windows, and every possible furniture surface is swaddled in black leather.

A few glass tables are scattered around, probably for snorting cocaine.

"Gabriel, you found us," Seth says. He's got this tone to his voice that is a mixture of bored and arrogant. It's grating to the ear, or maybe everything is grating on my mood tonight.

I should give the poor bastard a chance. He doesn't deserve my ire.

"Hey, bro," I say, and he points to the one empty seat at the table.

"Thanks." I sit and survey the others. I recognize several of the men, all business owners, lawyers, and one bank vice president. There are a couple that I don't know, but from their gray pallor, age, and hoodies, I suspect they're tech guys like Seth.

"We're just finishing a break." Seth raises a glass in my direction. "You want a glass? We've got a bottle of Macallan going."

"Love some. Thanks."

Seth snaps his fingers and a waiter appears. It's a man, and if I recall correctly, the last time I played poker here a few years ago, women servers took care of these rooms. Whether something's changed since then or this is the establishment's way of dealing with Seth, I'm not sure.

Within minutes, I'm drinking Scotch. It burns all the way down my throat, a reminder that pain is its own reward tonight.

The poker game begins with everyone anteing up their chips before the dealer shuffles the deck. He deals out seven cards to each player face down, and then each player takes turns looking at their hand before placing bets or folding.

Throughout this process of betting and bluffing, I find myself lost in thought about Riley. What more can I do? I need her back in my life. It's clear that I'm not functioning as well without her. Every interaction, every business deal, every encounter with my father — I'm left annoyed at best, and enraged at worst.

Living without Riley is affecting my entire life, and not in a positive way.

I'm brought back to reality by the dealer's voice calling out for us to show our hands. The energy of anticipation builds as we look around.

I don't win. My hand of two jacks, a king, seven, four, and ace isn't good enough. I fold my cards and lean back as Seth collects a few grand. My emotions are raging, and not because of the hand of cards. It's because I can't stop replaying my all-too-brief moments with Riley.

The dealer announces the next game, and I decide to bet the minimum, two hundred and fifty. My heart isn't in this tonight and I know I should go home.

But the idea of seeing my father isn't exactly inspiring me to want to return to my sanctuary, either.

At that moment Stephanie walks over, her red dress hugging her curves. Her dark hair is pulled up into a sexy pile on top of her head. She strides over to me and without hesitation plants herself onto my lap.

Oh, Christ.

I expect Seth to say something, but he doesn't. Probably because the other woman in the room, a thin, model-like blonde, is on his lap.

I'm taken aback by her boldness but try not to show it as Seth calls out for everyone to light their cigars and begin the next round of betting. The pungent smell of cigar smoke fills the room and I find myself trying not to cough from the sudden change in air quality around us.

Stephanie squirms on my lap, trying to get my attention.

Despite this distraction, I can't help but let my mind drift back to Riley again. Maybe I need to beg for forgiveness.

I've never done that before. But I've never been in love before, either.

My thoughts are interrupted when Stephanie moves her hand up my leg suggestively. I quickly move away, uncomfortable with this intimate gesture between us which wasn't welcome or invited.

Especially not here, in front of these people.

"Stef, I need to see my cards. Christ. Come on." I pat her gently on the leg, hoping she'll get the hint.

She does, because she snorts out an impatient little breath. "Fine. I guess seeing your ex put you in a bad mood. Why don't you come do a line with me?"

Thank fuck she climbs off my lap and flounces over to the glass coffee table. Sinking to her knees, she takes out a little jar from her purse and begins to cut a line.

I try not to pay attention, but inside I'm surprised. Stef didn't seem like someone who did coke in public. Sure, lots of people do it in private occasionally. Me included, but not for at least a decade.

Everyone notices the tension between me and Stefanie but no one says anything. Instead they continue focusing on the card game. It adds extra level of awkwardness into an already tense situation.

I lose two more hands.

"Well, men. I'm not having the best night." I toss my cards on the table. "I'm going to pack it in. Seth, you look like you've got your hands full, so I'll have my assistant arrange a meeting with you next week."

Seth, whose tongue was down the blonde's throat, breaks away from her. "Leaving so soon, bro? I heard you were a hella gambler."

"No." I don't even try to make a joke.

"Oh." He swallows, probably wondering if I'm going to live up to my deadly rotation. "So you're taking off?"

"Yeah, something came up. I'll see you around." I give the room a wave, and Stephanie looks up, mid snort. A dusting of power is on the tip of her nose, and it makes her look undignified, trashy.

"You're leaving?" she squeaks. "Can I come?"

"No."

Ignoring her, I walk out of the room and into the main party. I don't stop to say goodbye, don't pause for another drink, don't acknowledge Stephanie's protests behind me. I glance around the room, looking for the only person who matters.

She's nowhere to be found. This is my cue to leave the party.

It's time to grovel.