Retribution: A Motorcycle Club Romance (21 page)

There's
a collective gasp that comes from onlookers, both those sitting at the table
and others who are just standing around watching.  For some reason, a lot
of people are drawn to this game, despite the fact that until this particular
bet, the stakes haven't been abnormally high.

Cards
are flipped, but I'm no longer paying attention to what they are.  Despite
Harrison's love of the game, and gambling in general, I've never taken any big
interest in poker.  The important point is, once the hand is over, the
reaction from everyone around us tells me all I need to know.

Harrison
has lost.

As
soon as the cards are turned he's on his feet, explaining the unexplainable. 
"Unbelievable!  There's no way I thought he had a boat there, baby.  I
thought for sure I had him, and then all of our troubles would have been
solved.  I'd have won all my money back in one hand!" 

All
of
our
troubles?  He convinced me to come with him on this trip using a
lie about working on our relationship, but ever since we've landed he's spent
all of his time at the poker tables.  He lost money yesterday, and I'm pretty
sure he went back after I fell asleep and lost some more.

Harry
is still talking, still trying to explain, but I'm too stunned to listen as I
stare down at the table and the stranger sitting across from us.   The dealer
has shoved the huge pile of chips toward him in a messy assortment of hard,
plastic, primary colors, but he's ignoring them as if they aren't worth
thousands of dollars.  Instead, he's watching me behind an expressionless
mask of blue eyes and blond stubble.  I wrench my gaze away and back to
Harrison.  He's still talking.  Still explaining.  I haven't
heard much, but I don't need to.  I've had enough.  I don't need to listen
anymore.  I've spent too long listening in the past.  I can recite the excuses
by heart.

"You
gambled me away," I say simply.  It isn't any more complex than that.

He
shakes his head, still in denial over what seems so undeniable to me now. 
We're done.

"Lila,"
he begins, but I shake my head again.

"Don't." 

I
can't imagine a single thing he can say right now to change the way I
feel.  In my mind, the last few months have been leading up to something
like this.  An inevitability that I've been trying to ignore, but now that
it's here, I already feel strangely calm about.

Of
course, in my mind I hadn't imagined it would go down like this. 
Thousands of miles from home, having my boyfriend of the last seven months
casually gamble me away to a complete stranger for the equivalent of a few
thousand dollars.  Yet in a way, it makes sense.  At least in terms
of my relationship with Harrison.

But
it leaves me without a plan forward.  Our flight home isn't until Monday
morning and it's only Friday night.  I have no intention of going back to
the hotel with Harrison now.  It would give him the wrong idea.  This
needs to end, and I have no intention of letting him talk me out of it
again.  This betrayal is the final straw.  He's hurt me for the last
time and, despite being at peace with the decision, I'm still so angry I want
to hurt him back.

I
look over at the other player.  He's still watching me with that handsome
but expressionless face.  Still ignoring the pile of money in front of
him.  Other people are watching as well, many of them whispering to each
other.  I just want to get out of there.

"What's
your name?" I ask, finally addressing him.

The
whispering grows louder, a few people exchanging questioning looks as if my
question is any more ludicrous than the rest of the last 15 minutes have
been.  The corner of his mouth curls up into a little half smirk, and his
blue eyes continue the smile.

"Chase,"
he says.  "Chase Anderson."

"Okay,
Chase Anderson.  Get me the hell out of here."

CHAPTER
TWO

"I'm
not sleeping with you," I say as I step inside the doorway of Chase's
penthouse suite.  It's actually the second time I've said that to him, although
the first time I remember there being more conviction behind the words.  It
would be easier if he wasn't so gorgeous.  And I wasn't so angry.

The
first time had been in the elevator on the ride up.  It was right after I
wondered how crazy I was to be alone with this handsome stranger who had
essentially just won me in a poker game, and right before two young guys got on
and acted like they were in the presence of greatness.  What the fuck was that
all about, anyway?  They knew his name and even asked him to sign the back of a
receipt they had on them.  Said they were big fans.  Of what, exactly?

Chase's
hotel room is bigger than my apartment back home, and clearly the decorating
budget greatly eclipsed the $500 that my roommate and I had scraped together. 

The
room Harry and I were staying in had a bed and a desk that were fighting for
space next to a small window.  This room doesn't even have a bed or a desk. 
Those items must be in one of the other rooms which branch off from here.  The
only things in this room are couches, carpets and paintings which face a big
flat screen television on one wall and curtains lining the edge of another.

Chase
is tapping on a touchscreen pad on an end table, and suddenly the curtains
begin to pull themselves back to reveal a breathtaking view.

"Wow,"
I breathe.  I can't help but be impressed with the sight and take a few steps
toward it.  The windows are floor to ceiling and we're looking out over the
brightly lit Las Vegas strip.  The MGM Grand and Monte Carlo hotels are
closest, but I can also see the sprawling City Center down below.

"I
never get tired of seeing this."

I
jump at the sound of his voice which is close enough to my ear that I can feel
the hotness of his breath as he stands behind me.  He's closer than he should
be.  Closer than he needs to be.  I'm surprised that I don't have an
overwhelming urge to step away.  I should.  Harrison and I haven't even been
split for half an hour. 

Truth
is, things haven't been working for a while.  This trip was against my better
judgment, but he argued that it would be good for us to get away.  That it
would bring us closer together.  It was obviously just an excuse for him to go
and feed his addiction.  Things had been headed in this direction for a while. 
I don't even remember the last time he and I had sex.  Even longer since we've
made love.

"Would
you like a drink..." he hangs the sentence in midair, as if waiting for me
to fill something in. 

I
turn to look at him, his blue eyes probing into me immediately as he waits.  I
suddenly feel my cheeks redden as I realize what he's waiting for.

"Lila,"
I finally say.  Shit.  I haven't even told this guy my name.  Where is my head
tonight?

"Beautiful,"
he smiles.  His teeth are straight and white, a traditional Colgate smile.  Is
there nothing about this guy that isn't perfect?  Blond, blue eyed, perfect
teeth, apparently rich and possibly famous.  What the hell was he thinking
trying to buy me in a card game?  Or win me. 

Is there a difference?

"Uh,
I'm not sure if that's a good idea.  I was just thinking maybe I should
go."  I wasn't thinking anything of the sort, but that's what I should be
thinking.  He's still closer than he needs to be.  Close enough that I can feel
the heat from his body caress mine.

He
raises an eyebrow.  "Where?"

Is
it that obvious that I have nowhere to go? 

"You're
from out of town, right?"  He shrugs as I nod.  "Tourists are obvious
sometimes.  But I assume you've been staying with... your boyfriend,
right?"

I
nod again.  He has a casual arrogance, like he knows everything already. 
Problem is, he's dead on so far.  He seems to know a lot more about me than I
know about him.  Although now that I've been staring at his face it is starting
to seem vaguely familiar.  Certainly not Hollywood A list familiar, but I've
seen him somewhere.

"You
aren't going to go back to him, are you?  After all, he did gamble you away in
a poker game."

"I
recall you being part of that wager," I snap back.  I'm not defending
Harrison, but I feel sensitive about it.  Embarrassed, really.  I take a step
back, putting some distance between us.  I decide to push my anger back at
him.  "Do you often make bets to win girls?"

Chase
purses his lips as his eyes flit across the newly created gap between our
bodies.  "I make a living taking advantage of situations where I know I have
an edge.  To do that you have to know the value of things, and only take risks
with something you can afford, or are willing to lose - generally with the
knowledge that what you have to gain is far greater than what you've put at
risk. 

"Your
boyfriend had lost more money than he could afford.  And then he risked
something that he shouldn't have been willing to lose to simply get back what
he shouldn't have lost in the first place.  I was in no such position.  I could
afford to lose the money, and my potential reward was far greater."

His
blue eyes are burning into me.  "I'm not your reward."

Chase
shakes his head.  "That's not what I mean.  The bet was more a test of the
man than anything.  Like I said, I could tell he was in over his head and I had
no wish to take further advantage of the situation.  The game, those stakes...
I play at that level occasionally for fun, not to fleece the tourists."

"So
what was your potential reward that you were willing to risk all that money
for, then?"

Chase
shrugged.  "Another gamble."  He takes a step forward, closing the
gap between us again.  "I understand that money was a lot to you and your
boyfriend, but it wasn't a lot to me.  So I took a chance with it.  I gambled
that, although you might think I was a jerk for trying to win you, you might
still end up willing to spend some time with me if I did.  That seemed worth
the price to me.  But to answer your earlier question, no.  I don't make it a
habit to bet on girls during poker games.  This was the only time."

Chase
seems like the kind of man who is used to winning, getting what he wants, but
the only reason I'm here is because I had looked around for the easiest and
quickest way to hurt Harrison, and leaving with his opponent seemed like the
best option. 

Actually
fucking him had never been a consideration.  Not that being with a man I'd just
met is entirely foreign to me, it just hadn't been part of my thought process
at the time.  But the way he's looking at me now... his mouth only inches away,
so close that I can feel the hotness of his breath with each word...  I know my
eyes are focusing on his lips as he speaks and I'm thinking more about how they
taste than the words they're forming.

"You
were the most gorgeous thing in that room."  His voice is lower now, but
he's close enough that every word is clear.  "Can you blame me for wanting
to hang out with you, get to know you?  But I want to be clear, I had no
expectations of you coming up here, or anything else.  I'm a gambler, and I
took a chance that my read on your boyfriend was right.  He didn't value you,
and I thought you should see that.  Part of that gamble was that maybe you'd
spend some time with me as well, sure.  But you don't have to.  You're free to
go." 

My
back is to the window as he shifts forward just enough that our bodies touch,
so lightly that it would be almost imperceptible if it wasn't the only thing
I'm focusing on at the moment.  Chase is so much the opposite of Harrison.

"If
I stay, I'm not sleeping with you," I repeat again, like it's a personal
mantra.  This time the words are quiet, almost as if I'm not sure I want him to
hear them, and even I can hear the lack of conviction behind them.

"Who
said anything about sleep?" I watch his lips move one last time to form
that sentence before they come forward. 

Desire. 
That's what his lips taste like.  Delicious desire.

Trust
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