Page 4 of Ace's Winning Hand
“You know what’s going on this weekend?” Donald’s voice is attempting to sound conspiratorial, but it misses the mark, considering he loves putting on a show.
“No fucking clue,” Bruno grunts, his focus on his cards instead of his friend. “It’s not like this is my town.”
Donald chuckles like Bruno just said something hilarious, and I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. “You visit here often enough, I thought you might have heard about it already.”
When all Bruno does is shake his head, Donald doesn’t seem to mind at all. He folds his cards with a huff and drains his drink. Then he focuses completely on his friend.
“There is a celebrity poker tournament at the Bellagio this weekend,” Donald’s voice is filled with too much glee.
I keep my face stoic, but I cringe internally. Whenever there’s a celebrity tournament, we have a few of them coming through Elysium because we’re discreet when it comes to our members and their movements. When you’re a celebrity in a town like Vegas, discretion is hard to come by.
They’re pains in the ass, and more entitled than I want to deal with.
I’ve been dreading this tournament since they announced the dates. Honestly, I haven’t bothered looking any deeper into it and have no idea who will be playing. It doesn’t matter who is coming into town as far as I’m concerned; I’ll deal with whoever shows up if they step foot in our casino and leave it at that.
“Those tournaments are a joke,” Bruno’s voice is bored. “They think because they’re actors or got a few minutes of fame for some bullshit then they’re going to be good poker players.” He scoffs, “It’s an insult to everyone who plays the game and takes it seriously.”
I can’t say I disagree with the man. Still, I get why these types of events keep getting hosted and televised.
Donald just shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I’m hoping to get a few of them out to my game. For most of them it’s just another chance to get in front of the camera, but there are some celebrities who know how to play. Could you imagine one of those entitled celebs at my poker table?”
The laugh that comes out of him is boisterous and borders on maniacal. The hair on my arms stands on edge. Bruno gives the man an epic side eye while keeping his face stoic.
I bet Donald is the reason Bruno doesn’t live here. How the fuck can they be friends?
While I’ll never ask them, I have so many questions about their friendship. How the hell did they even meet? It wouldn’t be surprising to find out they’ve known each other since they were kids or some shit. Honestly, it’s the only thing that makes sense.
And Donald is the one who keeps holding on to the friendship.
But I’ll never satisfy my curiosity. It’s not worth asking those questions out loud. I’ve found it’s better to keep a wall between me and our clients; it’s better for everyone.
“Sounds like a headache to me,” Bruno grumbles the words.
Internally I’m nodding in agreement, but nothing shows on my face, even though they’re not looking at me. My brothers know me as someone who lives with a smile on my face. When I’m working, I use all the tools I spent my youth perfecting.
I listen more than I say. I don’t show any emotions because they can be used against me. I don’t talk about my love for the game being played in the room.
Because none of it matters when it comes to my job.
When I’m with my brothers? When I don’t have to play a part? I’m a different guy.
“Nah,” Donald insists, “not a headache. A goldmine.”
Heleans back like he’s expecting someone to feed him grapes directly from the vine. My lip tries to curl as I watch his performance.
“There’s one person coming to the tournament that I have to meet,” Donald sounds downright giddy. “Quincy Wells is playing.”
Fucking hell.
Quincy Wells.
Talk about a sexy fucking woman. And she is all woman. I have no idea how she manages it, but she is incredibly fuckable, sinfully so, while managing to be innocent with a lot of girl-next-door energy.
What I wouldn’t give to have her looking at me with a coy smile on her lips while she blinks up at me with big, round eyes. Her lips would look fucking amazing wrapped around my cock. The thought of it has my dick twitching and thickening. Now isn’t the time, but that’s what thoughts of Quincy do to me.
I’ve had a crush on her for years.
The thought of her coming to my town is intriguing. I wouldn’t mind playing a few hands of poker with her. It wouldn’t be a hardship, and I can’t help but wonder what I could get her to bet. I’d do just about anything to get her into my bed.
