“You what?” Sailor pressed.

“I pulled a muscle in my foot.” I reached for my drink, forcing myself to swallow down a sip, my fingers shaking so bad the water sloshed over.

“Oh, shoot.” Ash scrunched her nose, pushing her chair back. “Let me have a look, maybe I can…”

“No!” I cried out. My husband fingered me deeper, faster, more possessively than he’d ever touched me. He was knuckle-deep inside me now, spreading me wide, making me feel deliciously full. “I-I’m fine now. Thanks.”

Cillian’s expression was empty as he examined Belle’s hand calmly.

“Beginner’s luck,” he decided.

Obviously disappointed by his lack of emotional response, my sister snorted.

“Don’t worry, Kill, I’ll clean out your chips by the end of the next game.”

“And my house, if that stripper club gig doesn’t pan out.”

Devon started dealing again.

I was panting hard, grasping the edges of my seat now, chasing his touch under the table. I’d never felt so hot and bothered in my entire life. Paxton and I had never had sex anywhere worth mentioning. What made everything a million times hotter was no one suspected what we were doing. My husband was the vision of everything elegant, golden and proper, wearing his icy, unapproachable mask while he did filthy things to me.

Kill picked his new cards when I reached my peak. I wrapped my fingers around his thick wrist under the table as I angled him where I wanted him and began riding his hand in a wave-like motion. My climax shook me to the core. Every muscle in my body clenched, my breath stopped, and my mouth fell open, an earthquake rocking me head-to-toe.

“My Gosh, Pers, you sure everything’s okay? You look in pain,” Ash lamented behind my eyelids. I blinked, drugged and satisfied.

“Another cramp. Sorry.” I knew my cheeks were flushed. Kill threw a card in a pile, drew another one with frigid disinterest. His hand retreated from between my legs, outside my panties.

He stopped to wipe my juices on my thigh, rearranging my dress above the smears of my climax.

“I better walk a little, stretch my limbs.” I shot up to my feet. “Anyone want anything from the kitchen?”

“Cognac,” Kill said, not withdrawing his eyes from his cards.

“Guinness,” Hunter gruffed.

“Cyanide.” Sam raised his hand. “Make it a double. This game is boring me to death.”

“That’s because you don’t enjoy money and always fold early.” Hunter snorted. “Why do you do that?”

“I don’t play to win or lose,” Sam explained.

“Then why do you play?”

“To study my opponents, find their weakness, and use it against them.”

“Ah.” Hunter nodded. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“You got my baby sister pregnant,” Sam scowled. “A little late for that.”

I locked myself inside the kitchen to steady my breath and wipe away any suspicious stains. I came back with a tray and distributed the drinks. Afterward, I loitered around the room, studying the artwork on the walls. Rustic paintings of the woods, lakes, and snowstorms. One of them drew my attention. It was of a moonlit cabin, but there was a thick, big cloud in its backdrop.

Aunt Tilda?

“Flower Girl,” Cillian clipped, using my nickname in front of everyone. All heads looked up in unison as though he’d spoken in another language. He pointed at my seat. I whipped my head from the painting.

“Show your sister which side you’re on.”

“You sure? It wouldn’t be yours.” I put on a sarcastic smile, but I was honest. Belle was my sister. I’d always have her back.

Belle laughed. “Ouch.”

My husband moved the remainder of his chips to the center of the table, unfazed.

“All in.”

Sailor and Belle looked at each other. Over the course of the evening, the games were pretty even, with Cillian, Sailor, and Belle ending up with about the same amount of chips.

Hunter, Devon, and Sam all folded, too entertained by the prospect of seeing Kill going against two women who wanted him dead to interfere.

“Me too.” Sailor pushed forward her pile of chips, turning to Belle. “You?”

“Goes without saying.” Belle dumped all her chips, rubbing her palms together.

Sailor was the first to put her cards down. “Say hello to my two pairs.”

Belle patted Sailor’s shoulder smugly, revealing her own cards.

“That’s all nice and dandy, but you’re formally invited to my second full house in a row. Gee, I wonder what I’ll do with all this money.” She smiled at my husband, tapping her lips. “I’m thinking a vacation in the Bahamas or maybe get a new car. Whaddaya think, Fitzpatrick? Will I look good in a Mercedes?”

Please don’t tell my sister she’d look good in a coffin, I inwardly prayed.

It was such a Cillian thing to say.

Kill’s face remained blank. He dropped his cards lazily, revealing a hand that made everyone in the room suck in a breath.

“Royal flush!” Belle bristled, jumping up. “There is a one in a half-million chance of getting a royal flush, and you’re not that damn lucky. You tampered with the cards. Admit it.”

It was Kill’s turn to stand. He didn’t collect the chips, just stared at Belle with a look that made me realize he never liked her. Whatever made him look at her every time we were in the same room together was not lust. He told me he never wanted her, and I finally believed him. Kill was cruel, decadent, and bad to the bone, but lying and cheating were beneath him.

“If you’re going to throw around accusations, you better back them up with some facts.” He raised an eyebrow.

“How the hell would I do that?” She laughed bitterly. “Fine. Whatever. Just so we’re clear, I think you’re the most corrupted man on the planet.”

“Just so we’re clear,” he mimicked her tone, causing stifled giggles to rise from the table, “I don’t care. Keep the change. And to your question of what to do with said money, I suggest you buy some common sense. In the meantime, I remind you that you’ve agreed not to interfere with my marriage. No brainwashing my wife or giving her a piece of your mind about me. She’s a big girl and can make her own decisions. Same goes to you.” He snapped his fingers at Sailor.

With that, he walked away, leaving the room.

The men were the first to chuckle and get up, trickling back into their rooms.

We women sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, digesting.

“What just happened?” Aisling asked, finally.

“I think,” Belle rolled one of the poker chips between her fingers, “Pers just managed to put the first chip in Satan’s icicle heart.”

“And it hurt him.” Sailor laughed. “Like a bitch.”

Devon: We need to buy time. Sit down with Arrowsmith and compromise.

Me: Wrong number.

Devon: You pay me to give you solid advice. My advice is to sign a backroom sweetheart deal and figure out your long-term plan after you dismantle this ticking bomb.

Me: The only backroom thing Arrowsmith will be getting from me is going to send him into anal reconstructive surgery.