The Gambler - Raquel Belle Page 0,7

The gold glints back at me. Each one is emblazoned with Fortuna’s signature F, matching the one that appears on the casino’s chips.

“Terry! Table ready for me?”

“All yours, boss.” Although he’s worked for me for more than a decade, Terry has never once broken the formal employer-employee boundary between us, a fact that I appreciate. I glance back at the security monitor one more time. Our mole has done his job. Paul has zoomed in on the shot. Good job, newbie, I think to myself. He’s showing Deanna nodding enthusiastically and grabbing a hesitant-looking Lilly by the arm. Even on the tiny screen, I can see a thin line of worry etched across Lilly’s forehead.

I head to the door and punch in the security code to exit. Before leaving, I turn back to Terry. “I may not be back tonight if this poker game is hot.”

“No problem. It’s a quiet night.” Terry allows himself a rare grin, his teeth flashing white against his dark skin. He well knows that a “quiet night” in Fortuna would be intimidating as hell to plenty of other floor managers. “I’ve got it under control here.”

“I figured.” I shoot him back a smile. Without another look back, I exit the security hub. I’m released into the tiled hallways of the casino’s backroom operations. This maze of corridors is for employees only. This is where all the behind-the-scenes action takes place. It’s also the fastest way to get where I need to go—the private poker suites. Fortuna is a massive property. 3,000 rooms. 14 restaurants. 3 pools. A massive greenhouse with full-grown palm trees. An in-house aquarium. And 100,000 square feet of gaming space. But right now, none of that matters.

“’Evening, boss.” The gruff security guards standing outside the entranceway to the private poker room greet me with surly faces.

“Gentlemen.” I nod as I pass them.

“Mr. Milner, how are you?” Tessa, the room’s svelte blonde hostess, greets me with a smile and snaps to the young cocktail waitress behind her. I’m immediately presented with a tray holding a single glass of scotch, neat. No ice. “We’ve been expecting you.” Tessa smiles. I nod. This is typical. I work hard and I hire the best so that Fortuna runs like a well-oiled machine.

I take my drink, down it, and head through the red velvet curtains to the green-topped table behind. Already, a small group of men is seated. Each one has a pile of chips in front of him. I recognize Mr. Hayashi, a Japanese businessman who frequents our establishment, and Jeremy Ainsworth, the son of a prominent New York City hedge fund manager. Jeremy is steadily chiseling away at his trust fund by playing in games like these, confident in the fact that his massive fortune will never run dry. Finally, there’s Maurice, a notorious whale who flies in occasionally from Monaco. The men nod in greeting.

“Is the big boss joining us tonight?” Maurice asks coolly, his eyebrows twitching.

“As an exception.”

“Thought the House never plays.”

“I play with my own money.” I shrug. “There’s me and then there’s the House. And there’s my money and then there’s the House’s money. I play for me.” Without another word, I take a promissory note out of my pocket and hand it the dealer. What I said was true, there’s my money, and then there’s the casino’s money.

“Changing 250,000,” he announces the figure to the room and then slides over a pile of silver chips. These color chips aren’t seen out on the floor, where the max is the $5,000 brown chip. You only see silver in the private rooms. Each chip is worth $25,000.

“We’re waiting on one more player,” I tell the men as I sit down.

The dealer is alert. Only our best are allowed to work the back rooms. If he does a good job tonight—and if the pot gets as big as I’m planning—he will easily walk away with a six-figure tip.

Other than the dealer, the room is serviced by Tessa and two cocktail waitresses. A private bar manned by a bartender is set up in the corner. In addition to the two security guards at the door, we have two men in the room. With this much money on the table, you don’t take any chances in terms of security.

“Shit! This is a fucking step above. I wish the rest of the crew could see this.” A female voice slurs from the other side of the red curtain that separates off the table from the room’s

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