The Monster (Boston Belles #3) - L.J. Shen Page 0,123

to me like you are.”

I took out my phone, gliding my finger on the screen until I got to Sam’s contact information, showing them his phone number. “How about I call Brennan and clear it with him? I’m sure he’ll have something to say about you not letting his girlfriend in.”

“Brennan doesn’t have a girlfriend,” one said.

“He doesn’t?” I snorted, my confidence wavering a little. “Didn’t know he spent a lot of time talking to his bouncers about his love life. My name is Aisling Fitzpatrick. Check with him if you want.”

The one who seemed hell-bent on not letting me in fished his phone out of his front pocket reluctantly, punching in Sam’s number while glaring at me. My heart was in my throat. This was the make or break moment. Sam would know I was here. The bouncer said my name. Asked if I could come in. There was a pause on the other line. The air was still despite the hustle and bustle of people, drinks, music, and the lights around us. After a second, he hung up and bowed his head, stepping sideways. His colleague widened his eyes.

“I’ll be damned. I thought pigs would fly sooner.”

“Keep the dream alive.” I patted his shoulder, shouldering past them.

I entered the hallway and picked the busiest, loudest, rowdiest card room. This time, I observed my surroundings more carefully than I did the night I came to fetch Cillian and Hunter. I had to look behind my shoulder for the bouncers and was too filled with white-hot rage to pay attention to anything back then.

Round, deep oak tables with green centers sat across the room with men in expensive suits huddled around them, smoking fine cigars and drinking brandy. They all looked like variations of the men in my family—privileged, corrupt, and desperate for cheap entertainment. There were also waitresses wearing tiny, black baby dolls, leaning down and tending to the clientele.

Scanning the room, I looked for the blackjack table. I knew how to play Texas hold ’em and seven-card stud, but my real specialty had always been blackjack. It was the first card game Cillian had taught me, and he made it a point to practice with me during Christmas Eves, after everyone had retired back to their rooms.

We kept that tradition alive for decades, this year included.

I found the table I was looking for and waited. I knew gambling in Sam’s establishment was going to make him explode with anger. My heart pinched a little when I realized he most likely was not around, but I forced myself to find the silver lining. The mere idea of me being here without him was going to bring him closer to asking me to move in with him again.

When the game drew to a close, I wedged myself in the middle of the semicircle of Prada-clad men, beaming at the dealer.

“I’d love to play.”

“I would love to play you,” a middle-aged man beside me jested, making the entire circle of men laugh crudely. I refused to let my smile drop.

“Wait, isn’t this …?” One of them frowned at me. I kept my gaze carefully on the dealer. “Whoa, it is. Aisling Fitzpatrick. Isn’t it your bedtime? Does your daddy know you’re here?”

I was three years shy of turning thirty, so this definitely stung, but maybe I deserved it for putting my parents’ needs before mine for almost three decades and still living at their place.

I stared at the dealer, ignoring the idiot talking to me. The older employee cleared his throat, widening his bowtie with his finger.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid—”

“Don’t be afraid. Fear is never a good look. Let me play,” I demanded, clinging onto my false confidence.

I was becoming aware of a warm, tingly sensation that spread from the top of my head down my spine. I knew exactly what it meant, and who just entered the room, but he didn’t make himself known.

“I’m not sure it is up to me, ma’am. See, there are rules regarding—”

“Me. Yes. I know. Brennan rescinded all of them.” I rolled up the sleeves of my Balmain mini-dress. “Same goes to women gambling in the card rooms. I’m not just any woman. I’m the woman Sam Brennan is engaged with in a battle of the wills. The rules do not apply to me. You can call and ask him yourself. That’s how I made it here in the first place.”

“There’s no battle, sweetheart. I won before I laid a finger on you, but nice try,”