His name is Kyle King, he’s twenty-six and is the CEO of King Corporation. I searched through page after page trying to find photos of him, but the only ones I came across are the few headshots from the casino website, a few paparazzi snaps, and a load of random people with the same name. I trawl through countless trashy magazine and newspaper articles, the only thing I can dredge up about him is the fact that he got into a lot of fights when he was younger, some of them only a few years ago.
I’ve spent my shift glancing up at the door every time the bell chimes, silently hoping that Kyle would come back, but he never did. Every time I looked up to see it wasn’t him, my shoulders would drop in disappointment. Even though I knew deep down he wouldn't come back here, I was still hopeful that he would.
After yet another slow and uneventful day at work I begin my walk back home. It’s cold out tonight, so I plunge my hands into the pockets of my jacket, only my fingers touch something inside, stopping me in my tracks. I pull the object out, it’s the poker chip that Kyle left me yesterday. I rub my thumb over the smooth face of the chip, over the golden crown that sits in the center, over the name of the casino.
He told me to cash it in at seven, it’s just gone five-thirty.
Curiosity grips me. Fuck it.
I turn left and instead for heading home, I make my way towards the subway.
A short while later I reach the station, and within a few minutes, my train arrives. I hop on and take a seat.
Next stop, New York City.
Chapter 7
Hayley
I arrive at the casino. The same feeling of unease and foreboding I felt the last time I was here fill me, making my stomach churn with anxiety. I climb the steps that lead to the front entrance and head for the door, showing the man on the door my ID and he lets me through.
I stand in the entrance to the casino and take it all in, it’s just as magnificent as I remember from the other night. I reach into my pocket and feel for the chip, squeezing it tightly in my palm. As if subconsciously, I scour the room for Kyle, for any hint of him, but I can’t see him.
I check the time on my phone, 6:56, close enough. I inhale deeply before making my way to the cashing office, to the man sat behind the desk, I recognise him from the other night when I was last here. I stand in line behind a couple of people in front of me and wait my turn.
“Can I help you?” he asks when I near the desk.
I pull out the chip and place it on the desk in front of him. “I’d like to cash this in.”
He eyes me knowingly before taking the chip and spinning in his chair, only to turn and face me a second later, sliding a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill towards me. “Here.” He nods politely before motioning with his hand to someone behind me.
I glance over my shoulder to a huge, bald burly bouncer striding towards me, I whirl my head back around to the man at the desk. “What’s going on, is there a problem?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
I’m met with no answer. Just as the bouncer comes to a stop beside me, the man at the desk hands him the gold poker chip and he takes it before turning his attention to me.
“Would you come with me miss?” His deep, gruff voice sending chills through my body, my stomach twisting in knots of fear and dread.
He begins to steer me away towards the grand staircase carpeted in red in the center of the room, leading to the first floor. There are two men, dressed in black suits standing either side of the staircase, guarding the long red rope barriers that stretch across the wide expanse of the steps. We head up the stairs where I am met with a sea of poker tables, we wind our way through, the bouncer only a few steps ahead of me, leading the way towards a set of private tables at the back of the room, hidden behind red velvet curtains that separate each one, some are pulled back, some are drawn, indicating what I guess means that are occupied.
We reach one of the rooms with the curtain drawn, and pull it back, the room is made up with a poker table that commands the entire room that is decorated in red, a large glass chandelier hanging above the table. A few men surround it, including Kyle, who is sat directly opposite the curtain, facing me.
His gaze locks with mine and my stomach flutters. We stare in complete silence, a slight smirk touching his lips. He glances to my right where the bouncer stands.
“What is this?” I ask, my eyes flicking between Kyle and the bouncer.
“Hayley?” I hear from behind me.
I whirl around to find my dad sat in the seat opposite Kyle. “Dad? What are you doing here?”
The bouncer clears his throat next to me. “Excuse me Mr King, you told us to inform you when a young woman handed over this,” he holds up the chip, “and to bring her directly to you.” He steps forward and places the chip on the table in front of Kyle.
“Thank you, Chris, you may go,” he replies.
The bouncer nods and retreats, pulling the curtain closed behind him.
“What is this?” I repeat, my eyes trained on Kyle.
“I knew you’d cash in the chip, I knew you’d come.” He reclines in his chair confidently, taking a swig of his drink, his gaze never wavering from me.
“Hayley, what are you doing here?” my dad asks, tearing me out from under Kyle’s spell.
“Never mind me, why are you here?” I ask, just as realisation sets in. “The money we won, you couldn’t resist, could you? You promised you wouldn’t. Dad, you gave me your word.”
I shake my head in disbelief, trying to suppress the tears that threaten to escape. “That is our money you are gambling away. Ours. You had no right. We needed that money, it was enough for us, but no... you had to have more.”
“I had every right, Hayley. I am your father and I do not have to answer to you. What I do, and why I do it, is my business,” he snaps.
“Not when we could lose everything. Not when we’re so close to being able to pay off mom’s medical bills. Not after we’ve saved for years, and for what, for you to just throw it away and take us back to square one?”
“Hayley,” my father warns.
We stare at each other for a moment.
Kyle clears his throat and sighs heavily. “Well Mr Roberts, shall we get on with the game?” he asks. The way he says it makes it sound as though he is bored.
Arrogant ass.
“Yes, of course. My apologies for my daughter, Mr King,” my father replies.
I grit my teeth, wanting to say something, but instead, I hold my tongue, figuring it best to keep my mouth shut. For now.
The poker game goes on for what seems like hours. Having not a clue what is going on, I retire to the chair in the corner of the room, shrugging off my jacket as it’s getting hotter and hotter in here with every passing minute.
Every now and again, men leave the table and walk away until the only people sat at the table are my dad, Kyle, and the dealer. Piles of poker chips stand on the table next to my dad, an even bigger pile sit next to Kyle.
My dad sits forward, leaning on the table, his rapt attention focused on his cards whereas Kyle sits relaxed, leaning back in his chair boldly. He looks between his cards and my father, takes a deep breath, sits up and pushes every pile of chips into the center of the table. “All in. Five hundred thousand.”
My dad looks over his chips, his shoulders slump slightly, knowing he doesn’t have enough to make the bet.
Kyle must pick up on it because he leans forwards, resting his forearms on the table and sighs deeply. “I’m willing to make you a deal Mr Roberts, go all in with the three hundred grand you have, and if you win this game, you take it all, everything on the table.”
“What would you get out of doing that? That’s ridiculous.” He shakes his head. “And if you win?”
He steals a quick glance at me. When his eyes meet mine, my stomach flips. He smirks, like he knows exactly what he is doing to me, like he knows exactly how he makes me feel.
I stare at him, stunned, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
/> “As I’m feeling particularly generous… if I win, you keep the three hundred grand, on the condition that I get your daughter, for the whole week.”
“What?” I shout, jerking up from the chair. “No way! That is not happening!”
“It’s a fair deal.”
“You planned this. Is this why you got my dad into the game in the first place? Gave me that stupid poker chip to get me here? To get to me?”
He turns to me and looks me in the eye, his face hard. “I know what I want.”
“This is ridiculous. Come on dad, we’re leaving.” I begin to walk away but I stop when I realise my dad isn’t following me.
I look back to see he is still sitting at the table, scratching his head, deep in thought.
“Dad?” He looks up at me. His answer written across his face, his decision already made. “You’re not considering this are you?”
“It’s a lot of money, Hayley.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re willing to risk losing, and handing me over to him to do God knows what?” I can’t believe this.
“I won’t lose. I can win, I know it. He’s bluffing.”
“Only one way to find out.” Kyle smirks.
“Dad,” I plead.
He gives me one last look, before pushing all of his chips into the center of the table.
I watch on in fear, my pulse pounding so hard I can hear it in my eardrums.
My father is going to lose, I can feel it, and I’m going to have to spend a whole week with him, doing whatever he wants. I’m filled with dread.
Yesterday, Kyle was a mysterious stranger, one you would find in a romance novel, one that makes your heart skip a beat and your cheeks flush, today, he is a ruthless bastard who toys with people, who uses their weaknesses and their desperations to get what he wants. I hate him. Anything I felt towards him earlier, feelings of want and desire for him are long gone.
I slowly make my way into an empty chair at the table, my eyes not leaving the game. My heart is in my throat, beating a mile a minute, waiting, and hoping, my stomach churning with nerves.
Kyle carefully lays his cards down on the table and leans back in his chair. “A Royal Flush,” he says proudly.
I know very little about poker, but I know enough to know what it means. A Royal Flush is the highest hand in poker, and it is extremely rare, only managed by the most skilled and experienced poker players, by someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.
My dad looks at me, remorsefully and tosses his cards down on the table.
“Mr King wins,” the dealer announces.
“Good game, Mr Roberts.” Kyle stands up from the table, unbuttoning his jacket and loosening his tie slightly. “I’ll wire three hundred grand to your account once the week is up, as promised.”
“I can’t believe this,” I mutter, I can feel that familiar sting of tears in the back of my eyes again.
He turns to me. “Hayley, shall we go?”
“Fuck you. I never agreed to any of this,” I snap.
I stand up from my chair, the legs scraping the plush red carpet and storm past my dad, barging past Kyle, shoving his shoulder as I walk away.
Chapter 8
Hayley
I burst out of the front entrance and take a deep breath of the cool evening air. It is dark outside now, how did so many hours pass so quickly? Tears stream down my face, mixing with the rain that is beginning to come down. Any other day I would hate it, but tonight the rain is soothing, comforting.
“Are you alright sweetheart?” a woman asks.
I look at her, she must be in her mid-forties, early fifties, she looks at me with concern. “I’m fine... thanks,” I reply.
I run down the steps, turning left and begin walking. For New York City, the streets are unusually empty and quiet, despite how late it is. I walk slowly, the events of the past few hours fill my head. How could my dad do that to us? To me? How could he gamble with me, my life so easily? Do I mean that little to him?
I carry on walking and before I know it, I'm lost. I haven’t been concentrating on where I'm walking and I have ended up in an alley, where I am met by two male silhouettes. From what I can see in the limited light, both of them have their attention fixed onto me.
“What do we ‘ave ‘ere then, Danny?” one of them asks, his thick British accent cutting through the air.
“Must be our lucky night, Harry.” This one has the accent of a New Yorker.
I begin to back away, but I come to a stop when I back into someone else.
“I go to find more booze and I see you two assholes have already started the party without me, who is this beautiful gem who has come to join us?” the third man asks.
“Just about to find out,” the man called Danny replies.
I scoot around the third man but end up backed against a wall. The three of them close in on me. All I know is that they are considerably taller, and judging by their voices, my guess is they are older too.
The rain is coming down harder now, my clothes are beginning to stick to my body, and they notice, enough light cascades over us that I can see three pairs of eyes zero in on my shirt which is now sheer, my nipples peeking through my bra and my shirt.
Shit. I left my jacket back at the casino on the chair, along with my phone. I was so angry and upset that I completely forgot it. My heart is racing, my limbs trembling not only from the cold and the rain, but with fear.
“Don’t come any closer,” I warn, trying to sound confident, trying to stay strong as anyone can in this situation, but my voice comes out shaky.
“Don’t be like that darlin’, we ain’t gonna ‘urt ya,” the man called Harry says, as he touches my cheek with his hand. “Just gonna ‘ave, a little bit of fun. You’ll like it, you’ll see.” His lips brush my face, his breath reeks of alcohol and he smells of stale cigarettes and sweat, as do his friends.
Feeling brave, I drive my knee between his legs, he wails and falls to the ground, holding his groin. “You little bitch!” he screams.
I push against one of the others and break into a run, back towards the street but a hand tugs on my waist and I’m pulled back by one of them. I scream as loud as I can before I'm slammed against the wall by the third man. My wrists are held by one of his hands above my head, while he slaps me hard across my face with the back of his free hand. My right cheek stings, the force of the blow making my ears ring.
“So, you wanna play like that, bitch? Fine by us.” He leans in closer, his lips grazing my ear, “Gonna be more fun for us if you fight.”
I whimper.
By this time, Danny joins him, while Harry still lies on the floor clutching his groin.
“She’s gonna be so fucking sweet, man.” Danny says, unzipping his pants reaching in to touch himself. He lets out a deep, guttural groan as his free hand skims across my body, grabbing my left breast roughly through my shirt.
A scream catches in my throat but I swallow it down as a memory flashes in my head.
You're welcome to scream as loud as you like, I love it when they scream for me...
The third man puts his face into my neck and leans his body into me, pinning me harder against the wall, forcing my knees apart with his own. I can feel the hard outline of his dick pressing into my thigh. I try to escape their grasp but they’re too strong. Too heavy. I can’t fight them both, I’m not strong enough. It's going to happen again. It’s happening all over again.
But I’ll be damned if I stop fighting now. I didn't fight hard enough last time, but not tonight. I won't let it happen again.
I stamp my foot down on one of theirs as hard as I can, earning me yet another hard slap across the face, the sting radiating across my cheek and my vision goes fuzzy, but I don’t give in. I kick them in the shins, but it only makes things worse, they spread my feet apart with theirs so I can’t move, I’m pinned.
I continue to struggle when I feel one of them unbuttoning my jeans, a rough, calloused hand creeps it's way under th
e waistband of my jeans and into my panties, cupping me roughly. A sob rips through me at his brutal touch. A scream rips through me and a hand clamps down on my mouth to quieten me. I widen my mouth as far as it can go and bite down into his hand, hard.
“You bitch!” one of them screeches. He grips my throat roughly. I can taste the metallic tang of blood on my tongue, I feel sick.
I spit in his face. “Fuck you.”
His grip on my neck tightens and I struggle for air.
This is it, this is where I die.
I hear loud footsteps approach and before I know what's happening, one of them is ripped away from me. The man still holding me pulls away, releasing my neck and I cough, gasping for breath. “What the fuck?” he asks as a fist collides with his face. He goes down unconscious, out cold by one solid punch.
The Game Page 4
