by Ana Adams
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” The new hand was being dealt, and Louis made sure the guy had his attention on him, not on Antonia’s cards. “You’re helping him cheat. I’m ten seconds away from making the biggest scene of your life.”
“Oh yeah? What makes you so sure anyone will listen to you?”
Louis pressed closer. “Do you know who I am?”
The man looked him up and down. The shuffling of chips in the background; bets being placed, gasps and murmurs in reaction.
“Nobody important.” The man tried to shove past Louis but he grabbed his arm and spun him around to face him, back to Florencio. Let him try to cheat for this hand.
“Watch your step. I control Monaco. You don’t want to fuck with me.”
Realization crossed his face, followed by fear. But the man squashed it, affecting a placid look once more. “I did nothing wrong,” he hissed in French. “You have no evidence.”
“Do you think I need evidence?” Louis offered a sardonic smile. He was just biding time for this hand to finish, to allow Antonia the chance to win a round. “My word rules here. Besides, the cameras are capturing everything. I saw your little ploy and I know exactly what to tell the officials. You should leave now.”
The man faltered, his dark eyes searching the distance for a response. “I have every right to be here.”
“Fine.” Louis loosened his grip on the man’s arm as the dealer called for cards. A gasp rippled through the crowd; applause erupted. At the table, Florencio looked even more sour than normal and slammed his cards onto the table. Antonia leaned forward to scoop the chips her way.
Turning back to the man, Louis lifted a brow. “Look at that.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and, while he searched for a contact, he casually murmured, “You have three minutes to evacuate the premises or I’ll make sure the tabloids don’t stop talking about the humiliation of your employer for a decade.”
Panic crossed the man’s face; he spun to look at Florencio, looked back at Louis, and then pushed his way through the crowd toward the exit.
Now that the playing field was leveled, his Antonia had a chance. Pride swelled in his chest as he watched her arrange her chips, ankles crossed neatly over the bar under the poker table, her figure pristine and delicious as he admired her from behind.
He couldn’t have stopped himself from intervening in the cheating, not in a million years. Which confirmed the truth that percolated hot and white inside him: that he was falling for Antonia, in a big way, so hard that he was willing to abort the plan he’d spent weeks crafting, the plan he’d thought was not only necessary but imperative for his—and Monaco’s—continued success.
He sighed deeply, crossing his arms over his chest, and waited for the next hand to begin.
Chapter Eight
The last hand.
Antonia fought the mix of fear and elation that threatened to bubble over if her mind wandered too far. Since about the fifth hand, the tables had turned inexplicably. Florencio’s run had mysteriously broken, and now she was only steps away from the championship.
She couldn’t fuck it up. Not when she was so close.
She wiped a bead of sweat from her temple. The tension and the camera lights were doing a number on her makeup job.
She pushed her chips toward the dealer for her bet. Florencio looked reserved but anguished on the far side. Her analytical mind kicked into high gear—by now, he was desperate to win and probably overrun with fear that he’d be beaten by a woman. He was the typical woman-hater; she could smell it from a mile away. Maybe not in his personal life, but when it came to winning and triumph…yeah, he was definitely the type to take offense to the feminine win.
Which was why, ever since his streak had broken, she’d been able to win hand over fist with him. He was getting sloppy, ruled more by dashing guesses and fear. This last hand would be no different. He might try to strike out in some wild, last-ditch effort. She had to be prepared.
Her cards were solid. She glanced at Florencio and the other remaining players. Two other folded; only she and Florencio remained.
A murmur swelled in the casino. The dealer laid his cards, followed by her and Florencio.
She squeezed her eyes shut as she set them down, face-up, waiting for the crowd’s reaction before opening her eyes.
There was a gasp, some shouts, and then a whole room-full of applause.
She opened her eyes. She saw Florencio’s disgust first, followed by the dealer’s bright smile, pushing all the chips her way. Tears pricked her eyes; this couldn’t be real. She looked around her, seeing hundreds of unknown, joyous faces, applause and screams filling the casino. No matter where she looked, she couldn’t find Louis, but she wasn’t even sure she’d be able to recognize anybody with the high she was on.
Florencio stormed away from the table, leaving an open, sour wake behind him. She rose to her feet, accepting the tray of poker chips the dealer had gathered and now presented to her. Three million euros. Her mind spun, her feet barely touching the ground as a tournament official signaled to a guard to take charge of the chips then guided her away from the table and toward the back of the casino for an interview.
She wiped away tears that had fallen. All she wanted was to hug Louis, to press her face against his chest and cry. How was this even possible? She craned her neck to find him, but couldn’t see him. Was her father watching? Was Gabi? They had to be—maybe they were jumping and screaming back in Milan. The thought made her smile even wider.
Before she disappeared into the back area for the interviews, a hand snagged her arm. She spun around, gaze landing on Louis’s flushed face. She sighed with relief, reaching for him, grateful when he whisked her into his arms and pressed her body hard against his. Tears escaped, blotting into his suit coat.
“Congratulations, Antonia.” His voice was a hoarse whisper against her ear. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed him tighter, hesitant to break this embrace, to let him out of her sight while she rode the wave of emotion. “Thank you for supporting me.”
They parted, and his eyes shone. He cupped her face in his hands and their lips collided, one kiss after another, desperation and joy and relief mingling in the space between them.
“Find me when you’re done. I’ll be outside.” He squeezed her hands and then released her. She drifted toward the back. What would her life be like from now on? Would she buy a house, or a car, or just invest it?
The possibilities swirled inside her like a tornado. She didn’t have to decide now. The only thing on her plate was shining for the interview and then finding Louis to properly celebrate her stunning victory.
As she breezed into the interview booth, her smile reached ear-to-ear.
She was ready for notoriety.
***
Louis felt as if he’d won the tournament alongside Antonia—people swarmed him in the lounge as he waited for her to emerge, pestering him with questions about the win, her background, their relationship, everything imaginable. He barely knew how to answer—mostly just nodded and smiled, unsure how much of this would reach the magazines the following day.
His hesitance to speak incorrectly solidified what had leapt out to him during the tournament—that his decision was made. He wanted—needed—to be with Antonia, not ruin her. The revelation made his hands shake, helped only by pacing and occasional work calls to take his mind off the road ahead.
Already his rationale was working overtime to find another way to redeem himself in the eyes of his peers and countrymen. If subjugating the enemy was no longer an option—and really, had that ever been a good option—there had to be some other way to nullify the slander Antonia’s father had spread. Disappointment spread through him—how could he finagle this? What choices did he have?
Perhaps Antonia could reason with him. Maybe her sweetness would lead the way to restoring his reputation.
It was all a gamble—but the biggest gamble
of all was the still-real risk of losing her, and he couldn’t let that happen. It was the only solid thing he knew.
When Antonia finally breezed through the doors of the casino, her face was flushed and glowing, tray of poker chips cocked haughtily on her arm. As she walked toward him, her heels click-click-clicking, her sultry gaze wiped away everything that had been on his mind.
“There you are.” He rushed toward her, sliding his hands around her waist. “I missed you. You champion.”
She giggled, looking up at him with joy in her eyes. “What a whirlwind. I’m starving.”
“Shall we celebrate? I’ve been dying to do all the most outrageously lavish things to celebrate your win.”
“Oh? What did you have in mind?”
“Ten thousand bottles of champagne. Carving your name in the side of a glacier. Naming a constellation after you.” He laughed, cinching her body close. She felt divine in his arms; it was an unavoidable fact. “But first, I want to feed you. Whatever you’d like.”
“Excellent.” She pursed her lips as she thought. “What’s the closest? I’m beat after this afternoon. The interviews and the tournament have sapped me entirely.”
“Shall we head up to the penthouse?” He grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, searching out her gaze. The intensity of it sent shivers through him. “We can call for room service. And the ten thousand bottles of champagne, of course. So you can rest and do whatever you’d like to do.”
A smile spread across her face. “I’d love that.” She paused, eyes searching for something in him. “I’m so glad we’ve been staying at the palace. You didn’t have to welcome me into your home.”
“You’re very special, Antonia. I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”
She drew a low breath, nodding. “Me too.”
Taking her hand, he led her toward the far wall of elevators. “Now I think it’s time we got you fed and into bed to recuperate. Because there’s a very long night ahead of us, and I can’t promise I’ll go easy on you.”
“I’d like to see what you have in store,” she countered. “I can take whatever you’ve got.”
“I don’t know.” He feigned a stern look. “Watching you take the jackpot was incredibly arousing. There’s no telling what I might do to you.”
She giggled, pressing herself against him. “Let me have it, prince.”
***
As soon as the bedroom door unlatched, Louis swept her into his arms, covering her mouth with his. They stumbled into the royal suite, the same place they’d made love the first night. She giggled as he guided her backwards toward the bed, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth.
“I’m going to devour you,” he growled, pulling at the zipper on the back of her dress. “The most famous poker player in Southern Europe.”
“My fame exceeds yours,” she said, lifting a brow, the mischief twinkling in her eyes. He laughed, lowering the sleeves over her shoulders, helping her shimmy out of the garment.
“You’re right. And I’m not even jealous.”
When she stood in only her bra and undies before him, he gave a low whistle, tracing the curve of her porcelain hips with his hands. “You’re so beautiful. I want you sculpted.”
She yanked at the front of his shirt, bringing his body roughly against hers. “I think as the prince of Monaco you can make that happen. Where are your royal sculptors?”
He laughed, nuzzling his nose against hers. “Lurking in the halls of the palace, waiting for the next commission.”
They shared a deep kiss, and when they parted, Antonia stepped out of her dress and heels and grabbed the tray of chips. Glancing back at him with dark fuck-me eyes, she made a display of bending over the king-sized bed and spreading the chips out to cover the comforter, legs spread, ass high in the air.
“I want you to fuck me over everything I’ve won today.” Her voice was a low purr. “Come here, prince.”
His voice shriveled in his throat, and he fumbled with the clasp on his pants, toeing off his shoes as he made hasty moves to disrobe. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, unable to rip his eyes off Antonia as she slid her panties down and tossed them across the room by a toe.
“I thought you said you were tired.” He was hard already—just one glance at those long porcelain-skinned legs and he was practically mindless with desire. She laughed, low and throaty, rolling back and forth over the chips.
“That changed.” She watched him over her shoulder. “There’s a certain energy in this room that’s reenergized me.”
He reached for a condom from his wallet—this woman was ready to fuck, and he might come just from watching her, needy and desperate for him. He came up to the tall bed, rubbing a hand over her ass cheek, slapping her on the meaty side of her upper thigh. She drew in a sharp breath, clutching at the covers.
“You want it?” He kissed her lower back, dragging his lips over her ass, down to the sweet crease of her pussy. She spread her legs, tensing as he breathed hot against her but not touching. Yet.
“Please, Louis.” Her voice was somewhere between a gasp and whimper.
He kissed the inside of the back of her thigh, getting dangerously near to her pussy, then took a healthy bite of her butt. She was so delicious he could eat her up. While she writhed, waiting for his touch, he buried his face between her legs and licked, finding the sweet, tight nub of her clitoris.
She cried out, legs opening wider. He pressed her tongue flat against her clit and worked her for a minute, mind dizzy with satisfaction as she cried out for more. He slid his tongue to her dripping entrance, flicking in and out, as deep as he could go. She moaned low, backing up against him, white-knuckling the comforter.
“Mmmm.” When he pulled away, mouth glistening, he wiped the back of his arm across his face and reached for the condom. He couldn’t wait much longer, and he wanted to finish inside of her, not in an inglorious pile at the end of the bed.
“Holy shit,” she gasped, head against the bed. “You do that so well.”
He grinned and ripped open the condom, sheathing his cock quickly. “Thank you for the high compliment.”
She eyed his erection, lips curling up at the corner. “You do that so well, too.”
“You’re about to get the best I’ve ever given.” He waved his cock in the air, lifting his eyebrows. “It’s all for you, my sweet.”
He came up to the edge of the bed, and she hoisted her ass in the air. She’d warmed so quickly to sexual exploration, and with her truly open, adventurous inclinations, they could have a lot of fun for a very long time. The thought warmed him but as he prepared to penetrate her, the here and now chased it away. She whimpered as he lined up their parts, wiggling her ass in the air.
Smiling, he smoothed a hand over her ass, grabbing a handful of her upper thigh. “Here I come.”
He inched in slowly, easing the head in bit by bit as she received him, stretching against his size. She moaned low the deeper he sank; when he was buried to the hilt his head fell back and he let out a gravelly moan, grabbing at her hips, loving the feel of filling her, being surrounded by her heat.
“Oh, Louis,” she whimpered, clutching at the covers as he started a languorous rhythm against her, taking it slow at first so she could accommodate him. This angle, with her ass in the air, was too deep, too mind-blowing to resist. His body tensed, pleasure making tight tendrils in his groin as he prepared to climax.
He wanted to hold out for her, so they could come at the same time, but he didn’t know if he could last that long. Slamming into her as deeply as he could, she gasped with each pound, the flesh of her ass jiggling a little as he rocked against her. He reached around her hip, searching out her clit, smoothing his fingers over the slippery folds there as he fucked her.
Her breath hitched; she tensed against him, ripping the comforter out of its neat position. Poker chips clattered to the floor. He grunted, eying the sexy curve of her back, his gaze falling to the sight of his co
ck filling her then retreating, over and over and over again, and he couldn’t contain it any longer.
“I’m close,” he said, stilling himself against her, gathering his senses long enough to stave off the orgasm that was begging for release.
“Me too,” she breathed, pressing into him. “Fuck me harder.”
With a grunt, he did as she ordered, slipping his fingers over the swollen nub between her legs as he pounded her. His own climax came in a whoosh, bright lights behind his eyelids and the sweet rush of pleasure that tingled through his entire body, all the way down to his toes. She cried out, tense beneath him, her pussy clenching his cock in the tell-tale waves that told him she’d reached her peak alongside him.
He cried out gruffly and curved himself against her body as they came, pulses of hot cum filling the condom as he rode the sticky, shattering orgasm.
She quivered beneath him and then flopped onto the bed, face buried in chips and covers. He eased down gently next to her, drawing deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He nudged her into his arms and she acquiesced, a lazy smile on her face, nuzzling into his chest.
“Wow.” Her voice was a whisper. She hooked her arm over him, looking up at him with bright, shining eyes. “That was quite the celebration.”
He hefted with laughter. “I hope you found it to your liking.”
“Expectations surpassed.” She dragged her fingertips along his breastbone, tugging occasionally at the tiny hairs there. “Lou, I feel so good with you.”
He clasped her hand in his. “I feel the same about you.”
She pushed herself up onto an elbow. “My flight for Italy leaves tomorrow.”
Panic cinched his chest. “Can’t you stay a bit longer? I’ll cover the costs. Don’t worry.”
Indecision crossed her face. “For how much longer?”
“As long as you can.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek, searching her face for a positive answer. “Please. Just stay with me.”
She seemed to mull it over, a smile tugging at her lips. “Okay. But I’ll need to have my phone shipped to me, or get a replacement, or something. I do have a life beyond your royal suite and the palace, you know.”
