Vote Then Read: Volume III

by Aleatha Romig

  “It’s a mess. We can’t do that. We accepted his buy-in.”

  I sat taller. “And you accepted each player’s entry fee.”

  “I know. I know. Ever since Mr. Kelly’s visit with Mr. Beckman, I’ve been hoping someone would willingly drop out. I know that isn’t right, but it would make things go smoother.”

  “He came in here...in person? When?” The rest of her statement registered. “Drop out?”

  “Yes, it wasn’t long ago. I believe he left just before your arrival.”

  My skin warmed.

  Fuck.

  If I tell her that I don’t have my chip receipt, she could say I was disqualified. That would help her situation and open a spot for Patrick.

  There was no way I could let that happen.

  She waved her hand. “I apologize. You didn’t come here to hear me complain.” Her expression morphed into one of alarm. “Please forget what I said. It was wrong of me, an old lady’s musings. I would never mean to insinuate that Club Regal would deny Mr. Kelly. I wouldn’t want that to get out. It’s not what I meant.” Her words came faster. “I am simply exasperated at the whole precedent. I hope you understand.”

  Why was she suddenly nervous?

  There was no way for her to know that I have had any association with Mr. Kelly.

  “Ms... I mean Madeline,” she said, leaning forward, “forget we had this talk. Let’s regroup. Now, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?”

  “I was just wondering if the club has record of our earnings thus far. I was curious if you retained that information or only we have our own receipts.”

  “The chips were counted, collected, and tagged accordingly. Despite all that has occurred, when you enter the hall tonight your receipt is merely your entry ticket. The dealers will confirm that your receipt matches their records and after the players are randomly assigned to the individual tables, you will be given your chips, the same ones you had last night. You know how superstitious gamblers are? We try to account for all circumstances.”

  “And if someone misplaced their receipt?”

  “Madeline, this is far from your first go-round. You know that would put the club in a difficult spot.”

  I smiled. “It seems that is where the club is at this moment with Mr. Hillman and now Mr. Kelly.”

  “I hope you’re not saying that your receipt is missing.”

  “If I were saying that, I would hope that Club Regal would be as accommodating to me as it has been to Mr. Hillman and Mr. Kelly. After all, we want a female to win, and I would hate for your displeasure regarding the recent situations to be repeated.”

  No, I wasn’t above using her confession as leverage.

  “Very well,” Veronica said as she stood. “If you will join your associate in the bar for a few minutes, I can see what can be done.”

  My head tilted as I smiled. “I so appreciate your assistance. Thank you.”

  Patrick

  After securing my buy-in to the tournament, as I was leaving Club Regal, I peered into the mostly empty bar. I had places to go and work that needed tending, not to mention a tournament to play later tonight, yet at the sight of the man who had been with Madeline, I was drawn into Bar Regal. Apparently, last night, after a bit of questioning, the staff member I’d asked to delay this gentleman allowed his reentry to the second floor and the tournament. I hadn’t had time to follow up other than to learn his name: Mitchell Leonardo.

  I would learn more. Now I had the opportunity to do it in person.

  Standing tall and squaring my shoulders, I stepped across the threshold. The interior was upscale. Bar Regal was subdivided into different rooms. The first one contained the shiny long bar surrounded by barstools. With one wall of tall windows, the afternoon sun shone upon the few tables near the bar, spotlighting the mirror and rows of high-end liquor bottles. Most of the stools were unoccupied. The farther rooms had other tables as well as casual seating arrangements made up of plush sofas, chairs, and large round ottoman coffee tables. In the center of all the rooms was a grand piano, where live music was performed Thursday through Saturday nights.

  The nearly barren state of the rooms wouldn’t last. Daytime wasn’t Club Regal’s main hours of operation. Members who worked nearby the club often patronized the restaurant at lunchtime. However, Bar Regal picked up in pace later in the day. This may not have been how it was decades ago. I for one was happy that the two-martini lunch was no longer in vogue.

  The reason I’d come inside—the man who had caught my attention—was sitting at the bar with his back to me as I entered. With his head down staring at his phone, he appeared to be nursing either straight vodka or a clear soda pop. As I neared, the bubbles moving up the inside of the glass revealed that whatever was inside was carbonated, ruling out vodka.

  Settling on a nearby barstool, I scanned Mr. Leonardo’s face in the large mirror over the bar. From his complexion, I would venture to guess he was in his upper forties to low fifties, had seen his share of the outdoors and had the weathered skin to prove it. While I wouldn’t categorize him as overweight, even in his suit, I could tell that he had a few more pounds around the middle than I. His attire was above standard for this club. While his suit wasn’t custom, it wasn’t off the rack from some big box store either.

  Whoever Mitchell Leonardo was, he had access to finances.

  The bartender came toward me with a smile. “Mr. Kelly, what can I get you?”

  While she was wearing a nametag, I didn’t need to read it. Tina had been working at Club Regal for at least five years. Private clubs appreciated employees who understood the nuances of the job. It wasn’t like it was put in writing what to say and what not to say, but it was more than implied. When that valuable employee was found, he or she was paid well to stay in the position.

  “Tina, I’d like water.”

  “On the rocks?” she asked with a grin.

  “Yes, that would be good.”

  Mr. Leonardo lifted his chin as he watched Tina walk away. “She’s a looker.”

  His observation left me unsettled, but if it was an opening for conversation, I’d take it. “Hmm.”

  The reality was that Tina wasn’t my type.

  Thoughts of Madeline infiltrated my thinking.

  For someone I’d tried for years to remove from my thoughts—tried to forget—after only one night, less than twenty-four hours, I was suddenly consumed, addicted. Her beauty, soft skin, sweet aroma, and the melody of her voice ricocheted through my thoughts since seeing her at the poker table last night. Now, since being with her, it was difficult to concentrate on anything else.

  However, my job required it.

  I focused on the man to my left, careful not to let on that I knew much about him. “I think I saw you last night.” We both maintained the unspoken etiquette of staring straight ahead, our only visual contact being within the mirror’s reflection. “Are you new to Chicago?” I asked.

  While knowing Mr. Leonardo was somehow associated with Madeline spurred my decision to enter the bar, my gut told me there was more to him. Something felt off. My allegiance to Sparrow wouldn’t allow me to walk away.

  “Passing through,” he said.

  “I believe you were watching the tournament last night. Are you a card player?”

  “Nah. My passion is the ponies.”

  “Cards are easier to predict,” I said. “Too many variables with horse racing.”

  The big man shrugged as he lifted his glass. “Not if you do your homework.”

  “Here you go,” Tina said with a smile as she placed the glass of water before me. “May I get you anything else?”

  “No, thank you. I need to be going soon.” I returned to talking to the man. “If you’re not a player, what brings you to the tournament?”

  “This and that. I’m pulling for one of the players.”

  “A friend?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  The way Madeline spoke to him in the hallway last
evening, I wouldn’t have categorized them as friends.

  “So that’s all you’re doing is attending the tournament and then you will be gone?” I pushed.

  Leonardo turned my way. “Excuse me. What’s it to you?” His eyes had darkened circles beneath, giving him the appearance of being tired or distressed.

  “As a member of this club, I like to keep track of who comes and goes. As a resident of this city, I do the same. It’s part of what I do. As long as you’re only here for the tournament, we should be good.”

  “This chat is over.” His face tilted upward as his gaze went to the doorway. “My friend is here. I believe we’ll be going.”

  When I turned to follow his gaze, my breath caught in my chest.

  Our eyes locked.

  I’d heard about tunnel vision before and seen it portrayed in movies. The fringes became fuzzy and blurred and all that could be seen was the one person in the center. I’d heard of it. I’d never before recalled experiencing it, not until this moment.

  A goddess wrapped in a long wool coat, Madeline was stunning.

  There was no doubt that she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She had been nearly twenty years ago, and she was more so today. Pink filled her cheeks as her stance straightened. Pulling her gaze away from me she focused on Leonardo.

  The loss of her stare felt like the jolt of a freezing shower, cooling my skin as if the light of the sun had been switched off.

  “Mitchell,” she said, her tone aloof. “I’m almost done. If Veronica returns, tell her I’m indisposed for the moment and will return.”

  My intel was correct. Mitchell was Mitchell Leonardo.

  I made a mental reminder to learn more.

  Madeline didn’t wait for Mitchell’s response before turning back toward the foyer and disappearing beyond the walls.

  “Damn women,” Leonardo muttered.

  His tone triggered the small hairs on my neck to bristle. “Is there a problem?”

  “Better not be.”

  I reached into my pocket and removed a money clip. Pulling a ten-dollar bill from the clip, I laid it upon the bar near my water. No, it didn’t cost ten dollars for water. In reality it was free. “Thank you, Tina,” I said with a nod. “I will see you this evening.”

  “Thank you,” she said, gathering the glass and her tip. “It won’t be me. I’ll be home with the family.”

  “Lucky you.” With that I exited the bar. To my right were the doors leading me to the street. It was the direction I should go. I didn’t.

  The ladies’ room wasn’t as far away on the first floor as it had been on the second. And unlike upstairs, it wasn’t as secluded. My gaze went this way and that as I made my way closer to where I believed Madeline had gone. With each step, my heart beat faster as anticipation for the future combined with memories of last night.

  My need was palpable, gnawing at my nerves until my fingers itched to touch her, my lips ached to kiss her, and my arms flexed to hold her.

  My desire was to see her alone, if only for a moment. While my body had its own set of goals, my mind wanted something simpler, yet at the same time more difficult to accomplish. I would take this opportunity to try to explain that I was suddenly in the tournament. While I couldn’t divulge the real reason—that I was part of Sparrow and we were concerned about Antonio Hillman’s reappearance—I could at least warn her of my impending presence.

  Thankfully, due to the time of day, like the whole of the club, the hallways were mostly empty. They were completely empty on the way to the ladies’ room. I hadn’t passed a soul. At the door, I hesitated. I could wait outside as I’d done last night. However, if I did and we spoke in the hallway, there was always the chance Mitchell would come looking for her.

  Taking the chance that Madeline was alone and the only occupant of the ladies’ room, I slowly pushed the door inward and peered inside.

  She didn’t notice me at first. With the length of her coat covering her body, her hands had a death grip upon the vanity’s edge. Not looking in the mirror, I believed her eyes were shut as her head tilted down. Her silky long dark ponytail cascaded down her back.

  A quick glance under the stalls told me what I wanted to know.

  We were alone.

  Turning toward the hallway door, I twisted the deadbolt, assuring we wouldn’t be disturbed. As the mechanism clicked, Madeline’s chin snapped up, and her gaze came my way through the reflection. Immediately she spun toward me.

  I don’t know what I expected to see, but it wasn’t what I saw.

  Hurt, anger, and maybe even rage radiated from her green eyes as Madeline stared my direction.

  My mind tried to make rhyme or reason out of her misplaced emotion. While I contemplated the cause, she placed her hands on her hips.

  “You son of a bitch. You have some nerve following me in here.”

  Madeline

  As Patrick’s blue eyes swirled with uncertainty, I stood taller. Though my array of emotions threatened my facade, my voice came out determined and hushed. “Say something.”

  Patrick stood silent, taking me in, scanning me from my tied-back hair to my high-heeled boots. With each passing second, his head shook. Finally, he came closer, step by step, his loafers tapping across the tile floor.

  Dressed again in an expensive suit with a crisp white shirt, today he was also wearing a tie. Silver in color, it was similar to the dress I’d worn last night. Peering from beneath the cuffs of his suit jacket, black onyx cufflinks shimmered under the harsh bathroom lights. The closer he came, the more the aroma of his spicy cologne filled my senses as the sky blue of his eyes zeroed in on me.

  Fuck him.

  Last night, I listened to my desires. I’d let my body make decisions. Today my head was in control. Today I had more at stake.

  “Madeline, I’m sorry I left you. I needed—”

  My palm swung forward.

  Patrick reared backward as my hand collided with his cheek and the sound of a slap echoed against the walls.

  Before I could retrieve it, my wrist was seized. “What the hell, Madeline?”

  “I should have known,” I said, freeing his grasp of me. “I should have known you didn’t come to my room last night for me.” I took a step back and did a slow spin.

  “What are you talking about?”

  I began speaking as soon as our eyes again met. “I’m just curious, have you already cashed in my chips? Forty thousand will be a nice addition to your play tonight.”

  “You know about me playing?” he asked. “How do you know that? I just...” His handsome face tilted. “What were you saying about your chips?”

  “As if you don’t know.” I took a deep breath. “Get out of my way, Patrick. You were right that we never divorced. We will rectify that as soon as possible. I don’t know why it was never done,” I said. “Maybe in the back of my mind I wanted to have the illusion that there was still one man in the world who cared for me, even if it was a long time ago. Maybe I wanted the memory of someone trustworthy and honorable.” I stood taller. “I suppose I should thank you for the reality check.”

  He stepped closer, reaching for my upper arms. Even through the coat and sweater, his grasp tightened as our eyes stayed fixed. His deep tone reverberated. “I have no idea why you are so upset. I don’t know a damn thing about your chips. How the hell would I? And, Madeline, you’re right; I’m not a good man. I never claimed to be. Not when we were stealing food and picking pockets and sure as hell not now. I do things I’d never want you to know. I am, however, trustworthy and honorable to those I care for.”

  I looked from side to side at his large hands holding on to either arm. I wanted to tell him what I’d told Mitchell. I wanted to say not to touch me. Wanting to say it and meaning it were not the same thing.

  I pushed the words away. Instead, I looked back up at his blue eyes and repeated what he’d said. “People you care for...was I ever one of those? I mean, I get that I’m not now. I don’t deser
ve to be. But tell me, was I?”

  His grip tightened as he pulled me closer, my boots stuttering over the tile until our bodies became flush.

  It was probably the long winter coat, but damn, the temperature was rising.

  I concentrated on the most important thing: this man stole from me. I lifted my chin. “Was I?” I asked again.

  “Do you need to ask?”

  “I thought—”

  My sentence disappeared, swallowed as his lips took mine.

  Such as it had been last night, the connection was instantaneous. With only a kiss, like a spark to my dry soul, Patrick ignited a flame inside me. In mere seconds, he took my words, my thoughts, and my breath...

  I longed to lean toward him, to give.

  No.

  No.

  It was too late for that.

  Along with my handbag, Patrick had taken my trust.

  I pulled away, breaking his grasp. My neck straightened as I worked to recreate the mask I wore during play, the one I wore with Andros and others in the Ivanov bratva, the one of indifference. “I don’t know what you know about me, the me I am today,” I clarified. “I don’t know how or why I became your mark, but let me say that it won’t happen again. I will win tonight, tomorrow afternoon, and Saturday night. The winnings and the jackpot will be mine. I will do that because I have no other option.”

  “Maddie, I’m sorry. I can’t say much. I can’t make any of this make sense or explain the whys. Just trust me that there is more happening here than you know. When the tournament ends, you won’t be the champion.”

  “You bought in. Is that what you can’t say?”

  “You knew that. That’s what you’d said,” Patrick replied. “Besides, my presence in the tournament wouldn’t have been a secret for long. Tonight you would have seen me. When our paths crossed this afternoon, I followed you to warn you and explain.”

  “Explain what, Patrick? Explain that you want to stop me from doing what I do, what I do to live and survive. Why? Do you hate me for not returning years ago? Is this revenge?”