Fold or Call

Lily's POV

Twenty-two years old today.

The VIP floor of Black's Casino is packed. Crystal chandeliers hang overhead, throwing diamonds of light across Vegas's elite crowd. I'm wearing red—the backless dress Damien hates. He says it's too loud, too obvious.

That's exactly why I wear it when I want to piss him off.

"Happy birthday, Lily."

His voice comes from behind, low and rough in a way that makes my spine tingle.

I turn. He's standing there in his three-piece suit, every line sharp and perfect. Those gray-blue eyes watching me like I'm a problem he needs to solve.

He's holding a velvet box.

"For my sister." He emphasizes the word sister like it's armor. "A birthday gift."

I take the box and open it.

Diamond necklace. Has to be worth at least a million.

"It's gorgeous." I meet his eyes, let my mouth curve just a little. "Too bad I don't want to be your sister."

His jaw tightens. "Lily—"

"Damien, come meet Sophia." Some woman's voice cuts in.

Blonde. Blue eyes. Curves in all the right places. She's latched onto Damien's arm like she owns it.

Here we go again.

How many "girlfriends" has it been this month?

"Lily, this is Sophia." Damien's doing the introduction thing. "Sophia, this is Lily, my—"

"Sister." I finish for him, already extending my hand with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

Sophia's handshake is weak. Soft palm, no pressure.

Model hands.

Or maybe actress hands.

"Damien mentioned you work at the casino?" Her voice is sugar-sweet, the kind that gives you cavities.

"Consultant." I keep it short. "What about you? What do you do?"

"Oh, I'm... well, I do some modeling work, and also..." She glances at Damien. Her eyes are screaming for help.

Amateur.

Can't even remember her lines.

I look at Damien. His face is blank, but I catch the tell—his fingers turning that ring on his fourth finger.

He only does that when he's nervous.

"How about we play a game?" I say it suddenly.

"What?" Damien's frowning now.

"Texas Hold'em." I nod toward the VIP table across the room. "It's my birthday. Should be some fun, right?"

"Lily, don't start—"

"I'll bet," I cut him off, looking straight into those eyes, "if you win, I'll never say I love you again."

The air freezes.

Everyone around us is pretending they didn't hear that. But I know they're all listening. The whole upper circle knows I've been chasing my stepbrother.

"And if I win," I continue, enjoying the flash of panic on his face, "you admit Sophia's fake."

"Lily—" Sophia tries to speak.

"What's wrong?" I turn to her. "Scared to bet? Or maybe... you don't even know how to play Texas Hold'em?"

Red floods Sophia's face.

Damien takes a deep breath. "Fine. I'm in."

Five minutes later, we're sitting across from each other at the table.

Tony's dealing. He's worked here for ten years, knows me since I was a kid.

"Simple rules." I lean back in my chair. "One hand decides everything. One million in chips."

Damien pulls Sophia down to sit beside him.

"Baby, help me read the cards." His voice drips with fake affection, but his eyes keep sliding my way.

I almost laugh out loud.

Terrible acting.

Hole cards come down. I peek—King and Queen of hearts.

Not bad to start.

Flop hits: Jack of hearts, Ten of spades, Two of clubs.

I push twenty thousand forward.

Damien calls.

Sophia's whispering something in his ear. He nods.

But I see it—the way her eyes drift, the way her fingers keep messing with her hair.

She doesn't know shit about poker.

Turn card: Ace of hearts.

My pulse kicks up.

Straight flush possible.

I bet thirty thousand.

Damien looks up, his stare sharp.

He's reading my face, the way he taught me to read everyone else when I was a kid.

But I learned how to hide from him the year I turned sixteen. The year I first beat him.

"Raise." Damien shoves chips forward. "Fifty thousand."

Sophia gasps.

"Damien, isn't that too much—"

"Trust me." He doesn't take his eyes off mine.

I smile. "Call."

River card: Ten of hearts.

My straight flush is complete.

Ace-King-Queen-Jack-Ten. All hearts.

"All in." I push every chip to the center.

Damien stares at the table. His fingers tap the edge.

That's his thinking tell.

"Damien, maybe we should—" Sophia starts again.

"Fold or call?" I interrupt her, watching Damien. "Or do you need your 'girlfriend' to decide for you?"

His jaw clenches.

"Call." He flips his cards—pocket aces.

Good. But not good enough.

I turn over my hand.

"Straight flush," Tony announces. "Lily wins."

Applause breaks out.

I stand up, pull a document from my clutch, and toss it on the table.

"Sophia Greene. Elite Models Agency." I read off the page. "Employment contract. Two weeks. Ten thousand dollars compensation. Client name—"

"Enough." Damien's on his feet, his face like stone.

Sophia looks like she might pass out.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, grabbing her purse and running for the exit.

I gather my chips, turn to Damien with a smile.

"Looks like I can keep loving you."

Damien's phone buzzes.

He checks the screen. Something changes in his face—color draining, jaw going tight.

"I have to go." He doesn't even look at me.

"Damien—"

But he's already walking away, phone pressed to his ear.

I catch fragments: "stock price," "short selling," "twenty percent."

My stomach drops.

Company trouble again?

I'm standing there by the table, watching the elevator doors close on him.

The guests are starting to murmur.

"Lily."

Marcus's voice comes from behind.

I turn. He's in a light gray suit, holding two champagne flutes.

"Hell of a show." He offers me a glass. "But you really think humiliating him is going to make him come around?"

"I wasn't humiliating him." I take the champagne. "I was telling the truth."

Marcus laughs. "Damien's never going to give you what you want." He moves closer. "But I can."

I study his eyes. The smugness there is practically overflowing.

I can see it.

"Thanks for the concern." I raise my glass. "But I can handle my own shit."

I walk away, stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the glittering Strip below.

When I spot that familiar silhouette leaving the building, I take a sip of champagne and narrow my eyes.