39

Stefano

The beauty in my arms—well, not quite in my arms, more at my mercy—meets my gaze with courage.

I see neither fear nor defiance in the bright blue eyes, merely bald curiosity, almost a hint of fascination.

Likewise, bella.

I picked her table for a reason, and it wasn’t because anyone suspected her of cheating. Quite the opposite. The floor manager says she always attracts a crowd of gentlemen, earns big tips. She’s fast and showy, exuding just the right balance of cool professional and warm invitation in any game she deals. I tested her because we need a dealer for private games upstairs.

Now, though, I want to play all kinds of private games with her and none of them involve a deck of cards or a roulette wheel.

“I don’t like being humiliated,” she says. For a moment, I think she’s speaking to my thoughts, and then I realize it’s her justification for trying to slap me. She turns her wrist in my hand, attempting to get free.

I don’t allow it, pulling her small hand up to my mou