I could anticipate the next assholeish thing I was going to say, only I couldn’t stop myself from opening my mouth and vomiting the hurtful words. They were sharp and caustic and not at all the way I felt. The only thing I could envision was Natalie all over again and the certain agony I would feel at Alyse’s betrayal.
Alyse is not Natalie.
Free the chains.
Fuck.
“Hey, asshole. You in or not?” Conn asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I snip.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve taken you five out of the last six hands and three of those you should have won. Head in the game, brother, or I’ll clean you out.”
Damn Conn. He’s right. “You can try.”
I’m down five hundred already tonight, so at the rate I’m going, it actually won’t take him long to take the rest. Shit, I should just hand it over and be done so I can go grovel at the feet of the woman who’s been ignoring my calls and text messages all damn evening. By the time the red haze faded so I could actually think clearly, Alyse had already left for the day. I haven’t seen her since I was the Prince of all Jackasses walking out of her office while spouting some bullshit that was completely untrue.
I trust Alyse. I just don’t trust anyone with a dick to get within ten feet of her. She has no fucking idea the innate magnetism she exudes. She draws people to her without even trying. I don’t know if it’s her inner beauty or some goddamn scent she emits or the shimmery aura surrounding her that everyone unconsciously sees, but whatever it is, people are powerless to resist.
Especially men.
“You start, Ash.” Conn is leaning back in his chair. By the smirk on his face, he’s clearly enjoying watching my inner turmoil.
Without a word, I throw in a twenty-five-dollar chip before Conn deals the next hand.
We play our regular Thursday poker games with two of our board members, Graham Billowy and Marcus Hemsley, and our Vice President of Security, Carey Christensen.
I usually enjoy our Thursday nights. I rarely skip, unless I’m traveling for business. Whenever I’m in town, I make it a priority to attend. Except these last few weeks the only thing I’ve wanted to do is spend my Thursday evening with Alyse instead. I want to spend every single free minute with her. Now I understand why Gray bailed on us. Until he reunited with Livia, he was our sixth.
After the flop, I throw in another twenty-five.
“Shit luck on the Willow acquisition,” Graham says, chewing on his cinnamon toothpick. Outside of board meetings, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen the guy without a piece of wood in his mouth. He has to have splinters lining his entire GI tract.
“Better we find out now,” I reply brusquely. I really don’t want to discuss business. I don’t want make idle chitchat about anything, actually. I just want to be buried inside Alyse, whispering my apologies until she forgives me.
When the turn comes, I look at my pocket aces and up the bet to a hundred. I’ve already lost five hundred tonight. The maximum I let myself lose in an evening is a grand, and with the way I’m carelessly throwing money into the pot, maybe this will be my last hand. One can only hope. I risk a look up at Conn to see him smiling and shaking his head at my bet. He knows exactly what I’m doing.
“By the way, I think I’m in love,” Carey quips, calling my bet.
“What else is new?” Conn replies, also calling. Carey is thirty-five and divorced and, at five feet nine inches, is probably about thirty pounds overweight.
“No, this time I mean it. She’s absolutely stunning. I think it was love at first sight.”
I’ve lost count at how many times he’s sat here telling us he was ‘in love.’
“Have you even talked to her this time or are you just stalking her?” I ask. Carey is a great guy. Smart. Loyal. And a heart as big and deep as the ocean, but because his wife left him for another man, he lacks confidence. Hell, that’s probably why she left him in the first place, so he has a very difficult time actually approaching women. He tends to stalk them from afar instead. It’s actually kinda creepy. Will probably land him in jail someday.
Once the river is laid, I see I have three of a kind, so I throw in another hundred-dollar chip. This time Conn laughs out loud.
Fucker.
“No. I talked to her. Bumped into her in the cafeteria earlier this week actually. She’s working on some sort of short-term project for CFC, but wouldn’t say what.”
My head snaps to my left, which is where Carey is sitting. In about sixty seconds, he’s gonna wish he was sitting across from me instead, because at this angle, it would be all too easy to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the ever-lovin’ life right out of his pudgy little body. I feel the haze that clouded my vision and judgment earlier return with sweet vengeance.