Chapter 3

The air in the penthouse game room had grown thick, heavy with the scent of expensive whiskey, cedar, and the electric hum of adrenaline that still prickled beneath my skin. The other guests had scattered to the terrace or the adjacent lounge, their murmurs fading into the background like a distant radio static. I was alone for only a moment, standing by the velvet ropes that separated the high-roller’s table from the rest of the opulent space, my heart still hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I had won the hand. I had outplayed him. But as I looked up, catching his eye across the dimly lit expanse, I knew I had lost something far more valuable than chips. He moved toward me with that predatory grace he seemed to wear like a tailored suit. Julian. The name tasted like smoke on my tongue. He didn’t speak immediately, just watched me, his dark eyes devouring every micro-expression I tried to hide. I felt exposed, stripped bare despite the sleek black silk of my dress clinging to my curves. I tried to turn, to find an excuse, to escape the gravity of his gaze, but my feet felt rooted to