Gambling with Gabriella (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing For Love Book 2) (8 page)

O
kay
, I confess. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy to know that Carter and Dominic are watching out for me. Carter’s questions about Sammy and the night of the big poker loss should irritate me, but I just feel protected and safe.

This is bad. I’m a gambler, sure, but even for me the idea of trusting two men, men I barely know, feels risky and reckless.

I haven’t brought anything formal to wear with me, but I do the best I can, pulling out a turquoise silk blouse and my most flattering pair of jeans and taking special care with my makeup. Carter’s eyes heat up when he sees me, and he growls in his throat. “I’m tempted to rip your clothes off and feast on you,” he says.

“What about Dominic?” I ask, then immediately regret it. I don’t know what the expectations of a threesome are, but asking Carter what the rules are makes this a more serious conversation than I’m prepared to have. Whether I have the money for Sammy or not, I have to leave Atlantic City at the end of the week. What’s the point of wondering whether Carter will consider it cheating if I have sex with Dominic when he’s not around, or vice versa?

He shrugs. “I don’t know all the answers, Gabby,” he says honestly. “This is new to me too. This is the first time either Dominic or I ever wanted something more out of a threesome than just sex. But we are three adults who are rational most of the time, right? I assume we can figure it out.”

This is the first time I’ve ever wanted something more…
I don’t know what to do with his words, so I avoid thinking about them, smiling brightly at him instead. “Shall we? Somewhere out there, there’s a plate of kung pao chicken calling me, and I want to find it and put it out of its misery.”

He gives me a knowing look - my changing of the subject has been noticed. But he links his hand in mine without any further comment, and we take the elevator downstairs.

T
he two of
us decide by mutual consent to try the Chinese restaurant in the casino downstairs. To be honest, I don’t have any capacity to think about where to eat dinner. I've tried to hide my stress from Carter, but I am incredibly nervous about this whole situation.

Last night, I was convinced that Bulldog would want me back so that his regulars could win back some of the money they lost to me. But as the day ticks on and Bulldog doesn’t call, my nerves have frayed to the point where I’m constantly looking at my phone, worrying about whether I’d been wrong in my diagnosis.

If Carter notices, he doesn't let on. I sneak a glance at him as we ride in the elevator. He’s so broad and strong. I feel safe around him.

Both Carter, with his promise that he’d make inquiries into Saturday night, and Dominic, with his insistence that I stay somewhere safe, have made me realize that my relationships in New York were woefully inadequate. All my boyfriends, such as they were, were only interested in sex, in going and checking out the latest restaurants and being seen at the trendiest clubs. What they didn’t demonstrate was a willingness to be involved in my life. Asking me how my work day was? That never happened. Showing me I could depend on them? Yeah, Vinny couldn’t even keep it in his pants.

It makes me realize that the criteria I use to find boyfriends needs some updating. I don’t trust that Carter and Dominic are around for the long haul. But at some point in the future, I will decide to date again. When I do, I promise myself that I will look for the kind of care and concern that the two of them have demonstrated to me since I’ve come to Atlantic City.

The hostess at the entrance of the Red Dragon recognizes Carter immediately, of course. “A table for two, Mr. Hughes? she asks deferentially. “It’ll just be a minute.”

“Thank you, Allison,” he responds.

She’s very pretty and she’s very thin. I’m trying to ignore my insecurities when I hear a voice shout out my name. “Gabriella!”

I turn around and recognize Xavier Garcia, one of my least favorite clients. Xavier is a former European soccer player who recently moved to New York to play Major League Soccer, because he didn’t have the consistency and talent to stay in the much more lucrative Spanish clubs. He’s on my dislike list because he just cannot take no for an answer. He persists in hitting on me every time I see him. It’s tiring, to say the least. Because he’s a client and I’m a lowly PR rep, I can’t even knee him in the groin like I want to. All I can do is rebuff his advances politely and hope he eventually gets the message.

He comes up to me and kisses me on my cheeks, holding me just a little too close for a little too long. I can smell the alcohol on him - he’s been drinking. I stiffen in his arms, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Carter clench his fists.
Shit
. I really like my job, and I’d like to keep it, drunk client or not.

I disentangle myself from Xavier’s octopus-like grip, but even as I think I’ve managed to escape, he puts an arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. “Gabriella,” he slurs. “Keep me company. This place is so boring,
mi amorcito.”

I roll my eyes.
My love
, he’s called me, even though he’s married, with a young son and another child on the way. I’ve even met his wife. Not for the first time, I silently wonder how she manages to turn a blind eye to her husband’s many indiscretions.

Carter goes very still. I’m praying that Xavier backs away before he does something stupid. I don’t want this to turn into a pissing match between the two men, because in a contest between Carter and Xavier, my money’s on Carter.

No such luck. Xavier plants his wet, slobbery lips on mine, prodding his fat tongue at my lips to try and find a gap, and as I’ve been dreading, Carter intervenes. I see one hand come up to Xavier’s shoulder and in the blink of an eye, Xavier’s on his butt on the floor, blinking up at us. His face darkens with a mixture of anger and confusion.
Shit.

“Xavier, is it?” Carter asks smoothly, with a pleasant smile on his face. He offers his arm to Xavier and helps him up to his feet. “The marble floors can get so slippery here.” He shakes his head sadly and turns to the hostess, who’s gaping at us. “Allison, please send for a cleaning staff at once to mop up the floors.”

“What?” Xavier gapes, but I’m relieved to see that he still sounds drunk. In the morning, when he’s recalling this incident, I hope the suggestion that Carter’s planted in his mind - that he slipped on a slick floor and fell to the ground - will be the one he remembers.

“You know my girlfriend Gabby?” Carter continues to ask, that same wide smile on his face.

“Xavier’s one of my clients,” I chime in. “Xavier, we were just going in for dinner. You want to join us?”

I know he’s going to say no. He blinks, his gaze pivoting back and forth between Carter and I. His alcohol-fogged, pea-sized brain is trying to make sense of this situation. I can see him register the word
girlfriend
, and he takes another look at Carter.

Sometimes, people can sense danger even if there’s no evidence suggesting it. Right now, even though Carter’s smiling at Xavier, his green eyes are icy. He’s warning Xavier to back off.

“No, no,” Xavier declines my offer. “Thank you.”

“See you back in Manhattan,” I say brightly. I get the sense that Xavier has finally received the message that his advances aren’t welcome. Not only that, but Carter’s handled the situation perfectly, taking advantage of Xavier’s obviously inebriated state to avoid an incident.

I feel protected, and my job is safe.
Damn it, Carter,
I think to myself.
Don’t make me believe in love again. Don’t make me hope.

“
I
can’t stand
possessive men,” I tell him when we are seated.

“Not possessive,” he contradicts me. “Protective. I’m not going to stand by and watch a man paw a woman when she clearly doesn’t want the attention.”

“He’s a client. I can get fired.”

He gives me an amused look. “Gabriella,” he says. He links his fingers to mine and brings my hand up to his lips, kissing my palm softly. “You and I both know that’s not going to happen.” His eyes remind me of a moss-covered rock in the early morning mist. “You are ours. We take care of our own.”

“I’m not a possession,” I snarl. I’m terrified of how nice it feels to have someone to rely on, someone to watch over me. “I’m not yours.”

“You are never a possession,” he agrees. “But you are ours, and we are yours. Both Dominic and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy. And before you get angry with me and protest, think about this. Aren’t you doing the same for me? You are putting yourself in danger to find Noah. Do you think the protection is one-sided?”

I don’t meet his eyes. “I’m just doing it for the money,” I lie. “I need to pay off Sammy.”

He laughs in my face. “Sure you are. Your parents would give you the money in a heartbeat if you ask them. But you keep telling yourself what you need to believe.”

It feels futile to glare at him, so I turn my attention to the menu instead. Right now, satisfying my craving for kung pao chicken seems a lot easier than dealing with Carter.

We both order. When the food arrives, I dig into it in silence. I’m still wary. I’ve been in Atlantic City for a little over a day. The moment I start having expectations of Dominic and Carter, they will disappoint me.

“We talked about you often,” Carter says out of the blue. There’s a note of regret in his voice. “So many times, we were tempted to find you.”

“Why didn’t you?” I ask before I can remember that I don’t care what his answer will be.

“You sneaked out of the hotel room,” he responds. “Through your actions, you made it clear that you didn’t want to be found. You had a right to leave.” He sighs heavily. “It didn’t mean that we didn’t want to find you.” His eyes meet mine. “Did you think about us? Did you think about that night?”

Images from that first night flash through my head, each memory steamier than the next. “All the time,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says. His lips twitch into a smile, but unlike his usual look of cockiness, he just looks sincere.

I soften and start to reply. But before I say something really stupid and emotional, I catch a glimpse of Dominic. He’s sitting a few tables away from us, and he’s having dinner with a beautiful blonde woman.

I freeze and I harden my heart. They told me to trust them, and I almost started to believe it. But less than six hours after he’d left my bed, Dominic is having dinner with someone else.

This is a familiar script, one I’ve read before. I had a twenty four hour reprieve, but in the end, my curse always strikes.

“
H
e’s suing you
,” Laura says to me. “He claims that he was unfairly fired.”

He
is a dealer called Jack Leland. Jack skimmed twenty grand from the casino before Carter noticed and busted him. We didn’t have enough proof to get him arrested, so I gave him a choice. Return the money and leave, and we’d call it quits.

Now the fucker’s filed a lawsuit. Idiot. And Laura, who is the manager at the Grand River, is in a tizzy.

“Relax,” I tell her. “Carter’s got a stack of dirt on this guy. He’ll take care of it.”

She’s still tense. Laura’s ambitious, and she’s worried that I’m going to take Jack Leland suing the casino as a sign that she screwed up. I’m about to say something to reassure her when I look up and notice Gabby and Carter eating dinner a few tables over. And Gabby’s staring right at me, and in her eyes, I see betrayal.

Only one way to cut this off. I lift my hand up in greeting, and Carter notices. He looks at Laura and at Gabby, and he puts it together. He leans forward and says something to Gabby, and she nods reluctantly before the two of them get up and come over.

I catch the eye of our waitress. “Could you put a couple of tables together for us, please? Mr. Hughes and Ms. Alves will be joining us for dinner.”

“Of course, Mr. Crawford,” she says. “Right away.”

The tables are moved before the two of them can thread their way through to us. I rise to greet Gabby, kissing her lightly on her lips. “Hey princess,” I smile at her. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She knows she’s read the situation wrong between Laura and me. Her lips draw into a rueful line. “I jumped to conclusions,” she says softly. Carter’s chatting with Laura, and neither of them can hear her.

“Laura’s the manager here,” I tell her quietly. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” she replies. She leans forward and kisses my cheek, and I can smell the jasmine and spice notes of her perfume. “I’m sorry.”

Squeezing her hand in reply, I gesture to her half-eaten meal, which the waitress has placed in front of her. “Dinner?”

She smiles, and for the first time, the wariness has left her eyes. “What a good idea.”

O
nce we’ve eaten
, Laura rises to leave. “It’s late,” she apologizes. “And I’ve been here since seven in the morning. My cat’s probably plotting to murder me right now.”

Gabby laughs. “It was lovely meeting you,” she says warmly. When Laura’s gone, she turns to us. “So I might need to be more trusting,” she says with a grimace.

“You can make it up to us,” Carter suggests with a shit-eating grin. “I’ve a thought about dessert, and it isn’t the green tea ice-cream that’s on my mind.”

She winks. “You’d prefer eating a different kind of cream?” she jokes. “I’m on board with that idea.”

I’m ready to get up and rush us back to her suite when her phone beeps. We all stiffen. She reads the message and her shoulders slump with relief. “It’s Bulldog,” she says. “He’s sent me an address.” Her eyes gleam with excitement as she looks at us. “I’m in.”