Chapter 38: A poker match

POV: Beatrice

Everyone obeyed him, including Paola. At the moment I looked away from Stefano for Paola, I saw her dissatisfied face, but at the same time, I saw the smile of someone who was anxious to know what Stefano would do to me after I had disobeyed him before walking away among the others.

When I looked back at Stefano, his fingers were clutching my forearm, dragging me lightly and throwing my body against the wall, not hurting me despite the momentary pain I felt from the impact.

"Tell me what you're doing here, Ragazza?" He shouted without coming any closer to me, not wanting to lose his control, even though I felt his eyes wanting to descend onto my body.

"Your men are foolish enough to think I'm more important than Giovanni; after all, I'm his protégé, aren't I?" I said it as harshly as the man in front of me, who heard me but acted as if I hadn't said anything.

He picked up his cell phone as I spoke, his fingers typing in Giovanni's number, which was probably in there somewhere, and of course his phone's encryption was good enough to never be traced.

"Are you afraid that people will find out who I really am?" I asked, trying to get his attention so that he wouldn't keep dialing his consigliere to get me out of there. I needed to find a way, and fast, to make Stefano stop. "All right, I'll go." I said, and that was enough for him to raise his eyes at me at the same time as Giovanni answered. He remained silent, despite his man asking him to speak. "But first, I want a match between the two of us, if I win, let me stay and do what I want. I won't tell anyone who I am or about Davide." I continued.

He stared at me for several seconds, my heart racing a little, aware that he was good, aware that I could lose, and then I'd be at Stefano's mercy.

His fingers pressed the button that disconnected the call, finally accepting my challenge and our dispute that we had set up the day we met but never concluded until now. It was about time we played out who was the best of us.

Stefano put his cell phone away in his pocket before choosing his seat, the same one he was in seconds ago. I sat right in front of him, our eyes locked as he deftly slid the cards across the polished wooden table.

The room was permeated with the muffled sound of chips being stacked, and as the cards were dealt by the man in front of me, our facial expressions became increasingly neutral, hiding any hint of what might be in each other's hands. Bluffing was a powerful weapon, and there I realized that we were masters of this art.

As the rounds progressed, the stakes increased and the pile of chips in the center of the table grew. Each of us tried to read the other, to anticipate the moves and the hidden strategies. It was a duel of wits, skill and full-bloodedness, even though I was sure I had never faced an opponent like him—worse than Alisha, who had taught me every trick in the book.

The minutes dragged by, and the cards revealed in the center of the table formed complex combinations, until finally, in the last move, I slid my last chip into the center of the table and revealed my game.

And then, with a triumphant smile, I raised my head, looking straight into Stefano's eyes, who seemed to refuse to acknowledge defeat, locking his jaw. I had won, despite all of Stefano's ego and confidence. His words that day in the bar had become empty because now there was a winner between the two of us, and it was me.

"It looks like we have a winner." I said, watching Stefano run his fingers through his hair in a failed attempt not to show the frustration coursing through his blood. "Aren't you going to buy me a drink this time?" I asked, teasing him and reminding him of what we did that day, even though neither of us had forgotten. I looked away, unable to watch him. "Well, good luck with Paola then, don."

I walked away with a broad smile. I had just proved to Stefano that he wasn't unbeatable, thus bruising his ego and leaving me more excited, euphoric and liberated. I could do whatever I wanted, that was the deal. My body was no longer fully responding to me, thanks to the fact that there was nothing in my stomach. I grabbed a snack and then took another sip of something alcoholic.

The music started to get too interesting, and so did the people. A man bumped into me, he didn't look familiar, and his accent was even stranger, but that was all behind me when I noticed his charm. Dark eyes, brown hair, a firm, correct posture and pure evil in his gaze. I didn't apologize, it wasn't necessary, as the smile on his lips was accompanied by his eyes roaming over my body. He didn't know I'd been with Stefano that night.

My eyes wanted to wander to the back of the room and look for my son's father, forgetting that he couldn't do anything, but I forced myself not to, letting myself forget his dark, annoying, perfectly chiseled, seductive figure... Shit!

"You are wanting to dance with me?" I asked, noticing his body stiffen, his smile fade, and his eyes transform into something fulminating, as if my question had crossed an invisible threshold. His expression hardened, and I seemed to have touched something deep, something that awakened the beast.

"Who do you think you are to extend any invitation to me?" He spoke loudly and fiercely enough to overpower the sound of the music. The man in front of me grabbed one of my two arms with all his strength, dragging me to the nearest wall.

"I'm going to fuck you and then deliver you into the hands of my soldiers until you understand what your role in society is, darling."

"Let me go." I ordered it as if it would solve something. "I understand that the mere idea of me, a woman, daring to ask you to dance challenges your fragile notion of masculinity." I continued, giving up on pulling on my arm and lifting one of my legs to give him a perfect kick between the legs, which made him groan and let go of me momentarily. "Male chauvinist." I said last, looking at him in a slightly bent position.

Just when I thought he couldn't do anything else, his body rose, albeit with difficulty.

"Bitch!" I heard him say this before I saw his hands rise to hit me, aware that there was no escape from there.

Before I could think of anything to defend myself, I saw a large, strong figure grab the wrist of the man in front of me, and I didn't need anything else to know who it was. Stefano was there to defend me.