“Youaremy stepbrother,” I remind him. Okay, maybe I should have thought it over during the interaction. I just had to go and make things awkward for everyone. I shake my head, unwilling to focus on that when I may or may not have Nico for just the duration of this trip. I’m scared that all this will be over once the trip comes to an end. No, I’m not wasting what little time we have obsessing over it, so I push it all aside and turn to Nico. “Are you any good at gambling?”
His brows shoot to his hairline. “Where is this coming from?”
“This is my first time somewhere like this, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. I want to play some games.” I pause.
“You don’t want to look around at the art?”
I glance around the room, its white walls are filled with paintings of all kinds. This is my world, one I revel in, and I’ll always have art. I won’t always have Nico. “Not right now. The exhibition will be happening tonight,” I say with a shrug. “I want to explore the casino and play some games. Let’s have some funbefore then. But maybe not out on the floor. Let’s take this back to our room.”
He stares at me long enough to have me blushing before a smile forms on his mouth. “I don’t gamble, but I’m good with games,” he says with a confident smirk. “I’ve even beaten Dante in some of the games we play.”
My eyes narrow suspiciously at his words. All my brothers are talented in different ways, but Dante is different in that he’s very street smart and knows how to read people. Even I am not blind in love enough to believe Nico’s skill beats Dante’s. There’s no way. Nico must read the doubt on my face because he laughs.
“I guess I’ll have to prove myself.”
“Not even Matteo has beaten Dante.”
“I’m better than Matteo,” he chuckles, squeezing my hand before dragging me out of the hall. “How about we start with blackjack. With every game I win…” he stops to run his eyes over me in a way that lights my skin on fire. “I don’t care about the money so with every win, you lose an article of clothing.”
“What?”
“Unless you’re willing to admit I’m better at games than your brothers.”
My eyes fire up with challenge. Casino games are rigged for people to lose money anyway. There’s no way he’s going to win more than one game. “I bet at the end of the day, the only thing I’ll lose is the sweater.”
“I’ll get the cards,” he says, and the slow smile that spreads across his face does things to my heartbeat.
He leads me toward the hotel gift shop, and I wait for him at the entrance. I feel a prickling sensation on the back of myneck, almost like someone’s watching me. I turn around, looking around, but I come up empty.
Did I imagine it?
I shake my head and turn to Nico but the feeling stays. I watch him lay a deck of cards on the counter and pay without a word. He seems focused on something outside the small shop, so I turn to see what’s caught his attention. I don’t see anything, so maybe he’s just planning what he’s going to do when we get back to the room.
He returns to my side, his hand finding mine as we start walking. In the elevator, he leans against the wall and watches me with that quiet, intent expression I’ve started to recognize—the one that makes me feel like the only thing in the room worth looking at.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asks.
“I’m sure you’re going to lose,” I say.
He laughs, low and genuine, and I think it might be my new favorite sound.
***
He doesn’t lose.
He wins the first hand easily, which I chalk up to beginner’s luck on his part and overconfidence on mine. He wins the second, and the third, stacking his small collection of chips—we used the complimentary chocolates from the pillow as stakes—while I try not to notice the way his eyes drop to the hem of my sweater every time I surrender a card.
“I believe,” he says after the fourth hand, leaning back against the headboard with the satisfaction of a man who has never once doubted himself, “that I’ve earned the sweater.”
I strip it off without much protest.
He wins the next hand before I’ve finished shuffling.
“Nico—”
“Gabriella,” he says pleasantly.
By the time he wins his fifth straight hand, I have run entirely out of options and patience. “You cheated,” I tell him.