Rich pricks, I swear. Nowmypatience is starting to run thin. Even more, this is outright humiliating. Fuck his tip, if he'd even have any to give. No amount of money is worth being touched by this guy.
“Oh, she’s fine. You act like I’m holding her here against her will. We’re just having fun, aren’t we?” He looks at me, smirking. “Smile of an angel, this one.”
Reuben looks ready to call for security, but stops just as I feel the hairs on my arms lift.
It's like the temperature dropped ten degrees. Goosebumps lift on my skin, and just like before, I can feelhiseyes. This time, something feels off.
Then I breathe in and smell my favorite scent. The motor oil easily takes over whatever in the hell this guy is wearing.
I don't even have time to turn my head before a hand appears over my shoulder. Not reaching for me. Reaching for him.
Tattooed fingers wrap around the rich prick's forearm and squeeze hard enough to bruise.
Security would’ve tried to save face a little bit. Smoke isn’t even counted as staff, so he’s got nothing to lose.
The man's grip on my waist goes slack instantly—not because he wants to let go, but because his body is busy registering pain. His mouth opens, and a choked sound comes out.
I stumble back. My hip hits the edge of the table, and I almost cause the alcohol I delivered to spill. My heart is suddenly beating hard, both from my nerves kicking up and an undeniable excitement to see Smoke up close after all these hours apart.
I’ve never been rescued like this before. My stomach shouldn’t be getting filled with butterflies right now.
Looking his way, my heart leaps upward, and I feel my pulse racing in my throat.
He's not looking at me. His eyes are on the man at the table, and there's something in his face I've never seen before. Something dangerous.
He’s the physical version of the saying, ‘if looks could kill’.
The rich guy rips his arm free, cradling it against his chest like a wounded animal. His face is flushed, sweat beading on his upper lip. "What the fuck—who the hell do you think you are?"
Smoke doesn't answer right away. Instead, he smiles. It's not a nice smile. It's not the kind of smile you give someone you're about to do business with. It's the kind of smile that makes the man across from him flinch back.
Most would call his expression terrifying. Yet, I’m the outlier.
Right there, in the middle of the casino floor, with my back against a poker table and my heart trying to escape my chest, I swoon. Like some damsel in an old movie about to be rescued by her charming prince.
They never had leather vests or tattoos, as far as I can remember.
"Damage control," Smoke says. His voice is low, eerily calm. "I'm going to need you to leave."
The rich guy sputters. "I'm a guest here. I have every right—"
"You do." Smoke nods before his usual frown is back in place. "And I'm asking you politely. Walk away and find somewhere else to play. Because if I have to help you leave?" He squints, and I see his fingers curl. "I can't guarantee I'll be too happy once we're away from an audience."
The table is silent. Even the slot machines in the distance seem to hush as the air grows thick with his threat.
The rich guy's mouth opens and closes like he doesn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is a first for him. He's trying to look tough, but his hands are shaking. I can see it from here.
"You're making a mistake," he manages, but the words hold no weight behind them.
Who’d be smart enough to threaten a guy who looks like he hangs out in dark places during his free time?
Smoke raises an eyebrow as well, waiting for him to say something that would give him a reason to act beyond just words.
The man shoves back from the table so hard his chair scrapes the floor. He points a finger at Smoke, which wobbles at the tip. "This isn't over."
Yet, he's already walking away. Stomping, really, like a spoiled brat getting his toy taken away. His expensive shoes make angry little sounds against the carpet as he disappears between the rows of slot machines, muttering something no one bothers to hear.
Reuben exhales slowly. He looks between Smoke and me, then back again, like he's doing math in his head. "Apologies for the interruption," he says to the players, smoothing his vest. "My apologies for the sudden display. Let's resume, shall we?"