Trust
Authors: Aubrey St. Clair
Copyright
©
2015 Aubrey St. Clair
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, dialogue, and everything else are products of the author's
imagination. Any resemblance to people or events, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.
Note:
This book was previously available as a series of novellas called “Gamble”, and
then as the novel “Betrayal”
Also By
Aubrey St. Clair
Coming
Christmas 2015
Silver
& Chrome
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Note
from Aubrey
I’m
working on a new website to keep you updated on the progress of my upcoming
projects as well as other fun stuff. Check it out at
www.aubreystclair.com
When
you’re done reading this book, make sure to keep going as I’ve included the
first chapter of my follow-up novel,
Silver & Chrome
, for you to
sample.
CONTENTS
"If I
win, I get the girl."
It was said
so matter-of-factly that it didn't register with me until I heard it a second
time, after Harrison asked him to repeat it.
"You're
in over your head, kid, that much is obvious," the other man continues,
eying the small stack of chips left in front of my boyfriend
meaningfully. He had just shoved a large stack of his own chips into the
pot that more than eclipsed what Harrison had in front of him. "Instead
of risking what you have left, which isn't much, I'm suggesting we change the
stakes. You win, you get everything in the pot."
With the
chips he had just added, that would more than cover the heavy losses Harrison
had accumulated in the last couple of days. "But if I win, the girl
comes home with me."
This time I
knew I heard what he said and it sounded just as ludicrous as it did originally.
Obviously he was joking, or crazy, if he thought Harrison would agree to
something like that.
The man
lifts the dark sunglasses he's wearing up and off his face as he shifts his
gaze up to me. His eyes are a cobalt blue, sitting beneath short blond hair
and above a finely chiseled, unshaven jaw. Under normal circumstances
he'd be drop dead gorgeous, but the fact that he is calmly trying to negotiate
a price for my ass makes him decidedly less so.
I glance
down at Harrison who is also looking up at me. I expect to see a familiar
grin on his lips, the one that tells me we are both sharing the same
joke. But what I see is something else entirely. One of his
eyebrows is raised, and his green eyes are staring at me intently, as if he is
either considering this ludicrous proposal or asking for my permission.
I shake my
head slightly with a frown, annoyed that I even need to give my opinion on the
matter.
Harrison
looks back at the poker player across from him. "Deal," he
finally says.
It's just a
single word, but it's the only one needed to crash my whole world.
So many
things seem to happen at once in the moments that follow, my senses seem to
jumble with time itself and I don't even know in what order everything occurs.
There's a
collective gasp that comes from onlookers, both those sitting at the table and
others who are just standing around watching. For some reason, a lot of
people are drawn to this game, despite the fact that until this particular bet,
the stakes haven't been abnormally high.
Cards are
flipped, but I'm no longer paying attention to what they are. Despite
Harrison's love of the game, and gambling in general, I've never taken any big
interest in poker. The important point is, once the hand is over, the
reaction from everyone around us tells me all I need to know.
Harrison
has lost.
As soon as
the cards are turned he's on his feet, explaining the unexplainable.
"Unbelievable! There's no way I thought he had a boat there, baby. I
thought for sure I had him, and then all of our troubles would have been
solved. I'd have won all my money back in one hand!"
All of
our
troubles? He convinced me to come with him on this trip using a lie about
working on our relationship, but ever since we've landed he's spent all of his
time at the poker tables. He lost money yesterday, and I'm pretty sure he went
back after I fell asleep and lost some more.
Harry is
still talking, still trying to explain, but I'm too stunned to listen as I
stare down at the table and the stranger sitting across from us. The dealer
has shoved the huge pile of chips toward him in a messy assortment of hard,
plastic, primary colors, but he's ignoring them as if they aren't worth
thousands of dollars. Instead, he's watching me behind an expressionless
mask of blue eyes and blond stubble. I wrench my gaze away and back to
Harrison. He's still talking. Still explaining. I haven't
heard much, but I don't need to. I've had enough. I don't need to listen
anymore. I've spent too long listening in the past. I can recite the excuses
by heart.
"You
gambled me away," I say simply. It isn't any more complex than that.
He shakes
his head, still in denial over what seems so undeniable to me now. We're
done.
"Lila,"
he begins, but I shake my head again.
"Don't."
I can't
imagine a single thing he can say right now to change the way I feel. In
my mind, the last few months have been leading up to something like this.
An inevitability that I've been trying to ignore, but now that it's here, I
already feel strangely calm about.
Of course,
in my mind I hadn't imagined it would go down like this. Thousands of
miles from home, having my boyfriend of the last seven months casually gamble
me away to a complete stranger for the equivalent of a few thousand dollars.
Yet in a way, it makes sense. At least in terms of my relationship with
Harrison.
But it
leaves me without a plan forward. Our flight home isn't until Monday
morning and it's only Friday night. I have no intention of going back to
the hotel with Harrison now. It would give him the wrong idea. This
needs to end, and I have no intention of letting him talk me out of it
again. This betrayal is the final straw. He's hurt me for the last
time and, despite being at peace with the decision, I'm still so angry I want
to hurt him back.
I look over
at the other player. He's still watching me with that handsome but
expressionless face. Still ignoring the pile of money in front of
him. Other people are watching as well, many of them whispering to each
other. I just want to get out of there.
"What's
your name?" I ask, finally addressing him.
The
whispering grows louder, a few people exchanging questioning looks as if my
question is any more ludicrous than the rest of the last 15 minutes have
been. The corner of his mouth curls up into a little half smirk, and his
blue eyes continue the smile.
"Chase,"
he says. "Chase Anderson."
"Okay,
Chase Anderson. Get me the hell out of here."