He Said , “Go Die”

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor.

Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don.

She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh.

"Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die."

"You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…"

The room erupted in crude laughter.

Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack.

Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet.

His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me.

I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck."

After all, some stains never wash out.

Seven years ago, I begged my boyfriend, Declan, to save my father's life.

When we met again, he was the youngest Don in the city, and I was just the woman dealing his cards.

Someone had dared his fiancée, the princess Maeve, to share the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win him over.

She pointed at me and laughed, boasting about how she'd intercepted my distress message to Declan, leaving me to wait all night in the rain for nothing.

Everyone laughed, except for Declan. Enthroned at the head of the table, his eyes were bloodshot. "Is that true? Why did you really leave me?"

I calmly dealt his hole cards. "Because you told me to go die."

The most exclusive underground casino in the city was booked for a private event tonight.

Word on the street was that a new Don, one who'd clawed his way up over a mountain of bodies, was back in town and holding court.

When the manager handed me the table assignments, his eyes held a hint of pity I couldn't quite decipher.

"Sienna, that lounge tonight… if you don't want to go, I can arrange for another dealer."

I tugged at the lapels of my low-cut dealer's vest and managed a faint smile.

"It's fine, sir. That's the highest-stakes table we have. The tips are huge. I need the money, you know that."

The manager sighed and said no more, only patting me on the shoulder.

As I pushed the chip cart into the VIP lounge, the acrid smoke of Cuban cigars mingled with the heavy scent of perfume, an assault on my senses.

It was the distinct smell of dirty money and stale fear.

The man I hadn't seen in seven years was slouched on the leather sofa at the head of the room.

He had changed so much.

The street rat I remembered, the one in a battered leather jacket with a bone-deep viciousness, was gone.

In his place sat a king who held the power of life and death over this underground empire.

He had his head turned, listening to someone report to him, a careless, cold smirk playing on his lips.

And nestled beside him was the mafia princess who'd stolen him from me all those years ago.

Maeve wore a deep V-neck couture gown, her body pressed against his solid chest. The pigeon's blood ruby on her necklace was almost blinding.

She swirled a glass of red wine, her posture arrogant, playing the part of the lady of the house.

"After Declan cleans out the South District, we'll have our wedding. A union of the two families."

A chorus of congratulations immediately filled the air.

"Our Don and his Princess. A true power couple."

"Don Declan is a legend in the entire underworld now. Maeve, you're a lucky woman!"

"Now that's true love forged in hardship. Not like that cowardly bitch who climbed into another man's bed to save her own skin. She can rot in the gutter for all I care."

A thug bellowed the profanity, and the air in the room instantly dropped to freezing.

All eyes, as if on cue, turned to me, shuffling cards behind the poker table.

I was a machine, numbly shuffling, cutting, and placing the ace of spades on the felt.

"Texas Hold'em, no-limit. Place your bets, gentlemen."

I pushed two hole cards across the green felt to Declan. The motion was crisp, flawless.

Declan finally looked up.

What kind of look was in his eyes?

Contempt. Disgust. And a bottomless hatred.

He didn't look at his cards, just stared at me through the haze of cigar smoke.

The wrist I used for dealing, sore from the long hours, trembled slightly.

"Sienna?" His voice was low and raspy when he finally spoke.

"I heard you ran off with a rival family's Capo. So, the old man got tired of you and kicked you to the curb? Now you're reduced to dealing cards in my casino?"

The room full of soldiers fell silent, waiting to watch their Don make his move.

Maeve covered her mouth in an exaggerated gasp, looking at me with feigned surprise. "Oh my god, it really is Sienna! How… how did you end up like this?"

"If you're that desperate for work, just say the word. Even though you abandoned Declan for money back when he was a nobody, I can still find a spot for you scrubbing toilets at my estate."

She deliberately stressed the words "abandoned Declan for money."

The men around us erupted in jeers.

"Serves her right. Look at the Don now, he runs half the city's underworld. And her? She's just a card-dealing machine."

"Once a whore, always a whore, no matter what cards she's dealing. Bet she'd earn a lot more in tips if she took off that uniform."