The penthouse suite on the forty-second floor of the Meridian Tower was a world away from the coffee shop where they'd shared painful truths just hours earlier. Camile adjusted her black evening dress that hugged her curves while maintaining an air of sophistication. She glanced at Landon as he straightened his platinum cufflinks.
"Remind me again why you think the watch ended up in Viktor Kozlov's private poker game?" Landon asked, his voice low as they approached the double doors, Arnold walking closely behind them.
"Because he has expensive taste and dangerous friends." Camile's eyes met his in the hallway mirror. "And because Kozlov and Caleb had a bit of a rivalry back in the day, he tried to win the watch on several occasions, he might know something."
The doors opened to reveal a dimly lit space that reeked of cigar smoke, aged whiskey, and money. Crystal chandeliers cast golden shadows over felt-covered tables where men in thousand-dollar suits moved chips like chess pieces in a game where fortunes changed hands with the flip of a card.
"Ms. Reynolds," a voice purred from behind them. They turned to see Viktor Kozlov himself, a man in his fifties with silver hair and predatory eyes. "How delightful to see you again."
Landon's jaw tightened imperceptibly as Kozlov's gaze lingered on Camile longer than necessary, his hand moving to the small of her back with practiced familiarity.
"Viktor," Camile smiled, though Landon could see the tension in her shoulders. "I brought a friend. Landon Archer."
"Archer?" Kozlov's eyes sharpened with interest. "As in Caleb Archer? How fascinating." He extended a manicured hand. "I hope you're as bad at poker as your father was."
"From what I hear you lost quite a number of times to him, ironic isn't it?" Landon's handshake was firm, deliberate.
Kozlov laughed, a sound Landon found particularly irritating. "You have your father's wits, but wits didn't help your father and it won't help you here. What matters here is potential." He turned back to Camile, his fingers trailing down her arm. "And speaking of potential, my dear, you look absolutely ravishing tonight."
Landon felt something dark and primal surge through his chest, a possessiveness he had no right to feel but couldn't suppress. The way Kozlov touched her, looked at her, as if she were another prize to be won at his tables.
"We'd like to join tonight's game," Camile said, stepping slightly closer to Landon, whether consciously or not.
"Of course, of course. But you understand, this isn't amateur night. The buy-in is five hundred thousand. Cash only." Kozlov's smile was sharp as a blade. "I assume that won't be a problem for you would it? Your father didn't exactly leave much of an inheritance"
"Not at all," Landon replied coolly, ignoring his mocking tone. He gestured for Arnold to deliver the bag of cash Camile had asked him to carry along. Half a million was insignificant, but he wondered if he wasn't buying himself into a dangerous situation. He never shied away from those but tonight he was with Camile and putting her in danger wasn't exactly what he promised Katherine.
They were led to a table where five other players sat in various states of confidence and desperation. Landon recognized two faces from business magazines, one was a tech mogul who'd recently gone through a messy divorce, and the other a real estate developer known for his aggressive tactics and questionable ethics.
As they took their seats, Kozlov leaned down to whisper something in Camile's ear that made her stiffen. Landon's hands clenched around his chips.
"Gentlemen," Kozlov announced to the table, "We have ourselves new blood tonight. Please welcome Mr. Landon Archer and the lovely Ms. Reynolds."
The first few hands were cautious, everyone sizing up the newcomers. Landon played conservatively, watching the other players' tells, their betting patterns, the way they handled their chips when they were bluffing versus when they held strong hands.
But it was during the fifth hand that things took a dangerous turn.
"You know," said Michael Brant, the real estate developer, his eyes fixed on Camile as he pushed chips forward, "I think I'll raise the stakes tonight. Not just money." He had on a perverted grin. "The winner of this hand gets a private dinner with the beautiful Ms. Reynolds."
The table went silent. Camile's face flushed with anger. "I'm not a prize to be wagered," she said coldly.
"Everything's a prize if you're brave enough to claim it," Brant leered, clearly drunk on too many glasses bourbon and his own perceived power.
Landon's vision went red. Every instinct screamed at him to reach across the table and introduce Brant's face to the felt, but he was a master at concealing his emotions and keeping his cool.
"Interesting proposition," Landon said, his voice dangerously quiet. "But if we're going to make this personal, let's make it really interesting." He pushed his entire stack to the center of the table. "I'll see your pathetic little dinner bet and raise you two million. The winner takes all, including an apology to the lady."
Kozlov's eyebrows rose. "Mr. Archer, that's... substantial. You're certain?"
"Dead certain." Landon's eyes never left Brant's face. "Unless Mr. Brant doesn't have the stomach for real stakes?"
Brant's face flushed red. The challenge to his masculinity in front of the table was too much to ignore. "You're on, pretty boy. Let's see what daddy's money can really buy you."
The cards were dealt. Landon glanced at his hand—king of hearts, queen of hearts. Not the strongest, but workable. More importantly, he'd been watching Brant all night. The man had a tell: he touched his wedding ring when he was nervous, spun it when he was bluffing.
When the flop came, Brant immediately touched his ring, then caught himself. Interesting. Either he was bluffing about having nothing, or he was trying to make Landon think he was bluffing when he actually had something strong.
"I'll bet five hundred thousand," Brant said, pushing chips forward with exaggerated confidence.
Landon studied him carefully. The wedding ring again, but just a brief touch. And there, the slight dilation of his pupils despite the dim lighting. Adrenaline. Fear.
"Call," Landon said simply.
The turn card: ten of spades.
Landon now had the possibility of a straight if the river was an ace or a nine. But more importantly, he was reading pure terror in Brant's posture now. The man was committed to a bluff he could no longer afford to maintain.
"All in," Brant declared, shoving his remaining chips forward in a desperate bid to force Landon to fold.
Landon smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that." He pushed his chips to match. "Call."
The river card was revealed: ace of clubs.
Landon had his straight, ace high.
"Full house." Brant declared triumphantly.
The table erupted in surprised murmurs. It was a strong hand, but as Landon slowly revealed his cards, the room fell silent.
"Ace-high straight," he said quietly. "Beats a full house every time."
Brant's face widened in shock as the reality hit him. He'd just lost everything and owed an apology he clearly had no intention of giving gracefully.
"You cheated," he snarled, half-rising from his seat. "Nobody's that lucky."
"Luck?" Landon's voice was ice-cold as he began stacking chips. "That wasn't luck, Brant. That was you being too stupid to realize when you were outclassed."
But even as he savored the victory, Landon noticed Kozlov watching the exchange with calculating eyes. And when the Russian's gaze shifted to Camile who was looking at Landon with something that might have been admiration, he realized they might have won the hand but walked into something far more dangerous.
"Magnificent play, Mr. Archer," Kozlov said softly, his accent thickening. "But I'm afraid the evening is just beginning. And some games... Well, some games don't end when the cards are folded."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees, and Landon realized that protecting Camile and finding his watch was going to require more than just superior poker skills.
They were going to have to completely trust each other.