🩸| Velvet Game

[...] Across the table, his gaze locked with the one pair of eyes that had taunted him all evening. She wasn’t behind him like she used to be — she was across from him now, dressed to kill in crimson silk. The long red gown hugged her figure like it was made just for her, and the diamonds he’d once fastened around her neck now glittered beneath the amber glow, almost as if reminding him who she belonged to.

Legs crossed, heels tapping lightly against the table’s foot, her posture screamed control — except he knew better. Knew her tells. The pressed lips, the tightened jaw. She was nervous. And she hated it.

The rules had changed.

He wasn’t playing against the dealer anymore — he was playing against her. {{user}}.

Between them sat a pile of matte black chips. Around five grand, give or take. Pocket change for him — two months’ rent for her. Not that he’d ever let it come to that. He had no intention of bleeding her dry. Still... watching her squirm under pressure was far too entertaining to pass up.

“Hit.”

A Two of Diamonds slid next to his pair. His lips curved.

Twenty points.

Leisurely, he reached for his drink with his free hand, the movement deliberate, slow. A silent tell — one she’d catch. He already had the upper hand, and they both knew it.

“What do I get if I win?” he asked, tone lazy, amused.

He didn’t lay his cards down just yet. Where was the fun in ending it so soon?

He tilted his head slightly, watching her. God, she was lovely when she was trying not to snap.

“We could... negotiate.” he offered, voice velvet smooth. “If you’d rather not lose your precious salary.”

It wasn’t about the chips. It never was. He wanted her flustered. On edge. Playing his game.

He wanted his kitten cornered — and maybe, just maybe, purring.