“What would you get out of doing that? That’s ridiculous.” He shakes his head. “And if you win?”
He steals a quick glance at me. When his eyes meet mine, my stomach flips. He smirks, like he knows exactly what he is doing to me, like he knows exactly how he makes me feel.
I stare at him, stunned, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
“As I’m feeling particularly generous… if I win, you keep the three hundred grand, on the condition that I get your daughter, for the whole week.”
“What?” I shout, jerking up from the chair. “No way! That is not happening!”
“It’s a fair deal.”
“You planned this. Is this why you got my dad into the game in the first place? Gave me that stupid poker chip to get me here? To get to me?”
He turns to me and looks me in the eye, his face hard. “I know what I want.”
“This is ridiculous. Come on dad, we’re leaving.” I begin to walk away but I stop when I realise my dad isn’t following me.
I look back to see he is still sitting at the table, scratching his head, deep in thought.
“Dad?” He looks up at me. His answer written across his face, his decision already made. “You’re not considering this are you?”
“It’s a lot of money, Hayley.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re willing to risk losing, and handing me over to him to do God knows what?” I can’t believe this.
“I won’t lose. I can win, I know it. He’s bluffing.”
“Only one way to find out.” Kyle smirks.
“Dad,” I plead.
He gives me one last look, before pushing all of his chips into the center of the table.
I watch on in fear, my pulse pounding so hard I can hear it in my eardrums.
My father is going to lose, I can feel it, and I’m going to have to spend a whole week with him, doing whatever he wants. I’m filled with dread.
Yesterday, Kyle was a mysterious stranger, one you would find in a romance novel, one that makes your heart skip a beat and your cheeks flush, today, he is a ruthless bastard who toys with people, who uses their weaknesses and their desperations to get what he wants. I hate him. Anything I felt towards him earlier, feelings of want and desire for him are long gone.
I slowly make my way into an empty chair at the table, my eyes not leaving the game. My heart is in my throat, beating a mile a minute, waiting, and hoping, my stomach churning with nerves.
Kyle carefully lays his cards down on the table and leans back in his chair. “A Royal Flush,” he says proudly.
I know very little about poker, but I know enough to know what it means. A Royal Flush is the highest hand in poker, and it is extremely rare, only managed by the most skilled and experienced poker players, by someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.
My dad looks at me, remorsefully and tosses his cards down on the table.
“Mr King wins,” the dealer announces.
“Good game, Mr Roberts.” Kyle stands up from the table, unbuttoning his jacket and loosening his tie slightly. “I’ll wire three hundred grand to your account once the week is up, as promised.”
“I can’t believe this,” I mutter, I can feel that familiar sting of tears in the back of my eyes again.
He turns to me. “Hayley, shall we go?”
“Fuck you. I never agreed to any of this,” I snap.
I stand up from my chair, the legs scraping the plush red carpet and storm past my dad, barging past Kyle, shoving his shoulder as I walk away.
Chapter 8
Hayley
I burst out of the front entrance and take a deep breath of the cool evening air. It is dark outside now, how did so many hours pass so quickly? Tears stream down my face, mixing with the rain that is beginning to come down. Any other day I would hate it, but tonight the rain is soothing, comforting.
“Are you alright sweetheart?” a woman asks.
I look at her, she must be in her mid-forties, early fifties, she looks at me with concern. “I’m fine... thanks,” I reply.
I run down the steps, turning left and begin walking. For New York City, the streets are unusually empty and quiet, despite how late it is. I walk slowly, the events of the past few hours fill my head. How could my dad do that to us? To me? How could he gamble with me, my life so easily? Do I mean that little to him?
I carry on walking and before I know it, I'm lost. I haven’t been concentrating on where I'm walking and I have ended up in an alley, where I am met by two male silhouettes. From what I can see in the limited light, both of them have their attention fixed onto me.
“What do we ‘ave ‘ere then, Danny?” one of them asks, his thick British accent cutting through the air.
“Must be our lucky night, Harry.” This one has the accent of a New Yorker.
I begin to back away, but I come to a stop when I back into someone else.
“I go to find more booze and I see you two assholes have already started the party without me, who is this beautiful gem who has come to join us?” the third man asks.
“Just about to find out,” the man called Danny replies.
I scoot around the third man but end up backed against a wall. The three of them close in on me. All I know is that they are considerably taller, and judging by their voices, my guess is they are older too.
The rain is coming down harder now, my clothes are
