The Hitman's Secret

Ch. 32: A Lethal Game

MATTEO

Matteo couldn't believe his eyes.

Either Val was a poker addict in a former life, or he'd severely underestimated the amount of time she spent playing with Luca this past summer. She was winning by a long shot, and he knew it had nothing to do with beginners' luck. This was pure skill.

At the start of the game, none of the men around the table paid her much mind. They simply wanted to win the pile of diamonds she'd thrown in the pot as quickly and efficiently as possible. Even Matteo found himself doubting her.

A stupid mistake. He should've known better by now.

Val played the first hands conservatively, adorning a masterful poker face that gave the illusion of uncertainty. Then, when the time came, she placed a hefty bet on the table. Many of the capos, Tomasso included, called her bluff and threw their own chips in the pot, convinced that the principessa had no clue what she was doing.

They were wrong. Fuck, were they wrong.

She flipped over her cards and revealed a full house, king high.

The men who had been smart enough to fold chuckled, while the ones who fell into her trap fumed in silence as she gathered their chips. Adriano, who'd always been a shit poker player, was the only man who acted overjoyed by his neice's deception, throwing his head back in laughter every time Valentina won a hand. Even her father did not appear equally amused.

The game continued like that. Matteo felt like he was watching the finals of the World Poker Tour. One hour passed, then another. Players dwindled, but Valentina remained.

She didn't let a slip of emotion crack her emotionless mask. Only when the hands were finished would she adorn a breathtaking smile of victory. She'd brush a curtain of deep brown away from her brow, take a sip of ice water, and adorn her mask once more.

It was sexy as hell.

But Matteo seemed to be the only one who thought so.

The capos around the table started drinking hard liquor to lighten the sting of Val's victories– and the swift loss of their own money. Their drunkenness made them reckless with their bets, and one after another, they dropped like flies.

Eventually, only Val and Leonardo still sat at the table. Father against daughter. Don against heiress.

The rest of the room, the women included, watched anxiously as a hand was played and neither player folded. Val placed a bet, leaving her father to push the rest of his chips into the center. All in.

Everyone held their breath as the river, the final card, was revealed to be a queen. The five cards on the table read: ace of hearts, seven of hearts, queen of diamonds, three of diamonds, and queen of hearts.

A wicked grin pulled on Leonardo's lips, and he took a final puff of his cigar before leaning back in his chair and flipping his cards over.

Fuck. Matteo's chest tightened at the masterful hand on display. He had bullets– two aces.

It would be hard for Val to beat three aces. But not impossible.

Val frowned at her father's hand, and the capos around the table seemed to believe that Leonardo had her beat. Several of them started applauding, smug grins spreading across their faces. They didn't care that they already lost, as long as Valentina wasn't the ultimate victor...

"That's a good hand," Val murmured, peeking down at her own hand that was hidden against the green felt. She pursed her lips, and suspense clogged the entire lounge.