Page 28 of Ace of Hearts

Suddenly things begin to fall into place.

I don’t like alcoholics, he said to me. And he told me smoking would kill me.

And then there were Tito’s taunts when they met the other day.

I should’ve realized sooner. Did his father die because of an addiction?

I know it’s wrong, that I’m supposed to hate him, that he’s my worst enemy, etc.

, but I feel a wave of compassion for him.

Tito’s never told me about any of this. I jumped in headfirst without asking any questions. I only knew Levi’s name, but that was enough. I didn’t want to know anything about him because I didn’t want to feel any attachment to someone I wanted so badly to hate.

“Did your father ever recover?” I ask.

“He never got the chance,” he says simply.

“And your mother?” He never mentions her. Has he even got one?

“In prison.”

Holy fuck . At first, I think he must be joking, but he’s deadly serious. I sense his sadness too: his face has softened, and his eyebrows furrow as he looks at the floor.

“Involuntary manslaughter. She pleaded self-defense.”

Oh wow. So his father’s dead, and his mother’s in prison for murder.

Coincidence? Could his mother have ...

killed her husband? But that’s awful! Why didn’t I know about this?

I thought I was broken, but Levi must be living with far worse things than I could even imagine.

He smiles faintly at my shock, then puts a reassuring hand on my knee.

“I think you’d be better off going home, Rose.”

I can feel myself go pale. Go home? No, no, no. That’s not part of the plan. I can’t. My father would kill me. He’d know I’m useless, that I’m weaker than my demons.

And I wouldn’t see Levi again .

“Why? We haven’t finished.”

“Rose, you’re in a casino. A casino where there’s a world tournament taking place, and you’re walking around among the players all day. It couldn’t be much worse.”

“I’m fine!” I assure him as I stand up. “Believe me. And anyway, I need this money.”

He gets up, too, looking thoughtful. I know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. He’s going to say he’ll pay me anyway, and in that case, I’d have no excuse to stay.

“I can give you . . .”

“Please.” I cut him off.

He looks at me in silence.

He can’t send me home. I need to stay here. Close to him.

For Tito, of course.

“I don’t know. If it happens again ...”

“Levi,” I say, taking his hand and smiling reassuringly, “I’m not going to have another relapse.

I promise. I’m strong. Look. I haven’t played since I was in Macau, and I’m fine!

I only turned to Li Mei because I really need to repay my debts.

I could have gambled myself earlier, but I took the precaution of asking someone else to do it for me. Today was ... a one-off. OK?”

He doesn’t blink once as he looks at me. I look right back at him, praying he’ll believe me. I almost believe myself. In the end, he nods and says he’ll trust me.

“I’m going to order some food,” he says. “Why don’t you take a bath while I’m gone?”

He doesn’t need to ask me twice.

I wander back into the kitchen, wrapped in a white towel, makeup-free with my hair still wet. Levi’s waiting for me by the island, which is covered in bags.

“I didn’t know what you wanted, but I remembered you like sushi.”

I open the bags and to my surprise find the same order I got a few days ago. I’ll admit he has a good memory. I thank him with a smile.

My bath has done me a world of good. Just after I got out, I found a new message from my father, saying, “How’s it going?” I’m glad he didn’t see me at the blackjack tables ...

I look up at Levi, guilt clouding my vision. The more I get to know him, the more I feel a bond between us. He’s not what I’d imagined, and I regret what I have to do to him.

Technically speaking, you’re under no obligation, my conscience replies. I silence it with a swig of water. He asks me if my knee still hurts, and I shake my head. I tell him I want to apologize to Li Mei and Lucky, innocent victims of my crisis, and he agrees that it would be a good idea.

When all the sushi’s gone, I disappear into my room and come back with a little gift. I sit down and hand it to Levi. He raises his eyebrows, his mouth full.

“I didn’t have time to give it to you today, but ... I bought you something.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

“So what?”

“I didn’t know we were on gift-giving terms.”

“We’re engaged, amore mio .”

He grins and accepts the gift. He tears off the wrapping but pauses when he sees what’s inside. He doesn’t say anything for a while, his expression unreadable.

“What is this?” It’s not really a question. He knows very well what it is. I refuse to be deterred.

“It’s a color chart.”

He gives me an icy look.

“No need to get your claws out!” I say, rolling my eyes. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

“Rose, in case you haven’t got this yet, I can’t see colors.”

“I get that, thanks, but I’ve had an idea. Give it to me, and I’ll show you.”

I take it out of his hands, feeling confident now, and take a sheet of paper and a pen from a drawer. Then I fan out all the color strips in front of him.

“There are two hundred thirteen colors here. On this side,” I say, showing him the right-hand strips, “are all the colors you probably don’t recognize. On the other side are all the nuances of white, gray, and black: the ones you’ve told me you can see as well as I can. Are you with me so far?”

“So far, yes.” He sighs, not understanding what I’m driving at.

“I know it’s not very precise, and maybe it’s a stupid idea, but I thought it might help you.” I point to a shade of dark gray and show him the other colors as a comparison. “Out of all these colors, which are the same shade as number 9004?”

Now he looks surprised, as though he’s getting the idea. I explain to him that for all the colors on the chart that he can’t see there are other colors that he can see—and that it’s possible to notice which ones are similar and use that knowledge to narrow down the possibilities.

He plays along, examining the different shades. In the end, he points to several, and I write them down.

“6012, 5022, 3007, 4007, 3011 ...”

He’s pointed to red, brown, green, purple, and orange, all the darkest tints. We follow the same process for all the colors, which takes us over an hour. Once we’ve finished, I admire our detailed table.

“Ta-da!”

Levi shakes his head without saying anything, but I ignore him.

“OK, we’re going to do an experiment. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

I go and put on a different shirt and pair of trousers, choosing the colors at random; then I come back.

I point to my reddish-brown shirt and ask him what color it is.

He looks at it, and for a second, I get the distinct impression he’s scrutinizing my breasts, but then he turns to look at our chart.

“It looks like that tone,” he says, pointing to 9007. “So, by process of elimination ... it’s one of these eleven colors. Great. That really helps.”

I glare at him. Sarcasm, really? When all I’m trying to do is help?

“Give it a try. It’s a process of elimination.”

He has zero interest in doing what I’m asking him to do, I know, but he does it anyway. He manages to eliminate half the corresponding colors. I hide my smile when I see that auburn isn’t one of them. He can grumble as much as he likes, but my method works.

I’m a genius.

“And now, you can think about it in context. Which of these colors do you think I might be wearing?”

To be honest, it’s quite easy. The other choices are yellow—he already knows I hate yellow, burgundy, and navy blue. He points to auburn almost straightaway, looking at me with an expression full of hope, like a child.

My stomach turns over as I look at him. I’m pretty sure that even if he’d got the answer wrong, I’d have lied just to make him happy.

“Bravo!”

“Really?” he says, amazed but skeptical.

“Really. Of course, it won’t work every time, but it might help, don’t you think? OK, now my trousers. Which col ...”

“Beige.”

I don’t even have time to finish my sentence. I stop, open-mouthed. He didn’t pause for a second before answering. I ask him how he knows, and he just smiles and shrugs.

“It looks like beige.”

“You’re lying. You cheated; admit it.”

“How could I have cheated?” he asks me innocently.

I don’t know, but I’m still convinced he did. I let it go and clear the things off the table. He watches me, a strange light in his eyes. It’s probably the wine. His eyes always shine when he’s had a little too much to drink. It’s adorable.

Adorable? Since when has it been adorable?

I decide I’d better leave before I do something stupid, so I tell him I’m tired.

“Rose,” he calls me back, his chin resting in his hand as he looks at me.

“Mm?”

“A journalist from Glamour wants to do a video interview with us.”

I stop walking, amazed. Glamour ? Did I hear right?

“What do you mean, ‘with us’?”

“With us as a couple. What do you think?”

I want to ask why he hasn’t already turned down the offer. It’s a terrible idea, after all. And let’s be honest; we both know he doesn’t need the publicity. The readers of Glamour aren’t a potential source of business. Besides, Levi couldn’t care less about his reputation.

What’s behind this, then?

“Why not?” I say.

“OK, I’ll call them.”

I nod. He’s still looking at me, a little smile on his lips, probably waiting for me to leave. The mood has shifted. Is it because he’s had a drink, or because of what happened today? Whatever it is, he’s not looking at me in the same way he did this morning.

“You know ...,” I murmur awkwardly, “Levi Ivanovich is very different from what people say he is.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And what do people say?”

I think of the rumors I’ve seen on the internet, the whispers I’ve heard in the hotel corridors, and my father’s warnings about him even before I met him.

“That you’re a bad boy. That you’re a selfish, manipulative, greedy, cruel, dangerous womanizer.”

For a moment, there’s only silence. He doesn’t stop smiling, far from it. His smile widens as he suppresses a sigh whose meaning I don’t understand.

“You should probably still watch out, Rose,” he tells me at last. “You know what they say. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”