Page 8 of Ace of Hearts

I don’t reply to that. We spend the rest of the flight sleeping—or rather, she falls asleep, and I spend the time thinking through everything that could go wrong when we get to Vegas.

I know that hiring Rose is madness. I’ll never be able to learn to count the cards like she does in such a short time. I couldn’t even if I spent the rest of my life trying, to be honest. But why not give it a try?

What I’m most interested in, though, is her gift for observation and analysis. If she can help me decipher the code that is Tito, I have a much greater chance of winning.

And if achieving that means I have to pay a lost, unstable, and arrogant girl a small fortune ...? So be it.

It’s obvious that Rose has never been to Las Vegas before. As soon as we land, she clams up and surveys her surroundings. Her expression is curious, hungry, even a little admiring. Though I’ve only known her a few days, I was sure she’d like it here.

When Thomas opens the trunk of the rental, a magnificent shining black Audi R8, Rose strokes the bodywork with something approaching reverence. I already knew she liked cars. That probably explains “Carlotta”—thank God it wasn’t a dog, or something worse.

“Can I drive?” she asks.

“No,” Thomas replies for me as he lifts our suitcases into the trunk.

Rose glares at him, offended. I wouldn’t play this game with Thomas if I were her. There’s a good chance she’ll get her feathers ruffled. But watching them tussle is fun, so I leave them to it.

“Why can’t I?” she asks.

“A: because I always drive,” Thomas says. “And B: because we’ve known you for what ... five minutes?”

She mutters something in Italian that I don’t understand but then flashes him a mocking smile.

“Sorry, Chris. I’d forgotten it’s your job.”

She leaves him to load up her suitcase and climbs into the back seat like a princess.

I stand there with my hands in my pockets, unable to suppress a smile.

She plays the role of the spoiled brat magnificently.

Thomas clenches his jaw, trying to control himself, and gives me a black look. He’s near his boiling point.

“I’m going to leave her fucking suitcase on the pavement, Levi. I’m not touching it.”

I should probably let Rose know that she should really think twice before teasing him ... Thomas’s god complex makes him too proud for his own good, and we’re still working on his grasp of empathy. But in every other way, he’s great!

I walk over and pat his shoulder, lowering my voice to say, “I’d pay a lot to see what happens if you were to do that ... but I need her.”

“You don’t need anybody.”

I wish that were true .

“Be nice, will you?” I say. “The poor girl doesn’t know what she’s got coming.”

He frowns and asks what I’m plotting. I just grab Rose’s suitcase and put it in the trunk. I smile as I think of the idea that came to me on the plane, and as I imagine her face when she hears about it.

I’m so exhausted, I don’t say a word for the whole drive. Rose is staring out of the open window, the warm wind ruffling her short hair. The heat is suffocating. I hadn’t missed the forty-five-degree Las Vegas heat: it’s a world away from what I’m used to in Saint Petersburg.

When we reach the hotel, there’s already a swarm of people outside the entrance. As we get closer, I recognize a few well-known players. Caesar’s Palace is the ideal base for a visit to Las Vegas. It also happens to be where a lot of loaded players hole up during competitions.

“The whole world’s turning up at the same time as us,” Thomas mutters.

Exactly as I planned .

Rose follows my gaze, which is fixed on Tito’s back. I’d know him anywhere. A huge man, with powerful shoulders, salt-and-pepper hair combed backward, and a square jaw that women seem to find attractive.

As though sensing my presence, Tito turns around just as Thomas is pulling up. His gaze meets mine as if our eyes were irresistibly attracted magnets, and he gives me a wolfish smile.

It seems to say, I’ve been waiting for you .

My stomach is in knots, and I feel as though my insides are turning over. I hate this feeling of rage and fear that takes hold of me every time I see him. He scares me.

“Shall we come back later?” Thomas eyes the little crowd buzzing around Tito like wasps around a honey pot. It’s only then that I realize they’re journalists.

Absolutely perfect. Even better than I’d imagined.

“It’s not worth the hassle,” I say. “Come on.”

Thomas gets out first. Rose sizes up the situation in silence, seeming to sense that something isn’t right.

I undo my seat belt and lean toward her, a little closer than strictly necessary, but she doesn’t draw back.

I lower my face to her ear and murmur, “You see the guy just to your right who looks like Mads Mikkelsen? You know, that Danish actor who plays Hannibal Lecter on television?”

She follows my gaze, her catlike eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, and nods ever so slightly.

“Tito, I presume?”

“Exactly. Remember that face.”

I open my door as Thomas is unloading our suitcases. I ask him to go inside and check us in. One of the journalists near Tito seizes his chance while I’m defenseless and comes over, brandishing his camera, quickly followed by several others.

Rose stays behind me, trying to avoid the limelight for the first time since I’ve met her. I’d have thought she’d enjoy being in front of a lens, but I guess even her self-love has its limits.

“Levi, fancy seeing you here! How does it feel to be back, after yet another defeat last year?”

Twisting a knife in the wound: the classic technique used by hacks like him. I don’t let him ruffle me, though. I’m very aware of the cameras and of Tito’s intense stare. He’s loving this.

“I’m delighted, as ever. Looking forward to meeting my future opponents.”

Several journalists speak at once. I can barely make out what they’re saying until one raises her voice and holds her microphone right up to my face.

“Three months ago, you dropped a real bombshell. Can you confirm that this will really be your last WSOP?”

Silence falls on our little group. I play it cool.

“That’s right.”

“So you haven’t had second thoughts?” she presses.

“Having second thoughts isn’t really my style.”

“May we know why?” someone else asks. “This is quite surprising news from you. Especially since you’ve lost so many times in a row.”

I resist the temptation to say that being one of the top three players in the world isn’t exactly losing. Not winning doesn’t make someone a loser. Instead, I leave a dramatic pause. My secretive smile seems to heighten their curiosity.

“Let’s just say that I’ve recently realized there are more important things in life.”

“Meaning what? Have you got other plans?”

“I have. I love poker, but now I’d like to start building something completely different.”

Tito is still listening, and I sense rather than see his eyes narrowing. I’m already trembling with excitement when I announce with a smile, “You’re looking at a man who’s soon to be married!”

Ignoring the fact that Rose is quietly choking behind me, I turn to take her hand. Her skin is cold but soft against mine. I don’t dare look her in the eye, knowing that she’ll be looking daggers at me as I add, “Allow me to introduce you to my beautiful fiancée, Rose Alfieri.”