Page 3

The plan was to not directly get involved in the game; I was supposed to just watch and observe. Connor had promised my dad that I would only assist when necessary, when my input was needed.

However, Connor was losing, and I couldn't, in good conscience, sit back and watch him get utterly destroyed. The third-party organization might be anywhere in the room, watching and taking notes of the game.

If we lost, the deal would be off with immediate effect, and Dad would be super pissed. He was banking on this partnership, and although I had no idea who the other party was, I knew the deal must be good.

Our opponents were winning; they were steps ahead. And despite how much effort I put into telling Connor what to do, he still wasn't getting it. If we continued at this pace, we'd lose. We'd fail woefully.

I had to do something. I had to get involved. As Dad would say, “If you want something done to your taste, do it yourself.”

Connor was a bit reluctant at first; his pride wouldn't let me fix his mess, but I wasn't going to take no for an answer. He saw the determination in my gaze, and deep down, he knew that I was going to fix this problem. He was stuck anyway.

The faint streak of cold sweat trickling down his forehead was a clear indication of the turmoil within him. Dad would be furious at him if he lost the game because the entire O'Brian family was counting on him. He couldn't afford to fail.

“Connor, I can win this. Trust me,” I whispered to him, holding his gaze.

“Tessa, I promised your dad that…” he began, his voice hushed, desperation flickering in his eyes.

“Connor, my dad isn't here,” I cut him off, my words spoken through gritted teeth. “Which do you think is better: to go against your promise and win or stick to it and lose?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes shifting across the table and my face. His fingers scratched his jaw, a gesture that mirrored his confusion. Connor was contemplating what to do, but time was running out.

“Tick-tock, Connor,” I reminded him, my gaze pinned on his puzzled face. “What's it gonna be?”

His throat wobbled as he swallowed, finally giving in. “Fine,” he whispered, defeat creeping into his tone.

“Good.” I patted his shoulder and rose to my feet. “Scoot over.”

He moved himself to the next vacant chair, handing me full control of the game.

A million ways to win this game flooded into my mind as my sharp, calculating eyes traveled across the table. While Connor had been in control, I studied the players from the background, taking notes of their strategies and how they executed their moves.

It seemed almost impossible to get back to the winning level, considering the amount of damage Connor's mistakes had caused us. However, we stood a chance with the plan I'd devised.

Our opponents were strategic thinkers—risk takers—and the good thing was that they seemed to each have a pattern of winning. I'd been watching them since the beginning of the game, learning their moves and figuring out ways to counter them.

In the game of chess, there was something called a discovered attack, and your opponents wouldn't see it coming until it was too late. This tactic applied here, and it worked. The other players had no idea what I was cooking up; they were unaware of the tricks I had up my sleeves.

Their ignorance of my plan was my most powerful weapon. Even though they had their eyes scanning the table, they wouldn't see what hit them.

My primary objective was to win, no matter what. Losing wasn't an option; it was a luxury that I couldn't afford. Securing this deal was my family's ticket to the next level up the ladder of success. It was also my one chance to prove my worth.

As I raised the stakes and placed daring bets that shook the table, the air became thick with tension. To some, I was mad for taking such risks, and even Connor, at some point, began to doubt my ability to win this thing.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Uh, Tessa, don't you think you're moving too fast?”

“I know what I'm doing, Connor,” I replied with the same tone, stealing a glance at him. “Just trust me.”

He pulled away, drawing a deep breath as he decided to let me do my thing.

I could feel their gazes on me—all the players at the table. However, I never flinched—never showed any sign of fear, stress, or anxiety. Instead, I just smiled, maintaining an aura of sophistication like a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

My gaze was composed and confident as I swept my eyes across the players, their breaths lodged in their throats. The air was electric with tension and anticipation.

My lips curled into a triumphant grin as I savored the moment, revealing a straight flush that left them all in awe.

Murmurs rose among the players. Some were intrigued by the winning strategy, but the others…not so much.

Me, I didn't give a shit. The most important thing was that I won, fair and square.

The looks of surprise, shock, and disappointment on their faces were priceless. If only Dad were here to witness this victory, he wouldn't underestimate me ever again.

As proud of myself as I was, I maintained an aura of modesty, though my confidence shone through.

My smile was brief, a wave of satisfaction washing over me as I gathered my chips and leaned back in my chair. My expression was calm and collected, eyes fixed on the table.

“Way to go, Tessa,” Connor whispered to me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His lips curled into a charming smile. “You did really good tonight.”

I flashed him a faint grin, and my heart swelled with excitement. I felt adrenaline coursing through my veins.

A tall man dressed in a black suit approached me, his demeanor calm and reserved. “Well played, Ms. O'Brian.” He halted by my side, his voice smooth and polite.

I jerked my head to face him, eyes squinting as I wondered who he was.

“Edward,” he said, introducing himself. “Edward Cane.” His eyes, dark and hollow, locked onto mine. “I represent the organization your father's seeking to seal a deal with.”

My heart skipped a beat, my gaze meeting with Connor's in a fleeting moment.

“We've been watching you, Ms. O'Brian, and I must say, you're a good player, and my employer is impressed,” he confessed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

I could feel the rush of adrenaline pumping through me, but I maintained my composure, offering a polite smile.

He continued, “You've demonstrated a certain…flair for the game, and my employer believes your level of strategic thinking is quite rare.”

My cheeks flushed at his remark. “Well, thank you. I just try to stay focused.”

He shot a quick look at the other players, their faces a clear indication that they were still reeling at my win. “Indeed,” he said before looking right at me. “Ms. O'Brian, I'm pleased to inform you that we've agreed to move forward with the deal on account of your…remarkable skills tonight.”

Shut the front door! I exclaimed internally, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest.

I’d actually closed the deal. There was no way Dad was going to overlook this one; it was a big win, and it was achieved by me. Not him, not Liam, not Connor— me .

“Thank you, Mr. Cane.” I rose to my feet, beaming. “Now what?”

“Now we wait to discuss the finer details of the deal with your brother, Liam,” he said, a hand sliding into his pocket.

Wait, what?

My smile faltered. Was he being serious right now? After all the effort I’d put into securing this deal, he was just going to wait for my brother?

“But Liam's not here. I am,” I stated as though he didn't already know that. A pang of irritation swelled up within me, and I could feel my heart burning with resentment.

“That is correct,” he said with a stern and unapologetic tone. “However, in order for the deal to be struck, your brother's presence is of the utmost importance.”

I clenched my jaw, my scowl deepening as a spark of annoyance jolted across my body. This must be some elaborate joke. What did this man and his organization take me for, a fucking placeholder? It was obvious that these people saw me as nothing but a stand-in for my brother rather than a legitimate player in my own right.

Fuck you, Edward, and fuck your organization, too, I thought to myself, but in reality, I managed to squeeze out a plastic smile, my lips twitching at the corners. “I understand, and thank you once again.” I extended a hand, refraining from using it to slap him across the face.

He nodded, shaking my hand.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to powder my nose,” I said, leaving the table, embarrassed and angry.

“Tessa,” Connor called softly, clearly knowing that I was upset.

I ignored him and quickened my pace, in desperate need of some fresh air. He knew better than to follow me because, honestly, with how pissed off I was, I would've buried my crush for him and yelled in his face.

I strolled over to the bar and slid onto the stool, my teeth gritting in an attempt to contain my anger and disappointment.

“What can I get you?” the bartender, a tall woman with a dragon tattoo on her neck, asked me.

“Just a whiskey, please. On the rocks,” I replied, seething silently.

The bartender nodded, grabbed a glass filled with ice, and poured a generous measure of amber liquid into it. “Rough night?” she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and sympathy.

I let out a wry, humorless laugh, accepting the glass from her. “You have no idea.” I raised it to my lips and took a sip.

I felt the burn in my throat as the whiskey kicked in, a welcome distraction from the anger simmering beneath the surface. With a deep breath, I release a heavy sigh, feeling the warmth spread across my chest.

My eyes narrowed as I thought about the unfairness of how I was treated that night, and that was when I noticed him.

This strange man stood just beyond the edge of my vision, his presence commanding attention. I looked in his direction, and a shiver ran down my spine. My heart paused for a moment as our eyes met.

He was tall, handsome, and broad-shouldered, with an intimidating pair of piercing green eyes that seemed to bore into my very soul. The intensity of his gaze stole my breath away, leaving me almost utterly mesmerized.

His dark hair was neatly styled, highlighting the sharp angles of his chiseled face. With a slow, deliberate movement, he stepped forward, those green eyes never leaving mine. “Impressive game back there,” he said, his lips curling into a small smile that revealed a fraction of his perfectly white teeth.

I felt a flutter in my chest, and my cheeks flushed at his remark.

My eyes fell away from his, a faint grin playing on my lips. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he replied, his elbow resting on the counter's polished surface. “It was interesting watching you change the dynamics of the game in a matter of seconds. That's not a skill you see every day.”

Okay, it was obvious now that this ridiculously attractive man had a way with words.

I pursed my lips, suppressing the full-blown smile itching to reveal itself.

Quietly, I turned to offer him my full attention, ready to give a polite but guarded response, and that was when he ruined the moment.

“Erik Tarasov,” he said, introducing himself.

My heart sank into my stomach at that instant, and a sudden heat overwhelmed my whole body. I swallowed discreetly, clenching my jaw in an attempt to stay composed.

The Tarasov name was a beacon of fear, violence, and chaos. Everyone in this line of work knew how dangerous that twisted family was. And personally, I'd always dreaded ever bumping into one of them, considering the history between my family and theirs.

I wasn't exactly sure when the feud began; all I knew was that my family and the Tarasovs never saw eye to eye. Our enmity had lasted for decades, marked by violence, bloodshed, and betrayal. However, the past two to three years had been calm—no unnecessary killings, no bloodshed. Nothing.

Did he not know that I was an O'Brian? Whatever the case, I'd just play it cool and pretend to be comfortable until he left.

I looked him straight in the eyes and said, my voice as smooth as his despite my discomfort with his last name. “Well, Mr. Tarasov, I think you've overestimated my poker skills.” I sipped my whiskey.

“And I think you're just being modest,” he said, his husky voice teasing my senses.

“There's a fine line between honesty and modesty, Mr. Tarasov,” I said, struggling to appear composed and unbothered by this very conversation.

“Perhaps,” he said, his piercing gaze seeming to study my every move. “But in this case, you're being modest about my honest remark.”

My lips curved into yet another faint grin as I refused to be intimidated by him or his soul-piercing gaze.

“So, tell me,” he began, looking into my eyes, a sly, cutting glint flickering in his gaze. “Why didn’t the O'Brians send a proper representative for such an important event?” An evil smirk spread across his chiseled face, as if he had done that on purpose to get under my skin.

My brows narrowed, forming deep creases between them as a scowl settled on my face. My jaw tightened, and a jolt of resentment surged through my veins.

His condescension fueled my rage, and I cast a stern glare at him. “At least we don't resort to underhanded tactics and backroom deals to get what we want,” I shot back, my voice low and even. “We have honor, and we take pride in it…something you'll never understand because it's the one thing your organization lacks,” I concluded, my tone dripping with disdain.

“You've got a sharp tongue, don't you…Tessa?” he bit back with venom, his expression darkening.

The way he called me by name sent shivers down my spine. His deep, menacing voice caused my core to tremble.

He leaned closer, speaking in a deadly whisper. “I suggest you bridle that tongue of yours before you make enemies with people far more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”

His warning struck my heart like lightning.

I gritted my teeth, trying to compose myself and mask my unease. If he saw a glint of fear in me, he'd latch onto that and exploit my weakness. So, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me terrified.

“That's all you Tarasovs brag about, isn't it? Power?” I leaned forward, my eyes sizing him up. I even brushed my fingers against his tie. “Well, news flash…” I edged closer and whispered in his ear, “I don't scare easily.”

As I pulled away to catch the look on his face, his lips curled into a smirk like he was intrigued by my defiance.

He held my gaze, his eyes boring into mine, but I wouldn't look away. I wouldn't flinch.

Erik brushed his thumb over his nose, a dismissive scoff escaping his lips. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.” He straightened, reaching into his pocket to pull out a wad of cash.

I watched him peel off a few bills and slap them on the counter with a deliberate flush. “Keep the change,” he said to the bartender and walked away.

I could pay for my own bloody drink, but the asshole just wanted to show off.

As I sat there, watching him leave, my mind raced. Given the ongoing feud between our families, it might have been unwise to challenge him the way I did. Now, I couldn't help but wonder what the consequences of this unpleasant encounter would mean for both our families.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.