Page 3

Valeria

M alin Zhumagulov was the quietest man I'd ever met. While I dealt for him and his brother for thirty minutes, he only said three words: "Good evening" when I showed up and changed for Natalia and "Sorry" when I took the bet, and our fingers accidentally touched for a millisecond.

His brother, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

He always had to point out something or make a remark about the game.

He looked like he couldn't help himself and had to comment on everything. His cheerful nature was contagious, and I wondered if Travis hadn’t exaggerated things a little.

Malin was slightly weird, but being quiet didn't necessarily mean he was dangerous. And Dorian was more of a puppy than a rabid animal. The fear in my boss's face, which I saw every time our eyes met, didn't make any sense.

"Are you going back to manage the tournament?" Dorian asked when the loud honk announced the last two minutes of the break.

"I'm not sure. Maybe I'll stay here to keep you brother company," I replied, flashing a broad smile at Malin, who leaned into his seat, watching me with curiosity in his brown eyes. They were darker than his brother's yet still exquisitely beautiful.

I couldn't wait to grab my phone and Google something about them.

Their uniquely handsome features caught my attention initially, yet I was antsy to find out what was so special about them.

People treated them with immense respect, and those who sat at the table and played looked at them with admiration mixed with fear.

Even our regular customers weren't as at ease as usual.

Everyone watched their mouths like they were afraid they might say something stupid or offending, and they were highly respectful toward the staff.

Being surrounded by such well-behaved men and women didn't happen a lot.

Zhumagulovs should visit us more often. They certainly improved our work environment.

While I shuffled the cards for the next game, I lost myself thinking of how I could have lived in New York for ten years and never have heard of the brothers.

It seemed as if everyone knew them. Some avoided them like the plague, while a few courageous ones lingered around the table, watching the big game.

I didn't see anything abnormal, but then I noticed when our daily customer, Johnny, accidentally kicked Malin's chair.

He almost fell to his knees, apologizing.

I lifted my eyebrows, and Dorian chuckled, but Malin didn't move a muscle.

His eyes were fixed on me, and an alarm in my head went wild.

He sat at the table like a king, and people around him weren't even worth one of his bored glances.

It was weird, and I started to feel the effects of his presence.

"You don't know who we are, do you?" Malin said in a low voice, leaning closer to me. "Valeria."

I looked into his stoic face, opening my mouth, but nothing came out. His scrutinizing gaze held me prisoner. He stared at me like I was an exhibit in a museum.

"Don't scare her," Dorian interjected, playing with five-hundred-dollar chips. He shot me a smile, but he didn't ease the tension. The atmosphere rapidly became heavier. "She's been nothing but nice to us."

"Everyone is nice to us," Malin pointed out, watching my face closely. I wanted to hide under the table from his piercing look.

"Well, you supposedly eat babies for breakfast. Even I feel the need to be nice to you, and we shared a womb once.

" Dorian shrugged, winking at me, but instead of making me smile, my poor, empty stomach turned to knots from this odd conversation.

Because of the expressions of other players, I really had no idea if he was making fun of us or not .

I smiled nervously, putting the cards into the dealer's shoe and waiting for them to place bets.

"What do you think, Valeria? Do I like babies for breakfast?" Malin asked. I frowned, not understanding what he was doing. He obviously enjoyed my nervous state.

"Of course." I nodded, and he raised one eyebrow. "I'm sure, thanks to it, you have such great skin and no wrinkles."

"See." Dorian chuckled, slamming his brother's shoulder hard. "I told you she's nice."

"Yes, you did," Malin whispered, sending shivers down my spine.

He finally looked away from me, counting his chips and preparing two three-thousand-dollar bets.

I released a deep breath, but my heart skipped a beat when Dorian left to play the tournament while Travis left me at the blackjack table for another round.

I kept a polite smile in place, and my hands made learned moves, but my mind was preoccupied with the person in front of me.

For half an hour, he didn't say a word. Nothing.

Not even a sigh escaped his mouth when he lost thirty thousand dollars.

And then, he started winning. No matter the decision he made, he won.

Five times, I shuffled six packs of cards, and he won every single game I dealt.

It was impossible. I had to ask Travis for a refill because all the chips I had were on his side.

Linda, the oversight of the live games, stood behind my back, and Travis watched everything from the side, but none of them stopped it.

After maybe thirty games in a row, I finally managed to win one.

I glanced at my boss, but he only rolled his eyes.

Clearly, he didn't dare stop Malin from robbing the casino.

"Are you counting cards again?"

A profound, hostile, raspy male voice interrupted my concentration, and not only me but everyone who watched Malin's game turned in the direction of a man who knocked the air out of my lungs just because of his looks.

The man who came to the table was surely the third Zhumagulov brother.

I didn't know his name, but given the reactions of customers and employees who noticed him, he was the boss.

People quickly stepped aside to make room for him but avoided direct eye contact.

They were shit scared, and truth be told, I was too, but I wasn't sure if it was because of his intimidating, arrogant presence or because I was reacting the same way as everyone around me.

He was dressed in an all-black, three-piece suit, a button-up shirt, tie, watch, and shoes—everything on him was black.

His hair was so dark that it looked almost wet and fell into his eyes, which looked like bottomless pits in hell.

His entire neck was tattooed, and some wingy monster stared at us from under his collar.

A skull also beautified the back of his right hand, and on the other, he had a few snakes.

He was creepy and scary, as if he had just walked out of some freak show, yet I found him oddly mesmerizing.

He was shocking and frightening; one glance at his sinister eyes could probably make me pee myself, but at the same time, I felt a weird tingling in my stomach, which traveled through my entire body, poisoning my cells, nerves, and eventually thoughts.

His face had the exact contours of his brothers', but his expression was deadly.

He had nothing in common with Dorian's playful smile and excitement in his eyes.

He was like a dragon, ready to breathe fire and destroy everyone and everything in his path, yet maybe, just maybe, we were lucky enough, and he honored us with his presence because he was in a good mood.

"I'm testing them, and they are failing," Malin replied, tapping his long fingers against the yellow surface of the table. His voice brought me back to reality, and I quickly glanced at Travis, who stared in horror at the two identical men.

"Well, that's a shame," the third bother said, faking sadness and opening his suit jacket. I watched in what felt like slow motion as he pulled out a golden gun.

My breath hitched in my throat. An image of my beautiful daughter appeared before my eyes when he pulled the trigger.

Instinctively, I crouched down and covered my head with my hands. The panic quickly spread, and even when the bullet ended up in the ceiling, not hurting anyone, people scattered in all directions like frightened chickens.

I was breathing hard, hidden under the table with Linda next to me, trembling with fear.

I heard someone shouting at guests to get out and never come back, and I peeked over the edge of the table to see Dorian standing at the door with a gun in his left hand.

Malin was behind the bar, overseeing the servers, and the third of them had disappeared .

Connecting my eyes with Linda's, I indicated to her to stand up and walk to the door with me. She agreed, and together, we slowly moved toward the front entrance, but Dorian instantly stopped us, allowing only the customers to leave.

"Employees must stay," he announced nonchalantly like he wasn’t pointing a gun at us, pushing us to the VIP saloon. Almost all my colleagues were already gathered there, shaking like leaves in the wind from the pure panic.

I sat on the high stool at the ultimate poker table, placing my hands in my lap. I trembled slightly but did my best to keep a stoic face. The brothers didn't have a reason to hurt us. They would probably announce something and would allow us to leave.

"Do you know what is going on?" Alice asked when she sat beside me; her eyes were as big as saucers. She frantically glanced around, but there was no sign of what should happen in the next few minutes.

"I have no idea," I replied truthfully, watching Malin as he walked through the saloon's entrance and scanned the crowd.

There were thirteen of us inside, all seated on the couch or the chairs.

No one dared look him directly in the eyes, and when he slowly walked between us, we pierced the golden carpet with our gazes, all trying to act invisible.

"Are they all here?" A hostile voice made me cringe for the second time tonight, and I turned my head to the right to see the man responsible for this chaos.

"The last one," Dorian rumbled, throwing Travis inside the lounge. My boss's jacket was rumpled, his hair was messy, and his lower lip was busted. A blue bruise formed on his left cheek, and I covered my mouth to suppress any unnecessary voices. The situation was clearly worse than I thought.

"Great. Now, we're all here," the scariest of the brothers clapped his hands in front of his face, his lips curling into a diabolical grin, "my name is Zyon Zhumagulov, and I am the new owner of this place."

Gasps were heard everywhere. I was surprised, too, by this sudden change. We had a regular monthly meeting with the owner two days ago, and he didn't say a word about selling the business.

"Now that you know who's in charge, we can move to the next level," Zyon continued, folding his hands behind his back and pacing around the lounge, between the tables and chairs .

We were all staring at him in shock mixed with fear. The atmosphere was tense. A few girls sobbed silently while others just nervously wriggled or played with their uniforms or bracelets.

"We need to know where your former employer, Adam Rivers, disappeared to," Dorian announced, interrupting his brother, whose presence was like an elephant in the storage room.

He was crushing us with his dominance, forcing us to our knees.

It was overwhelming to just look at him and not bow our heads.

"We don't know where he is," Travis cried, hiding his face behind his trembling palms.

"No?" Zyon lifted an eyebrow at him; his gaze was sharp like a poisoned arrow straight into the soul. "In this room is his niece, mistress, and two men who played poker with him last night," he recited, tilting his head like a dog who heard something interesting. "Are you trying to fool me?"

Chills ran up my spine. I was at the edge of my seat because I couldn't imagine what he would possibly do if he found out someone was lying to him.

"N-n-no, sir," Travis stammered. His wretched face broke my heart. He didn't deserve this; none of us did.

"Then, I expect answers." Zyon shrugged, his falsely sweet voice ringing in my ears.

"And then we can all go home without harming your health or mental state.

" He looked around, relishing in the raw fear hanging in the air along with his words.

"Or we could do it the other, more entertaining way," he suggested, grinning when Malin brought a revolver, a baseball bat, and iron pliers and placed them at the roulette table for everyone to see.

Malin's eyes glowed with eagerness for some action, and for the first time, I saw something that could be interpreted as a smile on his lips.

Zyon winked at him with a maniacal expression that made my stomach twist with dread.

Yet, I couldn't look away from him. I was hypnotized by those dark eyes expressing excitement at the horrors ahead of us.

"Who is ready to play a game?"