Page 94 of Restless Hawke

It looks an awful lot like fear.

“You know why…”

I lean forward slightly across the table. “Do I? I think you’re going to have to remind me because all I know is that I went to bed with my arm wrapped around you and my dick still buried inside your cunt, but when I woke up, the sheets were cold, and you had left that note like a goddamn calling card from an assassin.”

She winces, and I immediately regret how that came out, but not the words because they’re all true.

That note was the ultimatefuck youto me.

A slap in the face after what we shared that night.

I introduced her to the entire family. She played board games with Vivi and Charlotte after dinner and melted into the fabric of our Sunday night so easily that it almost seemed as if she were meant to be there all along. Then what we shared at my place after…

And she justleft.

She releases a long sigh as the waiter slides my drink onto the table and takes the empty glass from me. “Anything for you, miss?”

Allegra shakes her head. “No. I’m good. Thank you.”

He moves away from the table, and I shift back slightly, almost afraid to get close to her again. Even this slab of wood between us doesn’t seem like enough to stop me from doing something stupid, like lunging across it and smashing my mouth against hers.

“Look, Coen, I know you think this is all a game?—”

My spine snaps straight at her words, her attempt to shift the perception of what went down, and I snort, shaking my head. “Isn’t it? You sought me out in Atlantic City. You played me like a fucking fiddle. Then again, in Monaco and Macau. Then you show up in New Orleans acting like…” I search for the right way to explain how it felt to see her at Hawke Hotel, for what happened in that penthouse. “I don’t know. Like maybe something had changed, and I thought it did that night.” Shoving my hand back through my hair, I shake my head, looking away from her and out over the now still lagoon that will be filled with another show in only half an hour. “Maybe it was naïve to believe that someone like you isn’talwaysplaying a game.”

“You were playing one, too.”

Her soft accusation makes me grit my jaw, and I turn back to face her.

“You’re not wrong, Allegra. I was.Wasbeing the operative word. That changed for me because I thought it had for you. Especially after dinner with my family…”

She averts her gaze—unable to or unwilling to look at me.

Or maybe because she fears what her eyes will reveal.

I asked her to be honest with me.

Told her I needed that.

And she let me take her in that bed over and over again that night. Knowing damn well what I expected in return when we woke in the morning. And rather than give it to me, sheran.

“All I want is to be able to trust you, Allegra. And if you can’t give me that, then…”

I let my words trail off because I don’t really want to say them. Even the thought of actually saying it feels like acid crawling up my throat.

She fiddles with the napkin again, considering my words. “It’s complicated, Coen.”

Leaning forward, I drop my voice and lower my head until she’s forced to meet my gaze. “No, it isn’t. Either you’re with me because you want to fuck with my head at the table or you’re with me because you want to fuck me…and maybe more. Those are the only two options.”

She releases a heavy sigh, a pink blush rising across her cheeks. “You know it’s the latter.”

I raise a brow at her. “Is it? Because you’re here in Las Vegas when one of the biggest poker tournaments in the world is being held at the Venetian. One you knew I was playing in and that you promised you wouldn’t. So, did you come here to talk to me, or did you come here to play?”

Her shoulders tense.

It’s all the answer I need.

“That’s what I thought.” I huff back into my chair again and take a long sip of my drink. “You know damn well the two of us should not be at a table together, Allegra. It isn’t fair.”