Page 32 of The Wicked

Tilting my head a bit to the side, I asked, “What’s the catch?”

With his eyes still on me, he signaled to the soldier who held the briefcase, and the man stepped forward, opening it. I almost doubled over at the sight of the clean stacked bundle of cash arranged perfectly in a mouthwatering way.

Fucking greed.

Elio straightened. “We play five single rounds. Best-of-five winner takes your earnings for the night and the briefcase.”

It took a lot of willpower to drag my eyes from the money.

It was risky; we could lose all we’d earned tonight if I agreed.

“And if I don’t agree?”

His jaw clenched, and he paused two seconds before taking a step closer to me. I sucked in a breath, raising my chin a little so I could meet his gaze as he buried both hands into his pockets and gave me that degrading look again, the one where it seemed like I was only a grain of rice on his shoe.

“Allow me to reiterate,Sport.You do not have achoicein this proposal.”

“Fuck,” Dog cursed.

I stepped closer to Elio, looking up at him with determination.

“If that’s the case, allow me to add a new catch.”

His gaze flickered between my eyes. “What would that be?”

“A chance to renegotiate the terms of my and my people’s service to you.”

He thought about it for only a few seconds before nodding. “Okay. I would also like to add acatch.”

“I’m listening.”

“I get to tie you up, shoot your good shoulder and kneecaps, and then throw you off that roof. In simpler words, I kill you.”

I didn’t flinch.

Devil shook his head. “Zahra, don’t—”

“Deal.”

Elio’s eyes widened a bit, and I briefly saw surprise in them before it was masked with indifference.

He exited my personal space, and I let my breathing flow freely once more.

Straightening his suit, Elio outstretched his hand in the direction behind me. “Very well. Let’s play.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Elio

The silence was deafening.

Beyond ridiculouswas the perfect way to describe my actions. The chess, the bargain. It was out of character. I never behaved this way. I never stooped to such levels to allow myself an opportunity to kill someone.

Never once had I tried to prove to myself and some amateur that she couldn’t undermine me. Her little warning on the rooftop grated on me. It was a petty feeling. Immature. It shouldn’t matter. But it did.

Maybe that was the reason I was pissed. She had snuck right underneath my skin. She compelled a wave of unnecessary anger from me, and the distaste of that feeling was far from appreciated.

She had no right to mess with my focus the way she did, and now cheating in my casino, gambling with thievery. It was egregious.