High Stakes Love

Chapter 1

Adrian

Every game starts the same way.

The shuffle of cards, the rattle of chips, the low hum of tension in the air. I control the room before the first bet is placed. Every flick of my wrist, every casual glance, reminds them who owns this table.

Tonight’s no different. A finance major across from me—the kid can’t be older than nineteen—is already sweating through his shirt. He glances at his cards like they might save him. They won’t.

I lean back in my chair, cool and unbothered, twirling a poker chip between my fingers. “Raise,” I say, tossing another hundred into the pot. The kid flinches, and I smirk. Too easy.

“You’re playing with your food again,” Jacob mutters from his seat beside me. He’s not playing tonight, just watching, his whiskey glass half-empty in his hand. His tone is amused, like it always is when I’m in the zone.

“What can I say?” I reply, my voice low and lazy. “They keep lining up for it.”

Jacob chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

The finance kid folds—of course—and I rake in the pot with a practiced grin. Another small victory to add to my pile. But then, just as the dealer starts the next round, the atmosphere shifts.

“Cocky, aren’t we?”

The voice is smooth, cutting through the room like a knife. I glance up, my hand pausing mid-reach.

She’s standing near the doorway, her silhouette sharp against the dim lighting. Her eyes—dark, calm, and completely unreadable—lock onto mine like she’s already sizing me up.

“Depends who’s asking,” I say, leaning forward just enough to get a better look.

Her lips quirk into the faintest smile, and she steps closer, her heels clicking against the floor. The room is silent now, every pair of eyes following her as she moves.

“Renee Foster,” she says, her voice steady. She pulls a set of poker chips from her bag, placing them on the table with a deliberate motion. “I heard this was the table to beat. Thought I’d see if the rumors were true.”

There’s a ripple of murmurs around the room, but I don’t react. I don’t give her the satisfaction.

Instead, I tilt my head, studying her. She’s got the kind of confidence that most people fake but never pull off. It’s in the way she stands, the way she meets my gaze without flinching.

“You play?” I ask, keeping my tone casual.

Her smile widens, just a fraction. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The dealer looks at me, waiting for my call. I wave him on. “Deal her in.”

Jacob laughs softly beside me, swirling his whiskey. “This is going to be fun,” he says, more to himself than anyone else.

The first hand hits the table, and I barely glance at my cards. It doesn’t matter what I’m holding—not yet. The real game is just starting, and it’s not about the cards. It’s about her.

Renee picks up her cards, her face perfectly composed. No tells, no flickers of emotion. That alone is impressive. Most people give themselves away without realizing it—an anxious tap of the finger, a twitch of the mouth. But her? She’s a blank slate.

The guy next to her—some econ major I’ve seen here before—folds immediately, muttering something about not taking risks. Amateur.

I raise by a hundred, throwing the chips into the pot with a flick of my wrist. “Your move,” I say, meeting her gaze.

She doesn’t hesitate. “Call.”

The next card flips, and I glance at my hand. A king of hearts. Solid, but not unbeatable. I raise again, pushing the pot higher.

Renee matches me without a word. Her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes now—a spark of challenge.

“You’re calm,” I say, leaning back slightly. “You always this steady, or are you just trying to impress me?”

Her lips twitch, like she’s holding back a laugh. “I don’t need to impress you.”

I grin, unable to help myself. She’s good. Better than I expected.

The final card flips—a nine of spades. I glance at my hand, calculating the odds. A straight. It’s not the strongest hand I’ve ever had, but it’s enough.

I push the rest of my chips into the pot. “All in,” I say, my voice calm, even.

The room goes still. Everyone’s watching her now, waiting to see what she’ll do.

Renee doesn’t blink. She pushes her chips forward, matching my bet. “All in.”

Damn.

The dealer flips her cards first. A flush, queen high.

The room erupts in murmurs, but all I can hear is the pounding in my chest. She just beat me.

I lay my cards down, and her eyes flick to them briefly before she starts collecting the pot. Her movements are steady, unhurried, like this is just another Tuesday night for her.

“Nice hand,” I say, forcing a grin.

“Thanks,” she replies, her voice polite but distant.

Jacob is grinning like a Cheshire cat beside me. “Well, this is new,” he says, raising his glass in a mock toast.

“Don’t start,” I mutter, leaning back in my chair.

But as I watch Renee gather her chips, I can’t help the flicker of curiosity in the back of my mind. She’s not like anyone else who’s walked into this room. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not entirely sure what my next move should be.