Page 70 of Gambler's Conceit

Caleb huffs a small laugh. “I certainly did. What about you, Seven? Did you enjoy that?”

Seven nods, his expression distant. “Mhm,” he murmurs. “It was… It was good.” His voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat. It doesn’t do much good, though, as it stays raspy when he says, “Need a nap now.”

“Sure. Havoc, can you go order food for all of us? I’ll help Seven out of the bath and into bed,” Caleb says.

I nod, grateful for the small reprieve to gather my thoughts. I wipe myself down and force myself back into my clothes. The jeans have wet spots, and somehow one of my socks got soaked, but I don’t care.

I rush out of the bathroom and call the hotel kitchen, not caring what food they send up.

With nothing else to do, I end up on the couch. Nacho jumps into my lap and rubs his head against my hand. When I don’t react, he meows.

“Fine,” I mutter, stroking his head. He starts purring loudly.

That’s how Caleb finds me when he exits his bedroom, dressed in a suit and his hair properly combed.

“You’re an asshole,” I say without vitriol.

Caleb smiles. “I never pretended otherwise. But don’t blame me for how much you got off on that.”

No, it isn’t his fault at all. I’ve always been like this.

I’ve always been cut from the same cloth as my fucking stepfather.

I meet his gaze. “I need a place to stay. You have any empty apartments somewhere in the city I can rent on my salary?”

Caleb purses his lips. “I might be able to find something. Although are you sure you want your housing to be in my hands, too?”

He has a point, but at this point, I don’t give a shit anymore. “Yeah, it’s fine. You already own the rest of me, apparently. Making me do shit like this.”

I don’t like Caleb’s answering smile. “Oh, Havoc. I haven’t made you do anything yet. If you truly don’t like what I’m asking, you need to run while you still can.”

I really should.

But I don’t want to leave Seven with him.

My hands flex, remembering how I’d held Seven’s throat.

Caleb doesn’t get to claim sole ownership of Seven.

SEVENTEEN

SEVEN

I don’t knowwhat’s wrong with me.

I should be feeling better, but instead, I feel ten times worse as I trudge down into the casino—alone, because Caleb, Vortex, and Havoc are all working. It’s not late enough in the day for the drag queens to be here yet, and even if they were, I haven’t gottenpermissionfrom Caleb to visit them yet.

Besides, Linda will be there, and I don’t trust her.

Maybe I can talk Vortex into bringing me back tonight. Maybe that would ease some of this mood… but I don’t want to see him. Not after how thoroughly he rejected me after pushing and pushing and learning more about me than I’d wanted to tell him.

I’m sure he’s told Caleb by now, but Caleb hasn’t asked me anything.

Yet.

I walk to the blackjack table, steeling myself for more of the same torture that I get every time I get there. The dealers recognize me by now, and when there aren’t any others at the table, they even engage in conversation with me around my near-constant losses.

“Honey,” Madeline says as I plant my ass in the chair closest to her, “Maybe you should try a different game. Blackjack just might not be for you.”