Mafia Kings: Roberto: Dark Mafia Romance Series #5

I’ll say this for dinner: the food was excellent.

The company, on the other hand, was boring as hell.

Once Niccolo left, Han switched to the other side of the booth and said virtually nothing throughout the entire meal. I tried asking him a few questions about Lau and the Syndicate but quit when I got one-word answers in return.

It wasn’t until we finished eating that Han asked, “What would you like to do after dinner?”Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

“Go back to the hotel and sleep.”

“Mr. Lau would be severely disappointed with me if I didn’t do my best to entertain you.”

“Then he’ll have to be disappointed.”

Han gestured at the casino. “We’re already here. We might as well gamble.”

“I don’t gamble.”

Han raised one eyebrow. “Not at all?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The odds are always in the house’s favor. On a long enough timeline, everyone but the house loses, and I don’t like throwing my money away.”

“The house doesn’t participate in poker games other than as dealer,” Han said. “It’s only players. How about a few hands?”

“No, thank you.”

Han smirked. “You don’t know how to play, do you?”

I gave him a withering look. “I know how to play poker.”

“Then let’s play a few hands.”

“I’m not interested in playing in a tournament.”

“We can’t enter – it’s too late. I was thinking of one of the tables for the high rollers.”

“As I said before, I don’t like throwing my money away.”

“I’ll tell you what: the Syndicate has a line of credit here. I’ll have the casino front you $100,000 in chips. If you lose, you owe us nothing. Anything you win above $100,000, you keep. How about that?”

I could tell Han really wanted to play. This was probably one of the few perks of his job – cutting loose with clients, which included getting drunk and gambling.

The alternative was going back to my hotel suite and being alone.

Which, to be honest, sounded quite appealing at the moment.

However, I figured it might be advantageous to get on Han’s good side.

“If I lose, I owe you nothing… but I keep any winnings above $100,000,” I reiterated, wanting to make sure we were on the same page.

“Exactly.”

“…why the hell not, then.”

For the first time since we’d met, Han smiled. “Good.”

Han got $200,000 worth of chips from a cashier – 100K for him, 100K for me – and we joined a game of Texas Hold ‘Em at a high roller’s table.

Several of the players had already lost in the tournament and were looking for some rubes to hustle. They eagerly welcomed fresh meat.

I quickly saw I’d been right: this was the one time Han got to have fun on the job. He ordered a whisky and began betting aggressively.

I, on the other hand, stuck to soda water with a lime wedge and played very conservatively.

When I folded for the fifth time in a row during the first round of betting, Han asked incredulously, “Why do you keep folding?!”

“That’s the first rule of poker: fold early, fold often.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Making money is fun. Losing money isn’t.”

“But you don’t know if you’ll lose money this early in the betting. You could get lucky.”

“I don’t rely on luck, and I don’t care to test the odds when they’re against me.”

Han grumbled and ordered another whiskey.

On the eighth hand, I finally got cards I liked.

When I called his bet on the flop (the first three cards dealt face-up), Han looked at me with interest. “Oh, so now you’re playing.”

“The odds are in my favor.”

“Are they,” he said with a condescending smile.

“Yes, they are.”

I had a photographic memory for numbers, and I’d memorized the basic probabilities when I’d played with Adriano and Massimo in Monte Carlo years ago.

With the cards currently showing, I was in excellent shape.

On the turn – the fourth card dealt face-up – I bet $10,000.

The other players at the table folded. Now it was just me and Han.

He squinted at me. “I can’t tell if you’re bluffing or not.”

“I never bluff.”

He grinned. “Riiiiight.”

I stared him dead in the eyes. “I never bluff.”

He smirked. “Let’s find out. I see your 10 and raise you 20.”

I called his bet.

The river – the fifth face-up card – didn’t help me, but it didn’t hurt me, either.

“30,000,” Han said as he tossed in some chips.

“All in,” I said, pushing everything I had into the middle of the table.

Han stared at me, his eyes boring deep into mine as he tried to figure me out.

“I never bluff,” I reminded him.

“We’ll see. I call.”

He flipped over his cards: flush.

I flipped mine over.

Full house – three Queens and two Jacks.

I had known that my hand was the best possible. That had been the only reason I’d continued betting.

Han looked morose as I raked in all his money.

“I told you I never bluff,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah…” he grumbled.

Han got another $100,000 in chips and we continued playing.

Over the next two hours, I folded 36 out of 39 times. Most of the time, I folded on the first round of betting.

I won the other three hands and raked in $175,000.

“When are you going to believe me?” I asked Han.

“I believe you now,” he groaned. “You never bluff.”

I just smiled as I arranged my chips into piles.

When Han was on his sixth whiskey and third rack of chips, he said out of nowhere, “I’m bored with poker. What about you?”

“We can stop whenever you want.”

Even figuring in the $100,000 I had to pay back, I was up over $200,000 – more than half of Niccolo’s and my private flight to Hong Kong. A good night.

“Let’s cash out,” Han slurred.

We left the table immediately and went to the cashier’s.

I retained a small portion of my winnings in Hong Kong dollars just to have some walking-around money. The rest I took as a check for $227,510 US.

Once I’d pocketed my winnings, I looked at my watch.

11 PM Hong Kong time. Although it was only 5 PM back in Italy, I was starting to feel the weariness from my plane trip.

“What do you want to do now?” Han asked.

“Go back to my hotel room and sleep.”

“Come on – don’t be boring.”

“I pride myself on being boring.”

He snorted. “I can believe that. How about a nightclub?”

“Absolutely not.”

“There’s a couple of good strip clubs nearby.”

“No, thank you.”

Han looked around as though afraid he might be overheard, then leaned in close. “I know a couple of brothels we could go to.”

“Why are you whispering?”

Han smirked. “Because brothels are illegal in both Macau and Hong Kong.”

“Oh. No, I’m good, thank you.”

He frowned. “Are you into men?”

“No,” I snapped.

“Drugs?”

“No!”

“Then there’s nothing left.” He caught himself as though remembering something. “Well… except for De Sade.”

duh SAHD.

I froze.

The name was most likely a nod to the Marquis de Sade, a dissolute aristocrat who lived during the French Revolution and the Napoleonic era. For many years, he was imprisoned in an insane asylum. His perverse novels and plays scandalized French society, and his name became the source of the word ‘sadist.’

“What’s De Sade?” I asked.

Han cocked an eyebrow, amused by my reaction. “A BDSM club in Lan Kwai Fong – Hong Kong’s nightlife district. It’s pretty upscale, but it’s freaky.”

I stood there for a long moment, weighing what I should do.

I knew what the wise choice would be…

But I ultimately decided against it.

“I wouldn’t mind taking a look,” I said. Then I added hastily, “Purely out of curiosity.”

Han grinned and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “I don’t give a fuck. Let’s go!”