"Not so fast," I said, slapping Conrad's hand away as he tried to hold mine. He pouted and retracted his hand, rubbing it to soothe the sting.

"And I thought I was the violent one," he muttered with a smile, nodding to guests who greeted him as we glided through the crowd.

"You're pretty popular," I mused as another couple greeted him. This time, the man pulled him in for a hug.

Conrad hugged the man back warmly, exchanging a few words before turning his attention back to me. "Old friends," he explained. "We go way back."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? How far back?"

"High school," he said.

"You're kidding me right?" I grabbed his arm and turned him to see if he was serious. "He looks older than my father and he's 60!"

Conrad laughed, throwing his head back. "Yeah, I'm kidding. But he's... an old acquaintance," he hesitated before answering. I didn't pry more and returned my attention to the diverse crowd.

"Oh shit," Conrad cursed beside me, suddenly stiffening. "Don't say a word and just follow me. Be quick." I followed his line of sight to see Skye approaching us with a bright smile on her face. Conrad grabbed my hand, and this time, I didn't resist.

"Why?" I asked, curious as to why he wanted to play hide and seek with his mother.

"Do you want to go to the cool people party or not?" he asked, swiftly guiding us through the crowd and occasionally turning back to ensure his mother wasn't following us. I tried to keep up with his speed. Well, sort of.

"Of course I do," I answered, almost tripping on my dress.

"Then keep up," he said, clearly serious.

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Flatfoot. I'm in heels," I retorted, gathering the front of my gown and pointing at my limited edition rose gold heels. They were a good investment, their crystals sparkling under the bright chandeliers.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing behind me. "She's catching up. Take them off."

"Pardon?" I wasn't going to walk barefoot among all these people. I couldn't afford a fashion crisis. I was a designer, for God's sake.

"Take them off or I'll carry you."

"Alright, alright, I'll take them off," I conceded, sliding off my precious shoes. "Now what?"

Conrad's eyes darted around the room, scanning for an escape route. "Now we run," he said, tightening his grip on my hand. Barefoot and clutching my heels, I took a deep breath and sprinted after him. Conrad weaved through the crowd with ease, his movements quick and fluid. I did my best to keep up, dodging people and obstacles in our path.

"Where are we going?" I panted, trying to match his pace.

"Just trust me," he called back over his shoulder, leading us toward a side door. Once out the door, my feet hit the earth—quite literally. The soft mud flew behind me as we ran through the garden, dodging around fountains and manicured shrubs. I looked over my shoulder at the mess we had made, our footprints evidence of our little escape. I followed Conrad quietly, in awe of his certainty and speed. He led me down a flowery path, the scent of blossoms filling the air, until we reached a small tunnel hidden among the greenery.

We ducked into the tunnel, its cool, damp air a sharp contrast to the warm night outside. Conrad guided me through, his hand steady on mine, until we emerged on the other side in a secluded courtyard and then a wooden door that stood in the front of us. The night was silent here, the party noise now a distant murmur.

"Is this the part where you take me into a dark room and kill me?" I asked, panting, trying to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.

Conrad shook his head with a smile, his chest shaking as he laughed. He threw an arm around my slumped shoulders. "This," he said, looking into my eyes and then at the door, "is the part you thank me for saving you from that nightmare."

I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest. "The real nightmare is being stuck with you." I teased.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Let's get you to that cool people party, shall we?" He opened the wooden door and led us inside. Heels in one hand and my dress bunched up in the other, I followed Conrad as he navigated through a maze of corridors until we finally reached a set of double doors.

"This is it," He said shrugging his shoulders.

With a flourish, he pushed the doors open, revealing a vibrant scene beyond. The room was alive—though there were only about eight people, including us. Laughter mingled with music as colorful lights danced across the rustic decor of the big sitting area. I felt a rush of excitement mixed with nerves.

The walls were adorned with vintage art, and cozy seating arranged in clusters invited conversation. A small bar in the corner served creative cocktails, and a few people were already engaged in animated discussions. I glanced around, trying to take it all in.

"Finally, you decided to show," the man Conrad had been speaking with earlier said, his voice smooth but edged with mockery. He rose from the bar, whisky sloshing in his glass, and stepped closer, revealing a fresh scar beneath his chin. "So, who's the unfortunate woman stuck with you?"

I chuckled but quickly morphed it into a cough when I caught Conrad's glare.

"I see you talked to the mystery girl," another man said from the large U-shaped couch in the center of the room. He leaned forward, running a hand through his hair, and placed a deck of cards on the table. It was only when he leaned back that I noticed a woman beside him, looking a bit nervous and just as lost as I felt. Conrad groaned.

"I'm Thea." I shook the man's hand firmly, a warm smile spreading across my face.

"Thea," they all chimed in unison, their teasing tones varying playfully, creating a lighthearted atmosphere.

"Yes, Thea," Conrad deadpanned, his dark hair slightly tousled and his deep blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He stood out in his crisp suit jacket, looking sharp while the others had removed theirs, revealing casual button-ups underneath.

"Hey, don't kill the mood. Thea, I'm Spencer." He spoke up, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he grinned widely. "And over there are Miles and Elise." He gestured to a couple settled on the couch. Miles had short, wavy black hair and was dressed casually in a fitted shirt, while Elise, with her long, straight hair cascading over her shoulders, smiled brightly and waved back at me, her blue eyes shining with warmth.

"Trevor and Valerie," Spencer continued, pointing to a pair at the kitchen counter. Trevor had a strong jawline and dark hair, his fitted shirt rolled up at the sleeves, nodding at me with a friendly glint in his brown eyes. Valerie was pulling hot pizzas from the oven, her light brown hair tied up in a messy bun, a playful apron saving her simple dress. With a mouthful of pizza, she managed a wave, laughter sparkling in her hazel eyes as Trevor rolled his eyes good-naturedly at her enthusiasm.

"And I'm Ryan." He stepped forward, his dark hair neatly styled and his shirt casually unbuttoned at the collar. He offered me a glass of champagne, and we clinked our glasses together. As I took a sip, the bubbly sweetness danced on my tongue, and I felt myself settling into the lively dynamic of the room.

"Welcome to Poker Night," Conrad said, bumping my shoulder playfully as he took off his suit jacket and draped it over a chair. His navy blue dress shirt had a few unbuttoned buttons at the top, revealing a hint of his chiseled chest and the intricate tattoo I had noticed when we first met—a fierce dragon wrapping around his collarbone. He rolled up his sleeves, showcasing his muscular, tanned arms, each movement highlighting the veins that ran down to his strong hands. He placed one of those warm hands on my lower back, the touch both firm and reassuring, as he guided me to the plush, leather sofa.

I neatly placed my heels against the wall, feeling the cool air on my bare feet before stepping onto the soft, plush carpet. I dusted off my feet, savoring the sensation of the fibers between my toes. The room was cozy, lit by the soft glow of a few strategically placed lamps, creating an inviting atmosphere perfect for a night of cards and camaraderie. The scent of rich, smoky cologne mingled with the faint aroma of leather and the distant sound of shuffling cards brought a smile to my face.

"This is a guesthouse on the estate grounds. We used to sneak out of our parents' parties to come play here as kids," Conrad whispered in my ear as we sunk into the couch, his breath is hot against my ear.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," I whispered back, taking a sip of my champagne.

I leaned against the couch, taking a steadying breath as Ryan began, "Ladies, before we start, don't worry about the money. You see, as per the rules, the gentleman is supposed to sponsor you. So give them a run for their money."

"Sponsor us?" I asked, my confusion evident.

"Yes." He smiled, casually distributing the chips. "Since it's your first time playing with the boys, we'll start small. Fifty thousand per hand."

I choked, my heart racing. He was joking, right? I glanced around the room, searching for reassurance, but Valerie and Elise mirrored my shock, their expressions wide-eyed.

Ryan pressed on, "And we double every ten games."

As I struggled to process this whirlwind of information, Conrad threw an arm around my shoulders, rubbing them gently to draw my gaze.

I had only ever played poker for fun, indulging in the occasional game with friends and family ; this felt like madness. The stakes were low, and the atmosphere was relaxed. I enjoyed the thrill of bluffing and the camaraderie that came with each hand dealt. The strategic moves and playful rivalries were enjoyable, but I had never experienced the high-stakes tension of a serious game. My experience was limited, and according to my mom, I was the worst player at the table.

Even my dog sat at the table.

"Don't worry. I got you," he said, his tone confident.

"No, Conrad. You can't. It's too much. I think I just want to sit and watch you—"

"Shhh. Relax." He placed his fingers softly against my lips, silencing me. If he came any closer I would lose my bloody mind.

"You're my date. It's only fair if you let me take care of you. Besides, I still have to compensate for earlier. I promised you'd have a good time after all." The way he speaks is smooth, his voice low and magnetic, promising adventure and danger. A thrill coursed through me.

"Trust me, soon you'll realize that what we gamble isn't the money. It's power, desire, and a game where the stakes are higher than you ever imagined."

His words hung in the air, and despite my apprehension, a spark of excitement ignited within me. As he leaned back in his seat, a casual confidence radiated from him.

"Let me take care of this," he said, sliding a stack of chips my way. His gaze lingered on me, and in that moment, the world outside faded. I was captivated, caught between the excitement of the game and the allure of the man who played by his own rules.

He was right about one thing: the stakes just got a lot higher.

And I was ready to gamble my heart.

END OF CHAPTER TEN: ALL-IN
2030 words

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