Spark (Web of Desire Book 1) by Aleatha Romig

Author:Aleatha Romig [Romig, Aleatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Romig Works LLC
Published: 2020-01-13T18:30:00+00:00

HILLMAN HAS ARRIVED.

Madeline

My gaze went from the five cards in my hand to the other five players. There was only one player from my table last night, Mr. Daniels. I’d done my research and found him to be personally as boring as his online persona. I also didn’t consider him to be much of a threat.

The other four players were new to me, in person. I knew their online personas by heart. However, it was in person that gave me the advantage. In our short time of play, I was deciphering my newer opponents’ tells. Mr. Garcia, a local businessman, took a sip of his rum and coke each time he was unsure. A healthy hand and his glass remained untouched. Mr. Robertson, who had traveled from England where he owned manufacturing houses worth billions, was subtler. He had a very slight sway to the left when the cards fell the way he wanted, as opposed to his total statuesque stillness when they didn’t. That left Dr. Bolton, a doctor from the West Coast. Some might consider him a manic, a player who does a lot of hyper-aggressive raising and betting. I hadn’t decided if he was a good player or simply a gambler at heart.

What was important was that the stack of chips before me was growing.

I’d changed my strategy from last night. During our drinks, Marion Elliott had mentioned how others were talking about the lady with a bigger reputation than deserved. That didn’t bother me. Let them all underestimate me. However, if I were to play with the big boys on Saturday night, I needed the tall stack, the assets that came with accumulated funds.

Keeping status quo may have allowed me to make the first cut, it might even make tonight’s. However, if I continued that strategy and continued to advance, in the final round I wouldn’t have the betting power to win. It went without saying that each of the final six players would come into play with a tall stack of chips.

The pretournament drinks had yielded other interesting tidbits of information. Marion ended last night’s play with over two hundred grand, over 150 more than I. He hadn’t mentioned it as a way to boast but more casually, as if he were surprised such a night’s small earnings had landed him in the first-place spot.

He jokingly accused me and others of sandbagging. While I laughed it off, that was exactly what I had been doing. I wasn’t any longer.

The current bet came to me. The ante had been five grand and so was the first bet. I could call at five grand. We still had our original five cards; there was a draw still to come.

Marion Elliott didn’t accumulate two hundred grand with minuscule $5000 bets. It was time to up my game.

Flashing a smile, I moved my gaze around the table.

The hand I’d been dealt was weak, but as with any one, there was potential:

7, 8, 8, J, Q

Odds would tell me to keep the pair of eights.

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