Chapter 3
Chapter 3
“Aryal” Malcolm nearly fell over himself standing up when he saw her, eyes wide behind his gold rimmed glasses. “What the hell–you’re here?
Her gaze hit him like a blast of arctic air, cold and sharp, sending a shiver down his spine for no reason he could pin down
Last night, he’d only paid to get Xinyan back from the kidnappers–not Arya: ‘So how is she standing right in front of me, cool as ice?‘ he wondered.
And that look in her eyes? The girl he used to think was some hagile pushover was staring him down like she could snap him in half it wasn’t just intense -it was downright deadly
Then he clocked the two reporters behind her, cameras ready, and his gut twisted. This was bad news.
Sure enough, Arya opened her mouth, voice smooth but frosty, “Malcolm, we’re done. The off this engagement.
“Oh, and one more thing–how about a little bet?”
She sounded almost lazy, like she was half bored, but there was this edge to her words, like she already had him beat and was just waiting for him to
catch up.
Malcolm’s face went dark. He’d been planning to ditch Arya himself, no doubt about it
But her jumping the gun–and with reporters in tow? That was a kick to his ego. No way was he gonna be the guy who got dumped.
“I’m the one who cuts girls loose, not the other way around, he thought.
He didn’t even try to hide his sneer. “Arya, I’m done with you. Six months, and I can’t even get a damn hug? What’s your deal, still playing the goody–two- shoes virgin?”
His polished charm was nowhere in sight, just raw disgust. “Oh, and let’s not forget–your family’s broke as hell. What’re you even bringing to the table?”
What Malcolm didn’t know was that the moment Arya stepped into the flashy casino, those reporters had gone live, cameras rolling
Every nasty word out of his mouth was being broadcast to the world, and the internet was tearing him apart.
The comment section was a warzone
[No way! Malcolm’s this much of a sleaze?)
[Girls, we gotta dodge guys like him!]
[So you were just with Arya to get laid? Gross.]
King of the dirtbags!)
Arya didn’t even blink. She just gave him a slow, icy stare, her eyes calm as a frozen pond. “Pick your poison, Malcolm. You man enough to bet me?”
Malcolm leaned in close, his voice dropping to a slimy whisper right by her ear. “Oh, you’re on, sweetheart,
“You lose, you’re all mine. Or your knees, doing whatever I say. How’s that sound?”
His eyes glinted with that smug. player vibe, like he thought he was untouchable.
Classic jerk move–always chasing what’s out of reach, even with Eloise already on his arm
d her head, her perfect brows arching into a smirk that could freeze fire. “And when you lose?”
Arya tilted i
Malcolm let out a cocky laugh. “Me? Lose?Name your price, babe.”
Chapter 3
Thirty million bucks, Arya shot back, her eyes glinting like len, a dark, electile aura practically crackling around her. “Ples, I want you groveling, ber me to let you off the hook!”
Her words were bold, borderline crazy, but man, every move she made every tilt of her head, every flicker of her gaze–dripped with raw, irresistible-
charm.
The live stream chat went absolutely wild.
[OMG, Arya’s a freaking queen
When a woman’s this fierce, guys don’t stand a chance]
[She’s gorgeous and a total badass–Malcoln’s way out of his depth]
Malcolm cocked an eyebrow, all swagger. “You got yourself a deal.
In his head. Arya was already done for
Their heated standoff was turning heads, pulling in a
in a crowd of curious gamblers itching for some juicy drama.
Sure, women weren’t rare in a casino, but someone like Arya–young drop–dead gorgeous, and radiating this untouchable vibe? That was a whole different story.
And the real kicker? She was Malcolm’s fiancée
Malcolm was the golden boy of Norrian Club, a gambling wizard who won nine out of ten bets like it was a walk in the park. People were practically worshipping him as the new King of Gambling
He figured he’d crush Arya without even trying
“So, Arya,” he said with a lazy, taunting grin, “how we doing this?”
Arya’s stare could’ve frozen lava. “Keep it simple, big shot. Dick. Guess the points. Best of three.”
Off to the side, a tall, commanding figure strolled in, flanked by a crew of stone–faced guys in black suits.
Finn, the man leading the pack, was a walking masterpiece–sharp black suit tailored to perfection, a face so chiseled it looked like it belonged on a
statue
His expression gave nothing away, but the icy, dangerous energy rolling off him dropped the room’s temperature by ten degrees. His entrance alone was enough to make the casino feel like a freezer.
“Mr. Barnett,” Robert, scrambling to keep up, was all sweaty smiles and nervous energy. “Our casino’s the best in town–top–of–the–line gear, killer service, and we play by the rules.
“Но
one under eighteen gets through these doors.”
Finn let out a low, sarcastic chuckle, his razor–sharp eyes cutting through the crowd to zero in on the stunning young woman facing off with Malcol
A slow, dangerous smirk curled his lips. “Then how the hell is she standing there?”
Robert followed Finn’s gaze and nearly choked of his own spit.
Malcolm stirring up chaos at the casino? Just another Tuesday. But Arya, his fiancée, strutting through the doors like she owned the place? That threw Robert for a loop.
Robert blinked, confused. ‘Wasn’t she supposed to be recovering in the hospital? Mr. Barnett’s orders were crystal clear‘
The vibe between them was electric, like a storm about to break.
Chapter 3
And hold up–Arya’s already eighteen, right?‘ he thought.
“Four twos,” Malcolm tossed out, his smirk streaming he’d already bagged the win.
The dealer’s dice clinked to a stop, and Arya, lounging back all cool and casual, flicked her eyes toward Malcolm, who was acting like he owned the tabla.
Her face was pure fire–gorgeous in a way that could stop hearts. Malcolm swallowed hard, trying to keep his chill. “Tive twos,” he shot back, voice thick with cocky vibes.
In his mind, he’d been working casinos for years, and no way was some rookie like Arya gonna school him.
Sure enough, when the dealer flipped open the dice cup, there it was–live twos, smacking him right in the ego.
Malcolm let out a smug chuckle. “Arya, you’re screwed.”
Arya didn’t even twitch. “Hold off on the victory dance, champ,” she said, her voice icy and sharp enough to slice through his bravado.
That sassy tone? It got Malcolm’s blood boiling.
Round two was on.
Arya had these delicate, almost fairy–like ears, and her hearing was straight–up unreal
༢ ན་
She’d been catching every little sound since she was a kid, like she had some kind of sonic superpower.
That last round? She’d thrown it on purpose, just to yank his chain.
“Five sixes,” she called, smooth as silk as the dice hit the table.
A quick flash of cold confidence sparked in her eyes before she leaned back. “Ball’s in your court, tough guy.”
Malcolm lit a cigarette, taking a slow, dramatic drag and blowing smoke like he was the king of cool. “Four sixes,” he said, his grin practically shouting game over.
But when the dealer opened the cup, his face went stiff as a board. Five sixes
“No freaking way, he thought.
The crowd around them was losing it, muttering and elbowing wh other.
They’d all pegged Arya as done for, but now? She’d just wiped the floor with him in round two.
Now they thought maybe she wasn’t just some arm candy with no game.
Arya locked eyes with Malcolm, whose face was darker than a storm cloud. Her lips curled into a wicked, taunting smirk. “Guess you’re the one choking on this one,” she said, her voice dripping with shade.
Malcolm’s jaw clenched, her cocky attitude hitting him like a slap. “Arya,” he growled, “I’m gonna have you crying for mercy.”
Round three was the dealbreaker, and the whole place was humming with excitement. Every gambler in the joint had packed in tight, itching to see who’d come out on top.
Arya’s gaze slid over Malcolm’s pale, pinched face, her eyes deep and unreadable. She flashed a sly, dangerous half–smile. “Why don’t you kick things off this time, big shot?”
