The Color of Her Lips

Chapter Five

Michael

"Man, she's never gonna agree," Carlos tells me as we walk toward AriasCasino. He's kind of my favorite buddy.

"Shut up, don't jinx it."

"I'm just saying, chill out."

"Don't tell me to chill out."

He chuckles. "Geez, one can really tell you're a boss. Why are so nervous?"

I glare at him. "I am not." He knows me so well, shit.

"You are. You're nervous because you're afraid she gonna turn it down?"

"I said I am not nervous, Carlos." I start walking faster, taking long strides.

"I know when you are nervous, Michael," he mocks me.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you."

I roll my eyes at him. 'Fuck you' is our way of saying 'I love you'.

We've just arrived in front of the AriasCasino. There's a red carpet leading to the doors, and you can see through glass panels the people playing. It's a very classy and chic place, more attractive than mine I must admit. They've reopened a week ago, I heard they've made some restructuring and now it's wonderful from the outside. Even more so when we walk inside.

I look around and I see a lot of women betting on their money and playing. This casino is famous for its high women presence. There're a lot of beautiful woman, the youngest are twenty-one probably.

"Carlos, you look for a blonde bob, I look for crimson lips," I tell him.

"There're lots of crimson lips," he says.

"I mean Ariana's crimson lips, dumb ass."

"Oh yeah."

I shake my head and laugh.

We start looking around, we look like two FBI agents. Since they're not here, we decide to go grab a drink at the lounge bar of the casino. Two barmen ask for our ID cards and then they serve us our drinks. Whiskey.

"Excuse me," I call the barman, "is Miss Quinn here?" I ask him.

"Yes, she's in the private gambling hall."

"Could I talk to her?"

He shrugs. "She's teaching her sister how to play, I could go and ask her if you could talk to her."

"That's perfect."

"Your name, Sir?"

"Michael Leonardo DeAngelis," I tell him, and he disappears behind a door.

Suddenly Carlos taps me on the shoulder. "I found the blonde bob, is that her?"

"Yeah, Kimberly Dean."

"She's beautiful, I'm going to talk to her. See you later," and he walks away.

The barman comes back and tells me to follow him. He leads me to the same door he disappeared behind earlier. "She's in here," he says.

I step in the room. The floor is covered in a black carpet, the walls are the same color as Ariana's lips, crimson. There're three roulette's tables, two poker tables, one trente-et-quarante table, slot machines... it's like a mini casino.

Then I see her. She's putting the fiches in their place again. She's sitting on the table, counting the fiches while drinking a Manhattan. I think she hasn't noticed my presence.

"Mr. DeAngelis, you like this place?" Oh, she has instead.

I take a few steps toward her. "It's nice, but can we stop calling each other that?"

"What?" she says, and looks up at me with her deep green eyes, her crimson lips curving up in a smile.

"Mr. and Miss.," I say. "It's ridiculous."

She hops off the table and leans against it, takes a sip of her drink and says, "It's not ridiculous, it's professional."

Professional.

"Even carrying your sister to her bed is professional, right?" I say.

She chuckles. "That was a one time thing, Michael. It won't happen again."

"You call me by my first name now? Good, Ariana, good." I quote her.

"What you wanted to talk about?" she asks, because she probably doesn't know how to retort to what I said.

I take a sip of my drink and lick my lips. "Right. Who owns this place now?"

"Me. And it's not on sale," she says firmly looking into my eyes, then looks away.

"I don't want to buy it," I reassure her.

"What then?"

I inch a little closer to her. "I want to help you."

She looks at me and scoffs. "Help me?"

"Yeah. We could melt our business together and create a big one," I explain. "We could help each other to handle it."

She takes a sip of her drink. "I don't need your help."

"Think about it."

"I said I don't need your help."

"We could make twice the money together," I tell her.

"I don't care about money," she says. "We're rivals, enemies. Why would you want to help me?" She now is just a few inches away from me.

My breathing becomes labored all of a sudden. Her face being so close to me does things to my body.

"I don't trust you," she tells me. She has her chin lift up defiantly.

"You should trust me."

"You want to trap me."

"I do not."

"You want to fool me."

"You're fooling me, Ariana."

"Oh, really, Michael?" she whispers, her lips an inch apart from mine. "I'm sorry, I didn't do it on purpose," and she steps away.

I want her sassy mouth on mine so bad now. Little bitch. She did do it on purpose.

"The talk is over, it was nice to see you, Mr. DeAngelis," she says, with that sarcastic tone of hers that makes me wanna shut her mouth with my dick.

"See you around, Miss Quinn."