Fate

Chapter Sixty Nine

Word Count: 1377

​Fate tried to focus his mind on the man sitting before his desk, but, no matter how hard he looked, he could see nothing.

​He gripped the sides of his chair and pushed to standing, feeling too unnerved to sit still. "We're very glad to have you, Mr. Belvedere," he said, pacing the length of his large office. "We'd like to make your stay with us as pleasant as we can. We can provide you with a luxury suite, a car, and driver at your disposal, and all your meals in any of our restaurants. All compliments of The Fates, of course."

​Belvedere was shaking his head. "That won't be necessary."

​Fate paused for a moment, surprised. He cleared his throat, recovering. "I assume you're here for the poker tournament. We are completely full, but I'll ask my staff to add your name, of course. They'll have you seated at my table—"

​"Again," Belvedere said in his gravelly voice, "not necessary."

​Now Fate was truly surprised. "I beg your pardon?"
​Belvedere shook his head. "I'm not here to gamble. I'm in Vegas, purely on business. I have a situation that's been compromised and I'm here to fix it."
​"I see," Fate said, coolly.

​Belvedere unbuttoned the jacket of his dark blue suit and lounged back in his seat. "In the interest of—let's call it mutual respect," he said, his piercing blue eyes on Fate, "—I'd appreciate it if you would allow me to conduct my business without any interference."

​Fate narrowed his eyes. He stepped back behind his desk and sat down, temping his fingers as he gazed at Belvedere. "It might be best if I knew what your business was. I must own I have no idea what your field is. Perhaps I could be of help."

​Belvedere's thin mouth sketched a smile. "I would be better off without your influence."

​Fate took in the man sitting before him. Tall and mysterious with an unseeable future, Fate couldn't shake the feeling that Rupert Belvedere might know more, and be more, than he was letting on.

***

​"Blow on 'em!!"

​The balding man pulled Lucky closer to the table and closer to himself. Pressed against him she could smell the stale beer and sweat. His eyes were glassy, his pupils were dilatated, and she could feel his fevered energy pulsing from him. He looked... aroused. But—though he held her tight against his body—it didn't feel directed at her. All his energy was on the table.

​"Let me go!" she demanded, struggling to free herself from his arms.

​"Just blow the goddamn dice!"
the balding man shrieked, his face turning red.
​Lucky tried to take a deep breath, tried to stay calm against the rush of panic threatening to overwhelm her. Tensions ran high in a casino, and she was used to people responding to the luck she seemed to trail. But this was different. She looked around at the faces lining the craps table, all leaning forward, leering at her, their gazes ravenous and wild.
​Something was off. Whatever luck she normally gave, it was magnified now, and it was making the people wild and feral and dangerous.

​"Quit squirming, rabbit foot!" the balding man laughed, pulling her closer still.

​Lucky put both hands on his chest and pushed. "Let me go, asshole!"

​The man gave a deranged laugh and yanked closer, pressing her against the craps table.

​Lucky was struggling, truly panicking, when she felt a hand on her arm. She looked up into a pair of fiery bronze-colored eyes.

​"Let's get you out of here," he said, his eyes darting around.

​"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" the balding man exploded, yanking Lucky away from the stranger.