Free Gambling with Gabriella (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing For Love Book 2) by Tara Crescent

Gabby’s good for both of us. In just a few hours, she’s drawn both Dominic and me out of the protective shells we’d retreated into when Chloe died. She’s making us feel alive.
    When he’s gone, I turn to Gabby. There’s something I want to talk to her about. “Dominic told me that someone scammed you at the poker game in New York.”
    “Dominic talks too much,” she grumbles.
    I sit next to her on the couch. “Why don’t you want us to help you?” I ask her softly. “You are helping us find Noah. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you in return.”
    Her expression turns bleak, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. She sighs and rests her head on my shoulder. “I don’t like depending on people, Carter,” she replies, her voice muffled against my chest. “In London, I was always in my father’s shadow. Whatever I did, no matter how hard I worked, people assumed that any success I achieved was because of who my dad was. Either that, or they just outright dismissed me as a spoiled rich girl.”
    I run my hand up and down her back, soothing, steadying strokes that communicate that I’ve got her. She might not want to depend on us, and she might even believe we’d betray her trust. But none of this is true. I would walk through fire for her, and not just because of her help with Noah. “Everyone can use a helping hand sometimes,” I correct her.
    “It’s not for the right reasons.” She isn’t looking at me. “You are feeling grateful, but you don’t need to help. Dominic’s paying Sammy off. That was the deal, right? You don’t need to do more.”
    I frown at her. “This isn’t because of the deal.” I put my finger on her chin, lifting her head up so she’s looking at me. “I’m helping because I want to.”
    She still won’t look at my face. “This thing isn’t real,” she mutters.
    “What thing?”
    “This weird attraction between the three of us. It isn’t real. Everything’s just amplified because of the pressure of the situation.” She sounds frustrated. “I told Dominic that. Why won’t the two of you listen to me?”
    “Because you’re wrong.” Okay, that’s not the most diplomatic answer in the world, but she’s so wrong. “Is it because of Noah that I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night at the Plaza? For the last five months, every woman I meet is measured against my memory of you. Is that because I’m grateful ?”
    She tenses against me, but I’m on a roll.
    “I know you don’t want to believe me,” I say into her hair, which smells like mint and warm summer. “I know that we will have to earn your trust. I understand this, and I’m okay with it, but don’t let past fears tarnish what we have, Gabby. Judge us for our actions, not for the actions of the assholes you dated before.”
    She’s quiet for a long time. Finally, she gives me a small nod. “I’ll try,” she whispers.
    Well, it’s a start. I turn the conversation back to her poker loss in New York. “The money you lost, when did it happen?”
    “Saturday night,” she says, her voice reluctant.
    “Was it just regulars who were there? Did you get a suspicious vibe off anyone?”
    She sits up and wrinkles her forehead, her fingers playing absently with a lock of her hair. “The dealer at my table was acting odd that night,” she reveals. “He’s normally very chatty, very friendly, but that night, he seemed really subdued.”
    “And your fellow players?” I quiz her.
    “There were two that didn’t quite fit in,” she muses. “Sammy’s halls are usually filled with young guys. You know, the kind that watch World Series of Poker and think they are going to make their fortune playing cards.”
    I nod. We are the peddlers of dreams in the gambling business. We help people escape the monotony of their lives for a few hours.
    “But the big winners were a couple in their late thirties. I’ve never seen them before. They looked like tourists.”
    “Tourists?” I