Free The Affair: Week 6 by Beth Kery Page A

and not wanting there to be a scene, Emma tried to intervene. “It was just a misunderstanding,” Emma assured, putting her hand out to give the chip and the hotel keycard back to Mario. The men who had been talking to Vanni were starting to look over at them, obviously sensing the rising tension between Mario and Vanni. Mario put out his hand to take back the key and chip, a relieved expression on his face.
    “I’ll say it was,” Vanni said, halting her action with a hand on her arm. He stepped past her toward Mario aggressively.
    “No, please,” Emma said. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just go, Vanni.” Vanni looked down at her touch, his icy, focused anger fracturing slightly. His face settled into a determined mask. He put his hand on her upper arms and turned her in front of him. The next thing she knew, he was urging her up to the table. People were laying down their chips.
    “Vanni . . . what—”
    “Bet it,” he said quietly from behind her. She looked over at her shoulder, shocked. Was he so furious at Mario, he’d gone crazy? His face was still stiff from anger, but when she met his stare, he gave her a small, imperceptible smile. “
Bet
it,” he repeated, placing his hands on her waist.
    “What do I do?” she asked, turning back to the table.
    “Pick a number on the inside and put the chip directly on it,” Vanni instructed. She thought she understood what he meant by emphasizing
directly
. Some people were setting their chips between and at the corner of numbers. He wanted her to bet it all on one roll of the wheel.
    She bit her lip uncertainly. A thought struck her. “What’s the Montand racecar number?” she asked impulsively.
    “Fourteen,” Vanni said from behind her.
    She placed the chip on the velvet-covered table directly on fourteen. She heard someone curse bitterly and glanced around to see Mario standing there, his handsome face pale.
    “You said you were playing host, Mario,” Vanni said with false calmness. “You certainly were being a generous one.”
    Mario bared his teeth, and the wheel was spinning. Emma looked on, her heart beating fast with rising excitement. Somehow, she knew what was going to happen before it did. The ball rattled to a stop as if in slow motion. The croupier called out something, but Emma couldn’t discern what for the roaring in her ears.
    The ball had landed on fourteen.
    She spun around in Vanni’s arms.
    “I
won
?” she asked with excited disbelief.
    “You won,” Vanni said, a smile breaking free. He caught her against him when she jumped, his deep laughter adding to her sense of euphoria. Over Vanni’s shoulder she saw the men Vanni had been talking to laughing and congratulating her.
    “I’ve never won anything in my life!” She told them ecstatically. Then she caught sight of Mario’s desperate, angry expression and immediately sobered. “Oh . . . but it was Mario’s chip, of course . . .”
    “Nonsense,” Vanni said briskly, setting her back down. “Take your winnings. It’s time to go.” He shot Mario a dark glance. “Mario knows the rules of the house. Maybe he won’t take be quite so
hospitable
next time.”
    Mario opened his mouth to protest, but seemed to think better of it under the influence of Vanni’s glare. He turned and disappeared into the crowd.
    “Take your winnings,” Vanni directed again gently. “We’re leaving.”
    Emma scooped up her chips and followed Vanni through the crowded casino. This time, when people tried to stop him to talk, he politely put them off.
    “Do you want me to cash them for you?” Vanni asked her a moment later when they approached a desk that looked like it might be casino services.
    “Are you sure we should?” she asked doubtfully, handing him the chips. “Mario seems pretty drunk. It doesn’t seem fair.”
    “He didn’t realize he’d given you such a big chip,” Vanni said succinctly. Emma blinked in surprise. “He gets sloppy when he drinks.