CROWN CHASER, KINGMAKER, POSER, PRETENDER, WANNABE HEIR
They had it all wrong.
I never wanted to rule the world; all I wanted was her.
But they couldn’t see past my bad reputation, so they forced us apart.
That was ten years ago, and I’ve grown up.
I’m still a rebel.
I’m still reckless.
But I’m also ruthless.
And I have even bigger balls.
So, when I find out she’s in trouble, I have to help her.
It doesn’t matter that she hates me.
She’ll get over it.
Fighting for her is what I was born to do.
I never wanted to rule until she needed me to, and this time I won’t stop until I get what I want.
If they think I will…
They have it all wrong.
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NOT SO MEET CUTE
When someone at the craps table beside me shouts, “Yes!” I flick my gaze in that direction. Standing at the very end is a tall woman in tight black pants with the shapeliest ass.
There’s an untidy pile of flecked chips in front of her. A modest stack of chips is also nestled on the edge of the table.
Apparently, she’s winning.
Curious, I watch as the woman makes the standard pass line bet. There are three shooters at the table, and they will each take a turn rolling the dice, although they will all be betting on each roll.
Not my game of choice.
She’s first, so she grabs the dice, gives them a blow for luck, and rolls them both down the table in her come out roll.
I can’t see the dice, but when she jumps up and down, I can only guess she rolled a seven
or an eleven. It’s still her turn, and when she does her little ritual with the dice again, I find it more than sexy. On this roll, if she rolls a two, three or twelve, she loses.
I feel like I want to cross my fingers for her.
It’s all about luck.
She jumps up and down again, and I know she’s still in.
Roll after roll, she’s kicking ass.
Now, I’m holding my breath because she’s on the point roll. The dealer turns the puck to ‘ON’ and places it on the number that was just rolled. All she has to do is avoid a seven to keep going.
She’s still as the roll comes to a stop. I feel more emotion watching her than I did with everything I had on the line back at the blackjack table.
“Bad luck,” I hear someone groan and watch as the pile of chips she had pushed forward disappears.
She sevened-out. She practically sags at the table as the loss registers. Just then, the concierge hands me a receipt that acknowledges the transfer of my winnings, and shaking my head for her, I start to stride toward the exit.
Shouldn’t play a game luck.
Somehow, she accidentally pushes the small remaining pile of chips under her arm onto
the floor as I’m passing behind her. Without a second thought, I find myself diving down to help her recover her money.
When my eyes meet her sparkling blue ones, I can’t move, and all the breath is knocked squarely from my chest.
It’s been ten years since I broke her heart, and shit…
Little Liz Laurent is all grown up.