Blackjack Pizza Dallas Romane & Geschichten

She reached for an envelope on the edge of the table and slid it across to Fabian, who unfolded it and began to read. “‘You are cordially invited to an exclusive midday experience—The Grand Blackjack Luncheon,’” Fabian recited, his voice low and measured. “‘Hosted by our esteemed chef, Michel Moreau, and featuring a private blackjack tournament for our most distinguished guests.’” He glanced up at us before continuing. “‘Indulge in culinary artistry, savor unmatched luxury, and enjoy a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to network and win. Dress code: Semi-formal.’”

~ Tina POV ~ "Ma'am, another drink?" The cocktail waitress leaned over my shoulder, her voice cutting through the casino's relentless chiming and clicking. I didn't look up from the blackjack table. Couldn't. My hands were shaking too badly, and I needed them steady for the next hand. "Whiskey. Double." The cards blurred in front of me. Twenty-three thousand down in two hours. Jesus Christ, Tina. What are you doing?

"Then tell me. All of it." The waitress returned with their drinks—a Long Island iced tea for Greysen, vodka tonic for Novalee. Both deceptively sweet, both strong enough to erase the day. They waited until she left. "His name is Dante Santoro," Novalee said, and took a long drink. "He's... he runs the Blackwing Mafia. Controls half this city. Maybe more."

They walked to the park gates and spotted an Ice cream truck parked outside the park with a red and white striped pickup tent. “This one looks good.” Said Cassie, pointing at the Ice Cream truck. “No.” Blake said, not even hesitating. He grabbed Cassie’s hand and this made her turn to see Blake pointing in the opposite direction, “Papa takes me to one that is at the Old Quarter.” He lowered his hand, “They have pistachio-chocolate chips.” Cassie listened carefully and said, “All right… If that’s what you want.” Cassie extended her hand for Blakey to grab and he did.

We pulled into a pizzeria about 10 minutes away and I raised a brow at Bryan. “They have good reviews and it’s a place where we can get two large pizzas and no one is gonna look at us weird. I’m hungry. I might even get a damn salad.” Bryan unbuckled his seat bet and hopped out. I followed suit and sighed, not hungry in the slightest. Bryan really was such a child sometimes. -

Sasha scoffed on the other end and said sarcastically, "Your lack of trust in my PA skills is very heartwarming." Desiree rolled her eyes. "Oh, just stop being a clown and tell me what I want to hear." "McGregor's Diner is all yours, as well as the designs, decorations, and special menus you asked for," Sasha said. Pleased with the information, Desiree grinned. McGregor's Diner was one of the fanciest beach restaurants in Jackson City. It was made for the creme de la creme of society, and getting even a table reservation wasn't easy for the ordinary person. But Desiree's name had been enough to get the manager to reserve the whole restaurant for her without struggle.

“Welcome ma'am, what would you like to have? The worker asked with a professional smile on her face. Hazel took the menu placed on the table and pointed out some dishes. While waiting for her food, she checked through her apps but there were no notifications except from her readers. Some minutes later, Hazel's food arrived and she dug in almost immediately. The food tasted nice to her as she devoured it without paying attention to any other thing. When she was done, she stood up and went to pay, Hazel removed her husband’s black card and placed it on the table in front of the workers. The ladies stared at each other suspiciously and wondered where a common lady like her got the card. They ra

He slapped his forehead comically. “Gosh you know what, I forgot to tell you! I burnt them. How dumb do you have to be to burn frozen pizza, right?!”, he chortled. “Hey, Blake can you run down to Chik-fil-A and get us some food?”. He made a big show of pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and handing over a wad of cash. “Just get a some of everything, alright?”. With a curt nod Blake left and it was just me, Austin and Chris left sitting on the beige leather sofas in silence. Austin scooted even closer to me so we now sat thigh to thigh, and he wrapped an arm around me.

"What a peach." POV: BRIGAIL Thalia Romero worked the Blackjack pit on Wednesday graveyard. Same tables. Same break schedule. Same order from the 24-hour coffee shop: caramel macchiato at 12:15, taken to the smokers' lounge outside for her cigarette break. Brigail had known Thalia's routine for three weeks before tonight. She took a seat at the Baccarat table with a clear sightline to Thalia's pit. Simon, the pit boss at her table, handed her a ten-thousand-dollar marker without blinking. She changed it into hundreds and began placing bets.

Whispers spread like fire. “That’s Damian Blackwell…” “And his wife…look, she’s pregnant…” I stiffened, but Damian’s hand pressed firmly against my back, guiding me forward. “Ignore them,” he murmured. At the counter, a young man nearly dropped the pizza cutter when Damian looked at him. “What do you want?” Damian asked, turning his gaze to me. “Cheese and pepperoni, with extra sauce,” I said quickly, my mouth already watering. Damian turned back to the man. “One of each. Large and two of everything else on the menu.”