Novel & Cerita The Gentleman's Gambit

ONE WEEK EARLIER “Do you know how many hours an average gambler spends on the casino floor or placing bets online in a year, Mr Smith?” Alexander kept his gaze on the already glinting blade in his hand as he polished it, not at all bothered by the chubby man sweating bullets onto the ceramic tiles. “N- No.” The man responded breathlessly, he sounded a lot like he’d run a marathon before he got here, but that was hardly true. The wild beating of his heart was a result of the adrenalin chasing down the fear in his veins.

He could only let out muffled sounds. After that, I knocked him out once again. At the same time, I heard many screams of agony. I just closed my eyes to tune them out. Those young and beautiful blind masseuses dreamed of making a ton of money when they boarded the cruise. But they would never be able to leave the cruise with the money. Finally, the sounds died down at night. I clutched the keycard that I had found in the gray-suited man's pocket as I opened a small gap in the door.

In that moment Reena could so clearly see the difference between the rich and the poor, the poor would have savored moments like this, and the hall would be washed with true and genuine laughter that wrapped around everyone like wisps of silks and silver memories, but though the rich did laugh, it was as heady and dangerous as sweet wine as they placed their stakes in games no one else knew the rules to, and laughed with allies as they danced with foes. Shaking off the dark allure of the ballroom and remembering the tasks at hand, Reena hoped her wide eyed expression had not caught any unwanted attentions, but a burning feeling made her realize that she could not be more wrong, glancing arou

Tristan said. "Ten thousand..." A gentleman from the back said. "I'll pay Twelve thousand." The other one said. "Make it fourteen." The gentleman in the back said again. "Do I hear sixteen for the beautiful lady?" Tristan said but no one raised their hands. "Fourteen thousand going once, going twice, Sold to the gentleman with a blue mask. Step right up and claim your prize." He said with a smile. The man in a blieaskade his way to the podium to claim his prize, then they kissed.

"Like that?" "Exactly. And when I want to gamble, I'll make silly bets with you. But we have to be smart with this. Lots of people are after us." "Okay, you're right. No stealing." "What's my rule?" Hobbs grunted. "No breaking my femur." *** The lady at the front desk seems suspicious that we want to pay in cash, but doesn't actually say anything. "What name can we put the name under?" "Jolene Vegas." Jovie smiled.

"Tonight, I play the only role that matters: the man who ends the Lu legacy once and for all. Let Arthur Vincent have his titles. I have the truth." The Gala: Somerset House Somerset House was a fortress of neoclassical elegance, its courtyard filled with the shimmer of rain-slicked marble and the hum of luxury engines. Inside, the ballroom was a cathedral of light, dripping with crystal chandeliers and the hushed, high-stakes whispers of the British aristocracy. Panni and Jinyan moved through the crowd as Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, Canadian venture capitalists. It was a thin veil, but in a room filled with egos, the best way to hide was to look like someone with money to lose.

My wavy blonde hair was pushed to my right shoulder, revealing my bare back and emerald earrings. A wave of pride swept through me when I caught the valet sneaking glances at me. I felt like a goddess who had just descended down to earth, and I couldn't wait to see Theodore's face when he saw me. A middle-aged man dressed in a grey suit cleared his throat and stepped away from the group of men. “Good evening, Mrs. Knight,” he greeted with a low bow. “I am Mr. Gilbert, the manager of the restaurant. Please follow me.”

“I’m not joking. I really have AIDS. The last time I went to the hospital, I was actually inquiring about my own condition.” The entire venue erupted into chaos. Guests scrambled to leave. Meanwhile, Nicholas shoved her away, causing her to fall hard to the ground. “You freaking tried to kill me?”

Mexico City, Three Years Ago 9:45 PM, The Gran Palacio Ballroom Gabriel tugged at the cuffs of his black wool double-breasted peak lapel tuxedo, more out of habit than necessity. Around him, the glittering ballroom buzzed with conversation, the kind of polished, calculated talk he had grown used to over the years.

The crew chief is on a timer; he has the watch, and he wants to be gone. "What do we have left to sell?" I ask, looking at Gabriel. He checks his pockets, his fingers searching for leverage. He pulls out his cufflinks—platinum, engraved, and desperate. "These might be worth a thousand," he says, weighing them in his hand. It is a humiliating sight: a billionaire stripping parts off his suit to pay a cover charge. I am about to call Dr. Walsh to beg for an extension when Gabriel’s phone vibrates. He answers, and his face hardens into a mask of stone.