Chapter 483
Chapter 483:
“Perfect,” Lucian murmured.
He walked up behind her, looking at their reflection. “Lady Luck herself p>
He offered his arm. “Shall we p>
Skye turned. She placed her hand on his arm. Her nails, painted the same dark red, dug slightly into his jacket sleeve.
“Let’s go break the bank,” she said.
They walked out of the suite and down the grand staircase. At the bottom, Marcus was nowhere to be seen. A new guard, younger and less observant, held the door.
They exited the villa into the cooling desert night. A stretch limousine waited. Inside, the air was cool and smelled of leather. Lucian poured champagne.
“Here are the rules,” Lucian said, handing her a flute. “You deal at the VIP Baccarat table. You smile. You don’t speak unless spoken to. If you try to run, I will shoot the first person you talk to. A waiter. A guest. It doesn’t matter p>
Skye took the glass. “I understand p>
The car moved smoothly down the winding road. In the distance, the glow of Las Vegas grew brighter—a city of sin, a city of chance.
Skye’s heart began to race. Not with fear, but with anticipation. She was going into the lion’s den. But she was bringing the fire.
The limousine pulled up to the private entrance of the Graves Casino, a massive complex of glass and steel that dominated the northern end of the Strip.
The doors opened, and the noise hit them instantly—the chaotic symphony of slot machines, laughter, and clinking chips.
Lucian stepped out first, then extended a hand to Skye.
She emerged. The red dress flowed around her legs like liquid fire.
The paparazzi were waiting behind the velvet ropes. Flashbulbs erupted, blinding white light popping in the darkness.
“Graves! Who is she p>
“Is that… Skye Sterling?” someone whispered. “Wait, isn’t that Thorne’s fiancée p>
“I thought she was missing p>
“Look at that dress p>
Fiո𝖽 𝗻𝗈𝗏е𝘭 𝗣𝗗𝖥s 𝘰𝘯 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝘯𝗈𝘷е𝗅𝘴.c𝗈𝘮
Skye didn’t flinch. She adopted her Oracle persona—aloof, mysterious, untouchable. She walked past the cameras as if they didn’t exist.
Lucian guided her with a possessive hand on the small of her back.
They entered the main floor.
The casino was a cathedral of greed—gold ceilings, green felt, smoke swirling in the lights. Heads turned. People stopped playing to look at the woman in red.
“That’s the Oracle CEO,” a woman gasped. “Why is she with Graves p>
They moved to the high-limit area, roped off in heavy velvet. This was where the whales played—men who bet houses on a single card.
Several men stood up as Lucian approached.
“Graves!” a fat man with a Texas accent boomed. He was chewing on an unlit cigar. “Who’s the beauty p>
“My new lucky charm,” Lucian boasted. “She’s dealing tonight p>
He positioned Skye behind the Baccarat table.
“You know the game?” the Texan asked, leering at her.
“Player. Banker. Tie,” Skye said, her voice cool. “I know the game p>
She picked up the shoe. Her hands were steady.
She began to deal. The cards snapped against the felt.
“Player shows four,” Skye announced, revealing the cards. “Player draws p>
She slid the next card from the shoe. It was an eight.