Chapter 484
Chapter 484:
“Player total is two p>
She turned the banker’s cards. “Banker shows six. Stands on six. Banker wins p>
The men cheered or groaned.
Skye watched the cards. Her mind shifted into a different gear. She was not just dealing; she was counting. She tracked the high cards. She tracked the face cards.
She realized the deck was rich in face cards, which favored the banker in certain betting patterns.
She looked up. A quiet Asian man at the end of the table was betting heavily on the player. He was losing.
Skye caught his eye. She made a subtle movement with her finger—tapping the deck twice. A universal signal among cheats, or perhaps just a nervous tic.
The man paused. He looked at her. He looked at the deck. He switched his bet to banker. He pushed his entire stack forward.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
Lucian was busy talking to the Texan, distracted by his own ego.
Skye dealt.
“Player has a natural eight,” Skye said, flipping the cards.
A collective gasp went through the table.
“Banker has a natural nine. Banker wins p>
The Asian man cheered quietly. He raked in the chips.
The house had just lost two hundred thousand dollars.
Lucian turned around, his smile faltering slightly. Skye kept her face blank.
She dealt again. She manipulated the speed of the game, throwing off the rhythm of the casual players and favoring the sharks.
Another huge payout.
One hundred fifty thousand dollars to the Texan.
Lucian frowned. He stepped closer to the table.
“You’re supposed to be lucky,” he muttered in her ear.
“Luck is a fickle mistress,” Skye replied, dealing another winning hand to the players.
𝗬𝗼𝘶𝘳 ո𝗲𝘹𝘵 𝗋еa𝖽 iѕ 𝘰n 𝗯𝘦.𝘤𝘰m
The chip rack in front of her was emptying. The house was bleeding money.
Lucian’s hand tightened on her shoulder.
“That’s enough,” Lucian hissed after the house lost another three hundred thousand dollars in ten minutes. He gripped Skye’s shoulder, his fingers digging into her muscle. “You are bad luck. Get up p>
“Hey!” the Texan shouted. “She’s my golden goose! Leave her be p>
“The dealer is tired,” Lucian snapped.
“I’m not tired,” Skye said loudly.
She pulled away from Lucian’s grip.
She needed to escalate. The money wasn’t enough. She needed a scene.
She stepped away from the table.
“Where are you going?” Lucian demanded.
Skye walked toward the center of the VIP lounge. There was a raised stage with a grand piano. The lounge pianist was on break.
Skye climbed the steps. The spotlight hit her red dress, making her glow.
She sat at the piano.
The room went quiet. The sight of the dealer abandoning the table to play music was bizarre enough to stop conversation.
Skye placed her hands on the keys. She didn’t play something soft. She didn’t play jazz.