The Gambler and His Knife​

1 At eighteen, my father’s gambling debts got me sold on a black market in a city of sin. I was bought by a trust-fund brat with a gambling addiction. When his chips ran out, he’d use one of us girls as collateral. But when someone pointed at me, he pulled me back. “Not this one. I’m keeping her.” His greasy hands gripped my chin as he dragged me toward a suite, tearing my dress. Just as I felt hell closing in, a cold voice cut through: “I’ll take her.” The kid turned to argue but froze at the gun against his forehead. “Two choices: leave her and your debt is cleared, or die.” Sweating, he released me and fled like a rat. My savior was Lian Lynn—owner of Elysium Club and the shadow empire behind it, the uncrowned king of this city. For ten years, I became his sharpest blade. By day, he trained me in combat and finance; by night, he was an insatiable presence in my bed, sometimes showing a flicker of tenderness. Until this morning. He watched me as the sun rose, his voice cold: “Next Monday, go to Elysium’s presidential suite. Drug George Williamson. Take care of him.” He continued, "I'm bringing Celeste. Once she sees what George is capable of, she'll finally agree to our engagement." My heart plummeted. Lian dressed with slow, deliberate movements, his immaculate suit erasing every trace of the previous night's madness. It was a barrier, sealing away the fragile warmth we'd shared. He straightened his tie, his voice as cool and cruel as a winter morning. "Celeste can't stand filth. She has a zero-tolerance policy for anything dirty." "Only by seeing the man she loves debase himself will she give up on him completely and come back to me." Celeste Bancroft. The sole heiress to the Bancroft fortune and the woman Lian had worshipped from afar for over a decade. The one he could never have. But Celeste only had eyes for Lian's mortal enemy, George Williamson. Lian had made George's life a living hell in the business world because of it. Once, when Celeste found out, she stormed into a Lynn family gala and slapped Lian across the face in front of everyone. He hadn't gotten angry. He'd simply gone to the casino to drown his sorrows. That was the night he'd stumbled upon me, moments from being assaulted, and played the part of the hero. Over the years, he showered me with gifts. Any new designer dress or piece of jewelry Celeste was seen with, he would buy two—one for her, one for me. At a charity gala last year, some spoiled heir had dared to touch my chin. Lian broke the man’s arm on the spot and had him thrown out. His grandfather, the old patriarch, was furious and invoked the family's harsh disciplinary code. Lian was whipped until his eyes were rimmed red, but he shielded me with his own body the entire time. "The next person who touches my woman," he’d growled, "I'll burn their entire family to the ground." From that day on, everyone knew. Aria Stellan was the apple of Lian Lynn's eye. Sometimes, his men would jokingly call me "Ma'am." He'd hear them but never correct them, offering only a silent, sidelong glance. After a while, even I started to believe the illusion. That maybe I was different to him. That maybe, if things continued this way, one day… But in this single moment, the fantasy shattered. I was nothing more than a tainted tool, used to provoke the woman he truly loved. A sharp, cold pain seized my heart, jolting me back to reality. I took the small packet of powder he offered me, my face a mask of indifference. "Understood." Lian’s hands paused on his cufflinks. He reached out to touch my hair. "If you really don't want to do this, I can find someone else…" I subtly shifted away from his touch. "I can do it." His hand hovered in the air for a moment. He studied my face, then gave a nonchalant nod. He picked up a comb and began to expertly smooth my long hair, his fingers occasionally brushing the nape of my neck with a familiar, electrifying touch. "Remember," his voice was a low murmur, mingling with the soft rasp of the comb through my hair, "it’s all an act. Don't let any other man actually take advantage of you." When he was finished, he turned me by the shoulders to face him, his eyes meeting mine. His tone was like a king bestowing a gift. "When this is done, you can ask for anything you want." I looked at his handsome face and managed a faint smile. "Alright. Thank you, Mentor." I had called him Mentor since the day he took me in. After we became intimate, the title had slowly faded from my vocabulary. Saying it now felt like stepping back into a distant past. As I was about to leave, he called my name. "Aria." I turned. His expression was unreadable. "Are you in love with someone? Is it Jax?" Jax was his most trusted personal aide. My heart sank. He didn't wait for my answer. "That kid has been stealing glances at you lately. If you feel the same way, just tell me. Your mentor will prepare a generous dowry for you. I won't let you be wronged." Ten years of devotion, and this was the chasm that still lay between us. Worlds apart. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down, forcing a smile. "Okay." Perhaps it was guilt. The next day, Lian personally fastened a limited-edition diamond necklace, freshly delivered, around my neck. Then, he drove me to the airport to pick up Celeste, who was returning from her trip abroad early. Celeste emerged from the terminal looking utterly distraught and threw herself into Lian’s arms. "George won't answer my calls! How could he do this to me?" Her eyes swept over me, landing on the necklace. Without a word, she reached out and violently yanked it from my neck. The sharp clasp slashed my skin. A hot sting followed, and beads of blood welled up on the surface. In the past, Lian would have lost his mind if anyone had so much as touched a hair on my head. Now, he merely glanced at my bleeding neck before wrapping an arm around Celeste, pulling her into a protective embrace. His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. "You still have me, don't you?" Celeste shoved him away. "You can't help me! I want George!" Lian didn't seem fazed by her rejection. He simply smiled. "Chasing a man requires brains, Celeste. Throwing yourself at him just makes you look cheap." His gaze shifted to me. "George collects antique watches. Your eye for them is impeccable. Go to my vault, pick out a rare piece, and send it to him in Miss Bancroft's name." For the first time, Celeste actually looked at me, her eyes raking over my body with unconcealed scorn. "So this is the little mistress you keep?" She scoffed. "That necklace was released yesterday, and it's on her neck today. You're so generous, Lian." Lian raised an eyebrow. "If you like it, it's yours." Celeste’s face twisted in disgust. She threw the necklace to the ground and ground the diamonds under her high heel. "It's filthy. Who wants something she's worn?" Lian just ruffled her hair. "She's not a mistress. She's just an employee. Someone to handle my dirty work." He looked back at Celeste. "From now on, if you have any problems, feel free to use her however you see fit." Hearing this, the very same men who used to call me "Ma'am" with a mix of fear and respect now looked at me with pity, and a flicker of contempt they didn't bother to hide. I realized then that the illusion of his affection, the pedestal he had put me on, had just been shattered into a million irreparable pieces. … I arrived at George Williamson’s penthouse office with an priceless antique watch in hand. His bodyguards tried to stop me, but I put them on the floor in a matter of seconds. Unlike Lian’s domineering and aggressive aura, George was something else entirely. He looked more like a cool, refined scholar, with eyes that were sharp but serene. There was no trace of the bloodthirsty monster from the rumors. When he saw it was me, his features softened, and a hint of a smile touched his lips. "Well, well. Did Lian send you to cause trouble again, little bird?" I recited my lines mechanically. "Mr. Williamson, Miss Bancroft just returned from her trip…" I placed the gift box on his desk. "This is a token of her affection." He put down his pen, rose from his chair, and walked to a safe in the corner of the room, retrieving a small velvet box. "Is that a return gift for Miss Bancroft?" I asked, reaching to take it. But instead, he opened it to reveal a string of lustrous, warm pearls. "For you." He walked over and, without asking, fastened the necklace around my neck. His cool fingertips brushed against the cut on my skin. "There. That should cover it." I froze for a second. After he returned to his desk, I steadied myself and got to the point. "Mr. Williamson, about the gala at Elysium next Monday… you will be attending, won't you?" He looked up, his gaze deep and penetrating. "I will." He paused, then added, "But I'd rather see you." My heart leaped into my throat. I hastily lowered my head, muttered, "I'll see myself out," and fled his office. When I returned to Lian’s office, he stood up the moment I walked in. "What took you so long? He didn't give you a hard time, did he?" His eyes fell to the pearl necklace around my neck, and his expression instantly turned to ice. "What is that?" I looked down. "Mr. Williamson gave it to me—" Before I could finish, Lian lunged forward and ripped the necklace from my neck. Pearls scattered across the floor, rolling in every direction. The wound on my skin stung anew. "Name his price. I'll pay him back tenfold!" Lian's voice was dangerously low. "My people don't wear gifts from other men." I stared at him, a profound confusion washing over me. Wasn't this what he wanted? For me to get close to George, to seduce him? When I got back to the villa, all of my belongings had been removed from my bedroom and piled in a corner of the living room. Lian’s tone was flat. "Celeste is staying for a few days. I don't want her to get the wrong idea seeing your things, so I had them packed for you." He handed me a key card. "You can stay in the penthouse suite at the Elysium Hotel. It's quiet there." I took the card and silently began stuffing my scattered possessions into a suitcase. He stood behind me, watching for a while, before crouching down and wrapping his arms around me from behind. His warm breath ghosted over my ear, carrying a familiar, suggestive heat. My body went rigid. Without turning, I said softly, "Mentor, Miss Bancroft should be back soon." He froze. After a long moment, he let me go and stood up. His voice returned to its usual calm, though it was laced with a barely perceptible thread of irritation. "George Williamson is a devious bastard. Remember, it's just an act. Don't let him actually touch you." … The gala on Monday was a glittering affair, the air thick with champagne and whispers. I found George easily. When he saw me, the corner of his mouth curved into a smile that held more genuine warmth than the ones he gave to others. His eyes dropped to my bare neck. "Where's the necklace?" I looked away. "I forgot to wear it…" He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the still-healing cut on my skin. The touch was cool, and I flinched involuntarily. The moment was perfect. I held out the doctored glass of wine. He took it, his eyes seeming to see right through me. "You really want me to drink this?" A tremor went through me. I suppressed my panic and nodded. He didn't hesitate again. He tilted his head back and drained the glass. The drug worked fast. His eyes grew hazy, his skin flushed, and his breathing became heavy. He draped an arm around my shoulders, his voice a low rasp. "I'm feeling a little dizzy. Help me upstairs." I did as I was told, guiding him through the sea of curious, suggestive gazes toward the presidential suite on the top floor. By the time I laid him on the bed, he was losing control, his breath coming in hot pants. I looked at his face, flushed with drug-induced desire, and suddenly felt lost. In that moment of hesitation, his eyes flew open. They were no longer hazy but churning with a terrifying intensity. He yanked me down onto the bed, trapping me in his scorching embrace. In that instant, I saw the ruthless predator the rumors had always described. I struggled instinctively, but he held me fast. "Aria…" His kiss crashed down on me, demanding and possessive, fiercer and more consuming than anything I had ever known with Lian. He felt like he was trying to devour me whole. But strangely, while his grip was iron-strong, his movements held a certain restraint, as if he were terrified of hurting me. This tenderness hidden within the storm of his passion was more unnerving than pure brutality. I thought of Lian's command. Of Celeste's disgusted glare. Of the fact that I was nothing more than a disposable tool. So be it. This would be my final payment for the ten years of shelter Lian had given me. After this, we would be even. My body, which had been coiled tight with tension, finally went limp. I closed my eyes, letting myself be swept away, sinking into the unfamiliar tide. Consciousness ebbed and flowed. I don't know how much time passed before the storm subsided. The man beside me, seemingly still not fully lucid, gently kissed the corner of my eye with a rare, dependent vulnerability. And then— BANG! The suite door was kicked open from the outside.

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