Chapt
Chapter 11
Nanson had been on a losing streak, the dice rolling against him time after time at the craps table. It was his eleventh roll, and the murmurs around him in the crowded casino were all betting on big.
“Eleven times, man! It’s got to be big this time!” the crowd buzzed, throwing their chips onto the ‘big‘ side of the table.
Nanson’s hands shook as he reached into his wallet, pulling out his last three hundred bucks. His forehead was slick with cold sweat as he wrestled with the decision.
“Come on, Nanson! Go big! You’ve been down on your luck for too long, buddy! Follow the crowd, and you can’t go wrong this time!” a voice from the crowd encouraged him.
It had to be big this time.
As Nanson was about to lay his money down, someone gently took the money from his grasp. Anthea’s soft voice cut through the din. “We’re betting small. Let’s go for a three, a one, and a four.”
“Are you messing with me?” Nanson turned to see Anthea, her eyes calm, giving nothing away.
Someone from the crowd added fuel to the fire. “Oh Nanson, you’ll be stripped down to your
boxers after this one!”
“That’s not my bet! I wanted big!” Nanson protested.
“The bets are locked in, buddy,” the croupier said firmly, pressing Nanson’s hand down. “House rules.”
Resigned, Nanson drew back his hand and shot Anthea a glare. “You’ll pay for this, kid!”
As the croupier lifted the cover, the dice revealed their numbers. Three, one, and four. Small.
A surge of disbelief washed over Nanson. He hadn’t misheard, had he?
“We won, Uncle Nanson,” Anthea said, her tone even as before.
They had won.
“Holy smokes! It’s small!” The crowd was a mix of groans and curses.
“We won! We freaking won!” Nanson couldn’t contain his excitement as he grabbed–Anthea’s hand. “What’s the call for the next roll?”
He finally believed Anthea had some magic touch.
With a small smile, she whispered, “Small again. Three, one, and four.”
“You got it!”
Nanson rode a winning streak, and he felt he was king of the world for the first time in ages.
Chapter 11
Upstairs, leaning against the railing of the casino’s mezzanine, Sherman watched the scene unfold. The dim light cast shadows over his chiseled features and his hands rested on the wooden rail, holding a cross chain.
At that moment, Daniel emerged beside him, peering down at the commotion below. “Holy cow, she’s got a golden arm! She’s hitting the nail on the head every time!”
He couldn’t believe such a young woman possessed such incredible luck.
“Impressive, huh?” Sherman turned to look at him.
“Sherman, you know her?” Daniel squinted, trying to make out the figure below.
She stood out in the bright casino lights, her flawless skin almost glowing, her beauty effortless and outstanding amidst the chaotic surroundings.
If Rebecca were considered pretty, the girl downstairs would be like Venus or a celestial nymph.
She was breathtaking and stunning.
Yet, she carried an air of winter’s chill.
Standing beside her, Rebecca would be overshadowed.
Such a person was rare, even in the bustling Capital City.
“It’s hard to believe Cloudcrest has such a hidden gem,” Daniel said, amazed.
“That’s Anthea,” the man revealed.
“Anthea?” Daniel paused, then said, “The Morris family’s black sheep, Anthea?”
Sherman merely nodded.
“No way!” Daniel’s face was a picture of disbelief as he looked down at the girl, struggling to reconcile the elegant gambler with the garishly made–up girl he’d seen at the Morris family’s social events.
