Chapter 4

LIAM

The casino's entrance was a statement of luxury. As I stepped through the doors, the sound of slot machines and the low hum of conversation surrounded me. The air was filled with the scent of expensive cigars and the soft click of high heels on polished marble. The ladies couldn't hide their gawking--a usual occurrence I was already used to.

I made my way toward the high-stakes room, my presence marked by the subtle shift in the atmosphere. Heads turned, and whispers followed in my wake. I offered courteous nods and firm handshakes here and there.

"Liam Sterling," a familiar voice called out. I turned to see David Torres, a seasoned distributor with a habit for theatrics. He extended his hand, which I took with a firm grip. "Good to see you. I hear you're quite the player tonight."

"David. Always a pleasure."

As I continued through the casino, I exchanged pleasantries with several other key figures. There was Carla Mendoza, a club owner with connections that stretched the whole of Manhattan through New Jersey. Her smile was as charming as always. Her father was a key player in the biggest cartel in Peru and I wondered if he was still around.

The mingling continued as I moved through the crowd, engaging in brief conversations. The high-stakes room was just ahead, and I knew that once inside, the game would shift from social pleasantries to serious business.

As I approached the door to the private room, I took a moment to scan the room. The air charged with anticipation. I was well aware of the eyes following me.

"Felix," I said, catching sight of my right-hand man as he approached. "How's everything looking?"

Felix nodded, his expression as impassive as ever. "Everything's set. The other players are ready, but we're still waiting on the last one."

I glanced at the clock and took a deep breath. As I entered the high-stakes room, I greeted the assembled players with a nod.

The poker game was more than just a game, a good poker player in this world knew this. A good poker player didn't just play the cards--they played the people.

Tonight's game was no different. The table was set with expensive leather chairs and polished wood, the stakes high and the players even higher. I watched as chips were stacked, eyes darting around, each player sizing up their opponents. The cards were dealt with precision, as the game began. I leaned back in my chair, my focus shifting between the game and the players The stakes were more than just financial tonight—they represented potential alliances, business opportunities, and the influence that I navigated daily. Every hand was a chance to read others, to gauge their reactions, and to place my own moves with calculated precision.

However, as the game progressed, something began to gnaw at my patience. The last player—a key participant in tonight's game—hadn't shown up. The minutes ticked by, stretching into hours, and with each passing moment, my frustration grew. It wasn't just about the game anymore; it was about respect, professionalism, and the expectations that came with high-stakes poker.

The other players were also growing restless, their faces a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. Whispers of speculation circulated around the table, each player trying to guess why the mysterious "unknown player" was missing. I could feel the irritation, the shared unease that filled the room.

 I watched the door and glanced at my watch, mirroring everyone's impatience. 

Just as I was about to express my growing frustration to Felix, the door to the high-stakes room opened with a soft, deliberate creak. A man in a tailored suit stepped in. The room fell silent as he approached the table, his gaze sweeping over the assembled players before settling on me. "Mr. Sterling," he began, his voice steady. "I apologize for the delay."

I raised an eyebrow, my patience wearing thin. So this was the last player that had kept us all waiting?

I glanced at the faces around the room, calculating my next words so as not to show too much of my rising anger and impatience. "You sure did take your time; we've all been waiting, " I said. 

The man offered a slight bow. "I am just a messanger. I have come to tell you The Queen of the West sends her greetings, and she apologizes for her absence."

"Queen of the West?" I echoed, the other players murmuring amongst themselves. 

What ridiculous game was this? 

My blood simmered.

A woman? We'd been sitting here, wasting hours for her?

I leaned back in my chair, trying to keep my cool, but the truth was, I felt mocked. Ridiculed. I respected the power plays, but this was disrespect, plain and simple. My fingers tightened around the edge of the table as the messenger continued on with his formalities to the rest of the players.

Unbelievable. We'd all been held up for someone who couldn't even show her face. Not just someone—a woman. And now we were supposed to be soothed with apologies and greetings? 

The room murmured, some shifting in their seats, but I wasn't the only one irritated. Without a word, I stood up, pushing my chair back with a force that caught the attention of everyone in the room. Felix shot me a glance, his eyes narrowing, but he didn't move to stop me.

"Sterling?" one of the men at the table called out.

I ignored him, not even bothering to look back. "This is a waste of time," I muttered under my breath, loud enough for them to hear but not meant to spark a conversation.

Felix fell into step beside me as I strode towards the door, my pulse quickening with the anger I was trying—and failing—to keep in check.

Outside the poker room, Felix finally spoke up, his voice low. "You sure about this, Liam?"

I stopped in my tracks, turning to face him. "We've been sitting there like idiots, waiting for some woman who thinks she's too important to show up. I don't care who she is. No one makes me wait like that."