Ravi Dumont

I was inside a goddamn trunk. They were kidnapping me for money—money I'd been making from my casinos for the past ten years. My guards were all dead, except one: the traitor. But his mistake was letting me see his face, because if he thought I was going to die after handing over everything I owned, he didn't know me very well.

The car stopped somewhere I guessed was a dirt road, since I could hear gravel pinging against the undercarriage. I closed my eyes when I heard the trunk latch pop open.

"Boss, he's still out cold," one of them said. Not the traitor.

"We'll have to pull him out and tie him to the chair inside. Be careful—if he wakes up, he'll kill everyone and the whole plan goes to shit."

I felt them dragging me out. Four men to carry me, two on my legs and two on my arms. When the cold floor hit my back—they'd set me on the ground—I cracked my eyes open just enough. All four had their backs to me, staring at the chair they wanted to strap me to.

Then the same four grabbed me again and sat me down. The moment I felt one of them reach for my wrist to pull it behind the chair, I yanked it free and opened my eyes. I grabbed his arm and hauled him into my lap as the others rushed me, and I was already on my feet. I threw him into one of the others, sending them both crashing to the floor. Then I started throwing punches and kicks at every one of them.

"Don... forgive me..." The traitor's voice. I turned to face him. The man who'd nearly become the head of my security because he'd earned my trust.

"God forgives. You're going to hell." I crouched, snatched a gun from one of his men on the floor, and aimed it at his head. "You miserable piece of shit. If you wanted more money, why didn't you just ask?"

"Because I'd have to pay it back... and I know how you collect. Would've been the perfect heist if you hadn't woken up."

"Too bad you picked the wrong prey. See you in hell, you bastard." I pulled the trigger without a shred of remorse. But the second I hit him, searing pain tore through my back. I spun around and emptied the entire clip into the son of a bitch who'd just shot me. "Motherfucker!"

I dragged myself to the door, pain ripping through my chest. Got into the car and started driving, but my vision was going blurry fast. I ended up stopping in the middle of the road and stumbled out, leaning my back against the car. I looked up, asking God for an angel to save me before I died. Then a set of high beams lit up the road. And from behind them, a woman in white walked toward me, looking exactly like the angel I'd just begged God for. I couldn't hold on any longer. I blacked out.

* * *

When I came to, the pain where I'd been shot was gone, but the moment I tried to sit up, a sharp stab shot through my back and I let out a low groan. I looked around and realized I was in a wooden house that seemed abandoned—simple, old, but strangely clean. The towels on the bed were spotless, as if this one corner was the only part of the place anyone actually cared for.

"Good, you're awake. I'll give you something for the pain."

I turned my head toward the voice and found the woman in white coming toward me, holding a pink bottle and a pill.

"You were very lucky today, sir. I left work late and found you out there on the road. I usually pass through an hour earlier—you'd have been dead if you'd been out there any longer. You're also lucky this house was close to where you were shot, and that I had clean towels in my car, or it would've been over." I took the pill from her hand, still trying to get my bearings.

"Are you a doctor?" She shook her head with a small smile.

"I'm a nurse, but I pay attention to the doctors at work. I shouldn't have done that procedure on you, but you weren't going to make it to a hospital—you were losing too much blood. Now rest. I'm leaving some medicine, water, and a snack here for you, and then I'm going home. Tomorrow, before my shift, I'll come back to check on you." I frowned, not liking the idea of her leaving one bit.

"Why don't you stay here with me?" She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, like I'd asked the most obvious question in the world.

"Because you're out of danger now. But if you're scared, I can take you to a hospital and leave you there. Except, since you were shot, they'd be required to call the police, and with gunshot residue on your hands, I don't think that'd be the best idea—would it?" An angel and smart. I nodded in silence, just watching as she tidied everything up before heading out.

"Wait... what's your name?" She glanced over her shoulder.

"Lorena Sales. And you?"

"Ravi." I didn't give my last name so I wouldn't scare her off. "We'll see each other again, nurse."

"If you're still here tomorrow, maybe." She waved on her way out the door.

I ate the snack she'd left me, took the medicine, and after a while, I made my way out of the house. My torso was bandaged, and I had to admit—she'd done one hell of a job. And the most impressive part: she'd done it all alone, without making a fuss. That was exactly the kind of woman I wanted in my life.

Smart, careful, and gorgeous as hell. Dangerously attractive—the kind that gets inside a man's head. And she'd gotten inside mine like no other woman ever had. I walked until I reached a main road, and after a few minutes, one of my guards finally found me.

I got in the car and told them to take me home. The second I arrived, I opened my laptop and looked up Lorena Sales. My whole world nearly crumbled when I saw she was married. But not all was lost. The silver lining was that she was with a nobody, and men like him tended to have an enormous appetite for money.

All I needed to do was put my casino in his path. Maybe someone he knew who already came to the place could suggest a visit. I'd let him win a little first, let him taste what luck felt like, then pull the rug out from under him before he knew what hit him.

And the final play would be simple: his life or his beautiful wife. He'd have to choose, and I already knew which one he'd pick. He'd hand her over to me, because I was the man Lorena deserved—not some broke deadbeat loser like him.

Ravi

Seven days was all it took to reel him in and get him hooked on the tables. He came every night, walked out with a fat stack of cash, but had clearly blown through every cent. He hadn't invested a dime—if he kept coming back, it was because he couldn't make the money last.

As always, I watched from behind the one-way glass of my office until he showed up, but tonight I was going to see him lose up close. The second he walked in, I headed down to the poker table and took a seat on a stool, waiting for him. It didn't take long before he walked over and sat across from me.

The cards were dealt. I lifted my head and studied his face. He gave a slight smile—which meant he had a good hand. But there's one thing everyone needs to understand: the house's hand is always the best. That's why the house always wins.

"I want to raise." He placed five black chips on the table.

"Fine. I'll double." I set down two purple chips, worth twice his bet. "Going up or folding?"

"I'm not the kind of man who folds." He laid his cards face-up on the table, grinning like he could already taste victory. "Full house. Kings over queens."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd around us. It was a strong hand.

"Nice." I pushed my chair back slightly. "But not nice enough."

I turned my cards over slowly onto the green felt, and his smile died inch by inch. He didn't say a word—just stared in silence at my four aces gleaming on the table.

He looked at the pile of chips in the center, and I waited for him to do something stupid. But the guy sat completely still. I don't think he'd expected to lose tonight. After letting him stare at everything he'd just lost, I leaned forward and raked in the chips, pulling the whole stack toward me.

"You should have folded." The dealer pushed the mountain of chips my way, and just like that, the casino owner proved the simplest rule there was: the house never loses.

"I want a rematch."

I smiled and placed two purple chips in the center. He put his in too, and the game started over.

* * *

He stormed out of the casino furious, having lost every single hand. Worse—he'd gone into debt with me, borrowing money with the promise that he'd pay me back when he won. But the more he played, the deeper he sank.

I left the table with a partial victory, because I knew he'd be back tomorrow trying to win it all back, and I'd drag him down even further.

"Don, that was brutal. He's going to have to sell something from his house to pay you."

"Then let him sell. I gave him every chance to walk away, but he kept insisting on another hand. Tomorrow you're playing him, not me, and you're going to do the exact same thing. I want him owing me down to his soul."

"Okay, but what are you after? Did he do something to you?"

"Yeah. He walked into something that wasn't his. Now I need to get him out of my way, but I don't want his blood on my hands—I want him to hand over what belongs to me all on his own. Now get going, there's still work to do. Enough chit-chat." He left, and I sat at the table with a smile on my face, knowing I'd soon have exactly what I wanted.

* * *

Three days later, Jorge Sales owed me everything short of his own skin, and it was time to collect. He still hadn't figured out that he was never going to win again, and yet he showed up every night trying to claw something back. He'd lost at the poker table, at blackjack, and even at the slot machines. I walked over to the poker table, where he was standing next to a player, and looked him square in the eye.

"I don't have money to play. Can you lend me a little more?"

"Again?" I gave him a humorless smile. "You already owe me five hundred thousand dollars in loans and you have no way to pay. I pulled your file—you barely make a thousand a month. How exactly do you plan to settle this debt?" His eyes went wide and then darted around the room, clearly panicked. "That's right—I own this place, and I want my money."

"I... I'll sell my house and bring you the money..."

"Your house is worth two hundred and fifty thousand, tops. You'd still owe me half. How do you plan to cover the rest?" He went white. Completely blank. "Come up to my office. I'll give you some options."

I called two guards to come with us and we headed to my office. I had him sit down, poured myself a glass of whiskey, and settled into my chair, watching his every move.

"What do you want?" he asked, visibly terrified. I could see his hands shaking.

"You have three choices. First: you work for me for free, right here in the casino, no breaks for anything. Three hours a day to sleep, max. Nothing else. For ten years—after all, it's five hundred thousand dollars, and the debt's still accruing interest for non-payment. Second: I take you to an organ-harvesting clinic and sell everything useful inside you until the debt's paid off. Or..." I paused, smiled at him, and took a sip of whiskey.

"Or what? What's the third option?"

"Your beautiful wife." His eyes went wide and he shook his head immediately. "I want you to hand her over to me and file for divorce. Lorena Sales will be mine—forever. In exchange, I wipe your debt clean. I'll even throw in a million dollars so you can start a new life wherever you want."

"How do you know my wife?"

"Like I said, I looked into your life and saw some photos of her. She caught my eye." I swirled the whiskey in the glass. "You don't think she's worth a million and a half?"

He dropped his head, completely frozen. But no matter which option he chose, I'd get Lorena. Him delivering her to me personally would just make it sweeter.

"So—you're not leaving here tonight without an answer. If you pick option three, you go home with two of my guards, and they'll bring her back here with you. If you pick option one, you start working tonight. And if you pick option two..." I gave a small smile. "You go straight to the clinic." I leaned forward and rested my arms on the desk. "What's it going to be, Mr. Sales?"

Lorena Sales

I married Jorge because I loved him—truly loved him. But the problem with marriage is that you only start seeing someone's flaws after you've already said I do. While I was killing myself working at the hospital to help keep the house running, Jorge worked half days and spent the rest of his afternoons at a casino. The gambling had only started a few days ago, but he'd always bet on soccer games and horse races.

There were days he came home with money, but lately I'd started noticing that things were disappearing—especially the gifts my patients gave me. Bracelets, earrings, even necklaces were gone from the cabinet where I always kept my things. And when I asked if he'd seen them, he swore he never touched my stuff.

But in a house where only two people live, how do things just vanish?

Tired of fighting with him over it, I stopped accepting gifts from patients, and strangely enough, things stopped disappearing. Until one day he came home wired, acting like an addict tearing through the house looking for something to sell to feed his habit.

"You got paid today, right, Lorena?"

"Yeah, but I already went to the bank and paid the bills. I hope you paid the electric, since that was your responsibility. Tomorrow we need to go grocery shopping. How much do you have?"

"I don't have anything. If you've got some left over, give it to me—I need to buy a few things."

"I'm never giving you my money. I don't work twenty-four-hour shifts to support you. I pay the household bills because I live here and I'm not going without basic necessities, but money for you? Not a single dollar."

He smiled and shook his head, clearly not happy with my answer. Then he walked out without another word. I could already see I'd be doing this month's grocery shopping alone, because I couldn't live in a house with no food. I grabbed the car keys and went straight to the supermarket. At least if I spent my money on groceries, he wouldn't be hounding me for a loan.

Jorge was a good man—his problem was that goddamn addiction destroying his reputation. I grabbed only the essentials, trying to save as much as possible while still getting enough food to last the whole month. Then I drove home. The second I walked in and started putting groceries away on the counter, Jorge arrived with two men in suits and ties who stood planted at the front door.

"Lorena, I'm so sorry. You know how much I love you, right?" I frowned immediately.

"Why are you saying that, Jorge? What's going on? Who are they?"

"You need to come with me. I need you to understand and forgive me." The two men walked into my house without so much as an invitation, flanking me on both sides. I looked at Jorge, a strange tightness already building in my chest, trying to understand what was happening and what the hell he'd done.

"What the fuck did you do now, you idiot?" He closed his eyes, and one of the men grabbed my arm. I yanked it free. "Don't touch me, asshole. I don't owe you people anything, and I'm not going anywhere. If he owes a debt, he can pay it himself."

"They're going to kill me if you don't come, Lorena. They'll take me to a clinic, cut out my organs, and sell everything. Please—help me."

The other man took a step toward me, but I held up my hand and he stopped. Then I started walking toward the door, and they all followed. We got into a black car, and a few minutes later, we pulled up to a massive casino. The four of us got out and headed toward a staircase. One of the guards blocked Jorge, saying the Don wanted to speak to me alone.

I went up with the other guard, and the moment the door opened, I found myself in an enormous office, floor-to-ceiling glass on every wall. The owner was seated in his chair with his back to the door, facing a bookshelf lined with volumes.

"Leave us alone, S1." The guard stepped out and closed the door behind him. I glanced back for a second, then walked slowly until I stopped in front of the desk. He swiveled the chair around to face me. My heart skipped a beat. It was the man I'd saved on that dirt road.

"Hello, Lorena. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"You? Why did you have me brought here?"

"Your husband didn't tell you?" I shook my head and watched him roll his eyes. He reached for a device on the desk and spoke into it. "Bring him up here. He should've told her the truth."

The voice on the other end answered with a "yes, sir," and after a few minutes, the door opened. Jorge stumbled in, nearly tripping over the carpet. He came toward me with a look dripping with guilt, trembling all over.

"You're a real piece of work, aren't you?" Ravi said, looking at him. "Tell her what's going on, because I'm not going to be the villain of this story."

"Lorena, please forgive me..." There he went with apologies again, and I was already losing my patience. "I owe him five hundred thousand dollars. They gave me three options: work here for ten years with only three hours of sleep, have my organs harvested and sold, or... or hand you over to settle the debt." I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing.

"And you chose to bring me here like I'm your property? Just because I'm your wife doesn't make you my owner. When you decided to come to this casino, you never asked if I'd let you—so why do you think I'd agree to stay here to pay off a debt that isn't even mine?"

"You'd rather see me dead?"

"There's the option of working. Make the most of your three hours of sleep and figure out your own problems. I work myself to the bone at that hospital and you never appreciated a single thing I did, so why would I do this for you now? Deal with it yourself." I turned to leave, but when I twisted the handle, the door was locked. "Tell them to open it. I'm leaving."

"Unfortunately, that's not how this works, Lorena." He stood up from his chair. "Your husband and I already made a deal, and from today on—you're mine."