Chapter 3

Elizabeth sat at the empty blackjack table, drumming her fingers against the soft, green felt. She yawned, reaching for her glass of champagne, coming to terms with her boredom. She was on a gambling boat with the finest of Port Charles high society, so there should have been something to keep her interested.

Then again, she had just wiped out an entire table of middle aged business men playing blackjack. It wasn't her fault that they had been to busy staring at her bust or getting lost in their dirty thoughts every time she batted her eyes at them. She had no desire to even win, but once she sat down, it came so easily.

She wasn't used to be so adored by every man that she passed, but she also wasn't used to flaunting herself in such a ridiculous manner. Usually, she spent most of her time as a wallflower; lingering in doorways or standing next to the buffet table, leaving little time to be accosted.

In her own defense, she wasn't flaunting herself when the night began. She was just admiring a beautiful photograph that not only someone with taste, but true admiration for Italian architecture had chosen. She never expected someone to notice her when she was literally staring at the wall.

And while it probably sounded silly, ever since he'd looked at her with those cerulean eyes, she'd felt a spark light somewhere deep inside her. She was embarrassed when she thought about how she had treated him; coming off so short and cold when in actuality she was truly charmed by the way he spoke about the photograph.

Elizabeth had grown up in a man's world. Heaven forbid that a woman actually know something about a building (made by a man nonetheless), let alone how to actually build one. She was used to condescending tones and crude remarks about how her skills were best suited for a classroom. She didn't mind though because it forced her to be so focused and determined to prove herself, which is what she blamed her poor attitude towards Jason on.

She'd come to terms that a man only wanted a short list of things from her; to pick her brain to better their own ideas (she'd lost count how many times someone had stolen an idea of her own and used it themselves, giving her no credit), to berate her (because she actually was smarter or more capable than they were), or to sleep with her (which was the most upsetting of all).

So, it was nice to find someone else proclaim their obsession with Italy. She'd been several times, always taking trips alone whenever she traveled abroad. There was no better way than to see Italy than with your own eyes and heart guiding you. She feared that bringing someone would only ruin the experience. She thrived on living on her own schedule, wandering beneath the ancient buildings that she'd studied, and the last thing she wanted was a straggler making a mess of everything.

"Is it a good or bad sign when you're the last one left at a table?" came a familiar voice behind her.

She didn't have to turn around to know it was him. His gentle voice sent a shiver down her spine and she felt the color rush to her cheeks.

"Ms. Webber," he said, his breath hot on her ear. "Please don't tell me you're counting cards."

Her mouth started to fall open, but she caught herself, spinning around in her chair to face him. "How dare you insinuate-"

"I've been watching you," he murmured, sitting down in the empty chair beside her.

His cerulean orbs remained locked on hers as he leaned towards her, placing a hand on her knee. There was silk between her skin and his palm, leaving her only to imagine what it would feel like to have his hand on her bare skin.

"More like stalking me," she replied, raising her eyebrows at him. She had to do her best to gathering her bearings or else he would surely one up her. She nodded at Johnny who was standing several feet away. "Or rather, sending the hired help in your place."

"He's not hired help," he said, glancing in Johnny's direction as he spun Elizabeth back towards the blackjack table. "He's my business partner."

"And just what kind of business are you in?" she asked, leaning in towards him and narrowing her eyes at him.

She wasn't sure why she felt so drawn to him. She'd talked to him for all of fifteen minutes, and yet she'd longed to talk to him again ever since she walked away.

Maybe it was the way his eyes softened when he looked in her direction. She'd noticed the way he looked at all the others in the casino; eyes murky and cast downward whenever he passed someone making it obvious he had no desire to speak to them. Or maybe it was the crinkle in them when he smiled at her. She could tell right off that he was a man who didn't show his emotions; prohibiting grins and laughter.

But he had spoken to her in a gentle voice, his eyes illuminated with curiosity and amusement. The good kind of amusement-where he wasn't laughing at her. And he'd even smiled, lips turned upward, his face filled with pure delight.

It also couldn't help that he was easily the most attractive man in the room. Dazzling eyes, gorgeous short blonde hair, and he filled out a tuxedo in a way that most men dreamed.

And he was talking to her.

"What kind of business am I in?" he repeated her question, swirling his drink around in his hand, his hand still on her knee. "That depends on who you're asking."

"I'm asking you," she replied, sliding her hand over his. His skin was so rough beneath hers and she got the distinct impression that he was a man who worked hard for a living.

His eyes widened at the touch of her hand on his and he moved to link his fingers in hers, but she brushed his hand away before he could.

"If you're sitting here," she said, leaning towards him. "I expect you to play cards."

"I suppose I can't feel too bad taking your money seeing as you went about winning it by cheating," he replied, pulling chips from his pocket and laying them on the table.

"You're awfully presumptuous," she muttered, turning back to her stack of chips. She watched as he pulled more from his pocket, until his stack equally matched hers.

He was such a man.

"Do you know how to count cards?" Jason asked bluntly in a low voice, eyeing the dealer as he shuffled cards.

Elizabeth picked up her glass of champagne, taking a long sip to buy her time. She wondered if there was a right or wrong answer. She could lie, but if he had been watching her, he already knew the truth.

"You'll just have to take your chances," she murmured, her eyes darting from Jason to the dealer.

He shook his head, a slow grin spreading across his lips as their cards were dealt. She was relieved when he didn't call her out, making a big spectacle of it all. She knew that all the men she'd just swindled out of their money wouldn't be so apt to let it go.

"Hm," he muttered, furrowing his brow when he looked down at his cards.

She looked over him, trying to read his expression, but she knew so little about him that it was difficult. Not to mention, it was easy to get in lost in the cut of his jaw line, the intensity of his eyes, and the way his lip twitched upward while he contemplated his next move.

His shoulders tensed momentarily, but he quickly relaxed, settling back in his chair as he met the dealer's eye. She briefly wondered if he had an actual physical flaw, his eye catching hers as she stared at him.

No, she concluded, he definitely didn't have one.

"I called," he said, leaning towards her, looking confused.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she murmured, rubbing her hand over her neck in embarrassment when she realized she hadn't even looked at her cards.

She glanced at his cards. He had an Ace of Spades turned upward and the dealer had hit him with Four of Clubs. Great, she told herself, looking at her sad Ten of Hearts. She slid her slender fingers over the card, sliding her thumb beneath it. It was hard not to fight her grin when she saw the Jack of Diamonds. Looking back at the table, she moved to double his bet after motioning to stay, and he sighed with surprise beside her.

"You sweating over there under that fancy collar?" she asked, sitting back in her seat feeling pleased with herself.

"I don't sweat," he replied, nodding to the table when he called her bet, then nearly tripled it. "But I wouldn't mind you seeing you sweat."

She bit her lip, looking down at her cards when she felt herself blushing. "Too bad you probably never will," she murmured, calling his bet, but not raising it.

"You said probably, so I must still have a chance," he replied, nodding towards her chips. "And you didn't raise, that's a sure sign of weakness."

"Or maybe I don't want to feel too guilty when I take your money," she said smugly, finishing off her glass of champagne.

She rested her chin in her hand as the dealer flipped the cards over.

"Shit," she muttered, gritting her teeth in annoyance when the dealer flipped over her Jack of Diamonds and his Six of Hearts.

Twenty-one.

Asshole.

"Oh, not so cocky are we now," Jason replied, mocking her previous smug tone. "You just never know when the cards are going to turn."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, tossing down her chips to buy in, and refused to meet his smirking face. She could feel his eyes on her face, tracing over her profile, then down over her chest. Sighing as if she were bored, she waved the dealer to hit her without even looking at what card she had flipped over.

"A true gambler," he muttered beside her, raising his bet. "Or rather a true counter."

"Better than just being an asshole," she said, tipping her head to the side, still resting it in her hand. She was determined to do her damnedest to ignore him. Sliding her thumb under card, she saw a Two of Diamonds, which added up to seventeen with her other two cards.

Great, she was going to lose again and he was probably going to proclaim himself the best blackjack player in history.

"Ooo," he said, wincing beside her when the dealer revealed he had nineteen.

She just waved her hand nonchalantly, refusing to let him know he was getting under her skin when all she really wanted to do was smack him upside his head. Or in his face-just like she had done his little friend.

And so the next several hands went like that; Jason taking Elizabeth's money, muttering smugly under his breath and growing annoyed that she wasn't giving him any kind of response.

Eventually, other men sat down one by one at their table, no longer intimidated by Elizabeth. It was as if Jason's presence overshadowed hers and they were simply humoring her by sitting down and playing with her.

God, she really hated men.

She'd allow him to throw her off track and soon she'd lost count of the cards. No doubt he'd done that intentionally, boosting his own ego in the process. So, she sat back in her seat, observing the other men as they all took their turns, sipping a glass of champagne a waiter that she'd managed to snatch from a passing tray.

She'd learned her poker face from her father, who had taught her how to watch a player's face and their body language to determine what they held in their hands. He'd also taught her to count cards, blackjack proving to be the most difficult for her. She'd spent hours as a kid with stacks of card decks, shuffling and dealing, until she had it down pat. And sadly, she'd only done it only to get some kind of approval from her father, but hey, at least it was paying off now.

The man opposite from her had no idea whatsoever how to play and if it wasn't for the guidance of the man sitting next to him, he'd most likely be completely broke at this point. She was sure they were in some kind of deal to share their winnings-too bad there wouldn't be any. Neither of them raised at the right time, let alone paid much attention to anyone else's cards.

The third man at the table was wearing a terribly crooked bow tie that was screaming to be straightened. His ways of playing were about just as crooked. No doubt, he somewhat knew how to count cards, but would have been better off at a different table. There were so many cards here to keep up with and it was throwing him off.

And then there was Jason, who'd barely acknowledged the other men when they sat, and yet they all seemed vying for his attention. He kept his eyes fixated on his cards and occasionally her, checking mostly to see if Elizabeth was staring at him, which most of the time she was. She noticed the way his eyes swept across the table, then glanced up at the dealer, then back down at the cards. Every move he made seemed so carefully articulately, just as Elizabeth's were.

She folded, knowing that the dealer was going to flip up a low card to the first man, a face card to the second, and she suspected-just a gut feeling-an ace to Jason. The third man had already busted.

Sure enough, the first man got a Five of Hearts, only to fold. The third man got a King of Spades to go along with his matching Six. And Jason got an Ace of Diamonds, a pleasing grin spreading immediately onto his lips. He wagered high, flashing a smug look to the other man.

Oh, the nerve of that son of a bitch, she thought to herself, her eyes widening in disbelief. He was just as guilty of counting as she was.

"Elizabeth," Jason said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She jumped at the touch, then shrugged his hand off her bare shoulder. "Sorry, I was just uh-"

"Just what?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Thinking about how I'm going to win my money back," she spat, glaring at his ever growing pile of chips, more than half that he'd collected from hers.

"Are you feeling lucky?' he asked, leaning toward her, completely disregarding the other men at the table.

"I have a hundred bucks," she said with a frown as she smacked her chips together. "Thirty minutes ago, I had about two thousand. How do you think I'm feeling?"

"Two thousand dollars that you won by cheating," he replied, daring her to argue with him. "So, you may want to recount your losses."

He glanced at the other men at the table when he noticed their irritation with him slowing the game. With one look, the three of them retreated hurriedly, and Elizabeth couldn't understand why.

Satisfied that they were leaving, he turned back to her, "But I am willing to help you win it back." He gave her a mischievous grin, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to win the money back.

"If you want me to show you my boobs," she replied, narrowing her blue eyes at him, "that is so not opening."

He grinned, his eyes dipping to her chest, and she had to fight yet another urge to smack him upside his head. "While I appreciate the thought, I had something else in mind," he said mysteriously.

She held her hands over her chest, blocking her cleavage from his wandering eyes and sat back. "I'm not sure I even want to know," she replied, trying to fight the desire to smile.

"All or nothing," he said, holding his hand up and motioning at his stack of chips. "You win, you get all of yours and mine, which is a little over four thousand dollars."

"And if I lose?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. "I'm seriously not going to show you my boobs."

"I'm not going to pay you to show me your bo-" He paused, stumbling over the word.

"Boobs," she offered, tilting her head and half smiling flirtatiously. He almost looked embarrassed, so she said it again.

"Elizabeth-"

"What? Are you not a boob guy?" she asked, laughing softly to herself.

"I like them very much," he replied, refusing to say the word. "But I don't pay women to take their clothes off."

"Oh, you mean they just rip them off for you?"

He grunted, rolling his eyes. "I didn't mean it like-"

"Anyway, so what's your wager?" she interrupted, eyeing his stack of chips. Yanking his chain was not as fun as taking his money. "I want to win my four grand back."

"You're awfully sure."

"Well, I'm better than you."

"Are you judging from your losses?" he asked, nodding at her measly two chips.

"What. Is. Your. Wager?" she asked slowly, growing annoyed.

He seemed to feel the need to draw every interaction out and it was rather exhausting. She wanted to get her money and leave, and now that she was back on track she knew she could.

"You lose," he said hesitantly, "and you come back to my room and have a drink with me."

"A drink?" she asked, rolling her eyes. She bit her lip, torn between losing on purpose and winning her money and walking away with her pride. She decided to go for the dramatics, hoping he would drop the offer entirely. "If you get me drunk, I still won't show you my boobs."

"I don't want to see your damn-"

"What's wrong with my boobs?" she asked, looking down at her chest. He laughed at her, but not in that you're being ridiculous kind of way. Instead he seemed to be rather endeared by her antics. "Seriously. My boobs-"

"Are perfect," he cut in and she blushed, looking away instantly.

He was humoring her, which should have annoyed her, but he'd been looking at her chest enough to know.

"I pay you a compliment and you-"

"Deal us in, please," she interrupted, leaning forward to glance at the cards that were on the table. Shifting her eyes to Jason, she looked at him intently. "Four grand, huh? A drink with me is worth that much?"

"I'd pay more," he replied seriously and she shook her head as she looked down at her cards.

She had an Ten of Spades flipped upwards and her other card was a Jack of Hearts. Glancing at Jason's hand she saw a Queen of Diamonds. If she was on the right track, the dealer would hit him with another face card. The only question was what he had hidden beneath his other hand. She was almost positive that it wasn't a ten or higher, but she could never be quite sure.

Especially when Jason seemed so sure that he could win.

"Stop," he said, shaking his head at her.

"I am not doing anything," she replied, motioning to stay.

She wasn't surprised when Jason did also.

"Well, I suppose this is it," he said, nodding at the dealer to turn their cards over.

Elizabeth squealed softly, sitting back in her chair with a happy grin when the dealer flipped a Nine of Clubs over besides Jason's Queen. She had won. And judging from the look on his face, he honestly hadn't expected her to.

Moving to her feet, she leaned in front of him, swiping all his chips away. "Oh, you just never know when the cards are going to turn," she mocked, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye.

"That's not fair," he replied, and she could have sworn he almost looked sad.

"Here's a tip," she murmured, leaning in close to his face. "Maybe the next time you should challenge someone who doesn't count cards better than you."