Made Men

11. Sore Loser

The unfortunate night of drunken regrets started with a nice and easy game of strip poker.

Correction, it was supposed to be an easy game but Vereena hadn't the faintest idea about the rules. She had never played poker, deeming it as pervert's version of heaven.

"Would you look at that, I win again. Take your necklace off." She gave the unfazed man a deathly glare, sneaking a glimpse down at her exposed body. She was half-naked, and the game had only begun.

"Wha—no! I don't get how I lost that round too," she defended, a deep pout forming on her plump lips.

Still, she unclipped the dainty chain around her neck and placed it down on the table.

She was in a black cotton bra and some matching black men style women's briefs. She had gotten the unfortunate choice of underwear when she realised she had no clothes or intimates to wear once after finishing her morning shower. Asking the sweet elderly chef, who quite clearly did not think to supply her with lingerie, was biting her in the ass. Literally.

Vito leaned back against the sofa, fully clothed in his t-shirt and grey jogging bottoms. He didn't seem interested in her body, too busy infuriated by his own raging anger issues.

His tattoos were peeking out and marking his veiny arms as he tucked them behind his head. "You had the worst hand between us. Poker is relatively easy to understand unless you lack brain cells from all that crack you snort."

She mocked him, falling back onto the sofa. The cold leather hit her skin sending goosebumps all down her arms and legs. "I haven't been able to lose any since the so-called crack I've been getting has been baby powder."

He sucked in a steady breath, discerning that glint behind her eyes. "I told you, bimba. I sell pure fucking coke."

"Yeah, that's what the babies probably think, that fake shit is like heaven to them."

He was struggling to maintain his frustrations, the younger girl was so fucking annoying. Slipping one of the many tokens between his long fingers, it was thrown in her direction. Palming her straight in the face.

She flinched as the plastic hit her nose bridge, then plopped down onto her lap.

This game was supposed to be fun and sexual, somehow she was sucking the life out of it.

"I thought you don't harm women." Vereena snapped in annoyance, shoving the chip off her lap. "All you've done so far is abuse me."

He answered, very calmly might she add. "Correct. I don't harm women. Say, have you ever taken a good look at yourself in the mirror by any chance?"

Just play the freaking game, Vee, she told herself, not wanting to sink to his level of taunts.

"Sure I have. I could only see an uptight jackass," she muttered under her breath, sending him a sickly sweet smile. "Oh my, I must be your long lost twin!"

This time, many more chips plummeted at her like hellfire, she let out a sudden outcry. "Dude, what the fuck!"

"I am not your 'dude'," he spat, appalled at her vocabulary. "I give my sincerest apologies for that surprise attack, my hand seems to be twitching uncontrollably. Uh-oh, it appears to be reaching for my loaded gun."

She stole a quick fleeting glance his way, watching his right hand snake into his pants and disappear. With the other hand, he pushed his shirt up a little, revealing the signature silver hand pistol.

Her swallow hurt. She mustered up a smile, snapping her head back onto the cards. "Your turn, sir."

Sir, his ears perked up at the snarky use of the word.