Double sixes.
The dice sat on the board, taunting her. Twelve spaces. Natalia's eyes traced the inevitable path—St. Charles Place, States Avenue, Virginia Avenue, and then the soft click of her battleship token settling onto New York Avenue. The blood-red hotel gleamed under the common room's lights like a executioner's blade.
She lifted her gaze to find Satori watching her, that infuriating smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His dark eyes held more than simple victory—there was possession there, a private heat that made something low in her belly clench even as fury coiled in her chest.
The fact that their one-eyed, perpetually drunk Teaching Assistant was still draped across his shoulders like a living scarf only stoked the jealous fire burning in her gut.
From his position on the couch, Juan didn't bother opening his eyes. "One thousand, one hundred dollars," he announced to the room, his tone carrying all the enthusiasm of someone reading a grocery list.
