Midnight Claim
by Mara Reed
Promotional audio excerpt · Chapter 3: Laurentian Table
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Dominic found her there, not intruding, choosing a chair across the small table. "You hide well."

"I observe well," Sloane said. "Hiding is Colette's sport."

He nodded. "She asked me to lean on your stack tonight."

Sloane's spine straightened. "And?"

"I said no," Dominic said. "Tables tilt when predators team up obvious."

"Why tell me?"

"Because partnership at felt should be chosen," he said, "not assigned."

Word partnership hit like a chip click. Sloane met his eyes. "I partner with no one until I know exit routes."

"Fair," he said. "I know three."

They did not touch. Conversation was foreplay for trust, not skin. Sloane felt heat anyway, the body keeping score before the mind signed contracts.

Evening session brought new host rule: show one card on river if pot over threshold. Transparency as theater. Sloane liked it. Less room for ghost stories after checkout.

She won early with disciplined folds. Colette bled chips and compliments. Dominic stayed even, watching Sloane more when she stole pots from his left.

Hand of the night: Sloane four bet pre with aces, Dominic five bet shoved. Heart hammered. She called. Colette groaned, already folded. Board ran blank. Dominic flipped jack ten suited, missed. Sloane tabled aces, tried not to grin like amateur.

"Set up?" Colette snapped.

"Math," Sloane said.

Dominic stacked slow. "Good read. I thought you would fold to pressure."

"Pressure is air until the river," Sloane said.

Respect passed between them like a card face up. Danger too. Respect at high stakes could become intimacy without permission.

After settlement, host announced tomorrow's main event buy in. Sloane's stack qualified with room to spare. Colette qualified through loan from house, smile brittle. Dominic qualified silent.

Sloane's room at midnight: notes, shower, window cracked for cold air to clear tilt fumes. Knock again. Dominic this time with permission asked through wood. "Five minutes. Business."

She opened, chain on, tea in hand. He stayed in hall, good sign.

"Colette will offer you a deal tomorrow," he said. "Split pots, share markers. Decline."

"I was born declining bad deals," Sloane said.

"She will mention Eli."

Ice in Sloane's veins. "She does not know Eli."

"She knows how to guess pain," Dominic said. "Your face when Yara said family."

Sloane swallowed anger. "What do you want from me?"

"Honest play," he said. "If we are at final table together, I want us to count aloud, no ghosts."

"Romantic," Sloane said dry.

"Necessary," he said.