I looked at my cards. A natural nine. The edges were crisp. The paper felt dry under my thumb. I laid them face up on the green felt. The sound was soft. Final.
"I win," I said softly.
The words hung in the pavilion. The overhead light was warm. It pooled on the table and made the chips gleam. Outside the wooden screens, the garden was dark. Water dripped somewhere. A slow, steady sound. The air smelled like incense, old wood, and Song Mei's perfume. Jasmine and something sharper underneath.
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the edge of the table. The wood was cool against my skin. Polished to glass. I met her gaze directly. I didn't drop the billionaire persona, but I let a fraction of the underlying coldness bleed through. Just a sliver. Enough to show I wasn't a toy.
