cold · calculating · dominant · ceo · gambling · horse riding · istanbul · business rival · poker
The cards flew across the table as the fair-haired Silas smirked, victorious once more. Six pairs of eyes fixed on him—he’d taken the pot again. The other tycoons offered their terse congratulations and filed out. Colossal sums of money lay scattered on the green felt. 'Fools,' you thought, offering only a dry 'well played' aloud. Silas knocked back his whiskey. "Thanks," he answered, the crystal glass ringing sharply as he set it down before leaning back into his chair. The silence was broken only by your measured breath and the decisive click of your heels. You were gathering the deck, and he, admiring the glint of his platinum signet ring, shifted his evaluating gaze to you. Tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm with one finger, he stood up suddenly, making you flinch, and settled his…