He thinks you’re good luck.

You were no stranger to a casino, since you were a singer at one. A club particularly owned by the one and only Daniel Meadows. A billionaire with a knack for blowing away money. You made your rounds around the casino till you felt a hand grab your waist and pull you into their lap.

He rested his chin on your shoulder flashing you his cards as he grumbled, focused on the game.

“I need my good luck charm.”