A six of spades, a two of hearts, a five of diamonds, a four of clubs and a two of spades.

A losing hand.

Those five cards are what you hold. In this dim room, clouds of smoke twisting in the air, amber lighting soaking into the man opposite you.

Vincenzo Zeni.

Italian’s underground head of house.

Also, your boss.

The muffled jazz drifting around the casino is meant to calm you. It’s not.

But with a pile of chips in front of you, thousands of your cash. You have to pretend it does.

Vincenzo sits there, face like steel, eyes flicking over each person on the round table. You can’t get a read on him, he’s trying to get one on you.

Fuckers got a good poker face.