Raven actually agreed.
“Thanks,” Sydney said, searching her friend’s dark eyes for any type of understanding or compassion. She found only distance. “Raven, I really wanted to talk to you tonight. With Morgan.”
Raven nodded slowly. “I think that’s a great idea.”
She swallowed. “After poker?”
“Sure. Let’s play a few rounds, and I’ll cut the night a bit early.”
“Thanks.”
She slid into her seat, opened her purse, and bought her chips. They were just about to begin the first round when the door opened and a woman dressed in snug jeans, a cashmere cardigan, and Ugg boots waltzed in. Her soft brown hair was swept up in a fashionable ponytail. Her makeup was flawless, and she sported her signature bright red lips.
Sydney almost closed her eyes in horror.
Not her. Anyone but her. She just didn’t have the energy tonight.
But when she peeked back, the woman hadn’t left. She was talking with Raven, who nodded and motioned her to take a seat at the table.
Cynthia.
The one she’d battled with after the ballet and Tristan’s new enemy. Right away, the woman’s dark brown eyes focused on her. Was that a glint of evil glee in her eyes or was she being paranoid? Oh, God, why had she lost it and brought Christian Grey into their fight?
“Sydney Greene-Seymour,” Cynthia purred, strolling over to take the seat next to her. Had she emphasized her last name on purpose? “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Hi, Cynthia. I didn’t know you played poker.”
“Oh, it’s been on my bucket list for years, so when I heard about this little weekly gathering, I thought it would be fun to try it out.” She handed Raven a large bill and took her chips. Raven introduced her to the women, who engaged in casual chatter, and Morgan began to deal the cards. Sydney decided the entire evening was cursed. She’d concentrate on playing poker and try not to draw any extra attention. Small circles of conversation rose up around her. Cynthia sipped her wine, and they played the first few rounds. She began to relax. Maybe Cynthia really did just want to play cards and make some friends. Maybe Sydney had overreacted. How many times had she warned Becca not to look for trouble until it bit you on the ass?
Well, not in those same exact words.
“Jacks are wild,” Morgan called out, dealing another round. Sydney glanced at her cards.
“Rumor has it you got married two weeks ago,” Cynthia said casually, her glossy red fingernails sorting through her cards. “Tristan Pierce, huh? The man who took Becca to the ballet recital? The one you said was just a friend?”
Oh, yeah. She’d been right all along. Cynthia had just been biding her time.
“That’s right.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Lucy told me Becca was saying in school he was her real father. Imagine my surprise when I heard. How did Becca take the news? I mean, I think we all assumed her father was your ex-husband.”
A hot flush of anger flooded her. She swallowed and tried not to engage. “I’m glad the truth is finally out and that we can all finally be together,” she said simply. “Becca is happy. We all are.”
“How wonderful.” Cynthia tapped a finger against her cards. “But I’m sure Becca was rather confused regarding your short marriage. Has she forgiven you for lying about her father?” She gave a mock shudder. “The whole thing must’ve been so stressful. Keeping such a big secret in a small town and all. Such awful gossip. What made you finally tell the truth? And get married?”
Sydney stiffened. Becca was excited to tell everyone her parents were now married. Excited about having Tristan in her life. Taking such innocent happiness and twisting it into hurt was wrong on too many levels. She knew then the only reason Cynthia had come to poker night was to get her nasty gossip and spread it around the school. She’d hoped to find Sydney here. It had been no coincidence. The woman wanted to play in the gutter?
Fine.
She’d play.
“Two, please,” she told Morgan, flipping down her cards. She scooped up the next two and studied her hand. “Becca was very excited to be reunited with Tristan. We’re happy now, and try to protect Becca. There’re many people out there who are quite vicious and want to hurt a poor little girl just for some gossip. You know the type. Right?”
“One,” Cynthia said. She perused her cards with an air of casual confidence. “How terrible. Who would be so mean? At least you figured out who her father is. Sleeping with two men at the same time can be quite tricky, but I’m just over the moon it all worked out. He even married you! Now, that’s a man with honor right there. I always knew the Pierce brothers took responsibility seriously.”
A red mist blinded her. Her hands clutched her cards. What would this woman think if she threw out the known fact her husband was cheating on her? Not that she’d ever go there. She could make her point a bit more subtly.
“You know a lot about that sort of responsibility, don’t you, Cynthia?” she asked innocently. “Isn’t this your fourth marriage?”
“Third,” Cynthia gritted out.
“Ah, that’s right. My bad. It’s so nice you were able to take a risk that many times after failure. I admire you. I truly do. I want to be that brave one day.”
The woman’s gaze swiveled around and locked with hers.
“Call,” Morgan said.
“Me too,” Carla said.
The other two women folded, along with Raven. All gazes swung to Sydney. “Raise.” She threw in three chips. Everyone whistled.
“Cynthia, you can fold or see Sydney’s raise to stay in the game,” Raven explained.
A bloodthirsty smile curved her lips. The woman flicked her wrist, and three bright red chips fell onto the green felt table. “I’ll see your raise.”
“Back to you, Syd,” Morgan called out.
“Raise,” she muttered, putting in more chips.
Cynthia shrugged and gave a fake laugh. “How fun. Things are getting interesting.” More chips fell to the center of the table.
“I raise again,” she said.
And it began. Each of them kept raising the other until a staggering pile of red chips lay in the center of the table, and they had nothing left to bet. The women stared in shocked silence.