Caught in the fun

Maeve arrived at her location, her rambunctious style on full display. It's been a while since she dressed like she used to. Her gaze turned to the casino house in front of her. It was the biggest casino in the city. Her stilettos trudged to the marble floor entrance.

The poised young doorman had his professional smile on display, greeting her with respect.

"Good evening, lady, your fur coat, please," the doorman asked politely. It was now or never.

Maeve sighed much to the staff's notice. Her expression dropped to an icy glare, and her lips pulled up meticulously with a sneer. She had activated a character of her making.

Maeve scoffed with scornful disdain. "Cut the small talk, boy," she snapped. "I'm here for the high-stakes table. Show me in now," her tone demanded with impatience.

The doorman's smile faltered for a moment but regained composure, his expression stiff and cautious. "Right away, ma'am. May I see your membership card or ID, please?"

Maeve rolled her eyes, digging through her bag. "You insolent staff seriously don't know how to do your job properly."

He remained neutral. "I apologise, ma'am, but our policy requires..."

"Oh, spare me the policy lecture," she cuts in, her voice dripping with condescension. "I'm a regular here; just wave me through."

There was paused silence, and the doorman contemplated before he gave a courteous nod and complied. with his eyes never leaving hers. "Please follow me right this way, ma'am."

Maeve strode into the room, a whirlwind of opulence and rebellion. Her dressing style screamed wealth and daring to the onlookers who cared to gaze. Her fitted emerald green jumpsuit hugged her curves; its plunging neckline gave an ample view of her firm cleavage. She was radiating at the entrance of the casino. 

The chunky diamond-encrusted choker sparkled under the lights of the casino floor. She would unapologetically reclaim her love for men and excess, revealing her former self. She made her way across the gazes, her chin perched forward. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, framed by the luscious lashes and precise cat-eye liner.

Maeve's eyes scanned the crowded casino floor, her gaze lingering on the high-stakes tables. She spotted her mark—a middle-aged businessman, flush with cash and confidence.

Maeve approached him after receiving a discreet nod from across the room. They "accidentally" collided, exchanging apologies and introductions. "I'm so sorry," Maeve said, her smile dazzling. "I'm Maeve. And you are...?"

"Richard," the businessman replied, his eyes roving over her. "Nice to meet you, Maeve."

Maeve expertly extracted information about Richard's business dealings and his penchant for high-stakes gambling as they chatted. She played the part of a entiltled socialite, all the while calculating the odds and planning her next move.

Before long, Richard was inviting Maeve to join him at the high-stakes table. She accepted, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You men look like you need some womanly touch," her voice dropped low and sensual to the men seated before her. Their game paused, and attention diverted to her. Some gulped her striking figure and the devilish look in her eyes. Others watched with skepticalness.

When the silence had been stretched too thin, Richard joked loudly. "Of course, they say a woman's touch is something blessed with divinity." 

Maeve glistened as she took her seat beside him. He was a robust man with a double chin lapped over one another. Every time he spoke, you could never miss the small glitter of gold in his smile. Her gaze scattered to the rest of the players on the table. Their shocked gaze was still filled with underlying questions.

"How about we make the stakes interesting, boys?" she announced. "A bet, more valuable to each person." 

At the penthouse, Christian's eyes narrowed as he listened to the complaints from his regular investors and clients. They spoke of being swindled and of losing large sums of money to a mysterious woman who had appeared at his casino.

Christian's grip on his glass tightened. He had built his casino empire through ruthless business deals and calculated risks. He wouldn't let some con artist ruin his reputation. He would need to see for himself the cause of such a ruckus. 

Christian arrived at the Golden Casino House—a place where fortune was made and lost and secrets were currency. He made his entrance through the VIP slot. Using the private elevator to his secluded booth, where he observed the crowd above.

His attendant approached him from behind, whispering in his ear, "The person visited again tonight; how shall we proceed?"

"How is the game?" Christian asked.

"Proceeding the same as usual, it won't be long before they clock out with their win and vanish," the attendant informed.

"Get them," he ordered, his voice low and deadly. "Once they've made their move, retrieve them. I want to know what they're playing at."

Christian hardly cared about the loss inflicted upon his investors. However, he wanted to see what kind of person they were and possibly recruit them. If it seemed impossible, it was left to get rid of them and silence the whines from the investors.

Meanwhile, at the high stakes table, the game had gotten intense, with Maeve playing her part to perfection. She won hand after hand, her stack of chips growing exponentially. Richard was ecstatic, cheering her on and buying her champagne. Maeve laughed and flirted, all the while keeping a close eye on the clock. It would be time to go home soon. She smirked, seeing as the game had been cornered as she planned. 

Time to bring it home.

"I win, boys," Maeve said with a confident grin. Richard was full of praises for her. Contrary to the glum faces that surrounded them then. She packed her win closer as the other guest left the table. 

Just then, one of the staff's approached the table. Maeve glanced at them curious as to why they had come. "A client would like to have a word with you, miss." 

"I am not receiving any clients. It's already late tonight. Maybe next time I visit," she said to the staff dismissively. Some of the bodyguards have stationed themselves at the exit. She glanced at Richard; her gaze panicked. 

He wore the same skeptocal expression as her. This was not in the agreement. Maeve breathed a deep sigh before she looked at the staff once more. "Fine, show to where this client is." Maybe she would figure out her escape from there. She thought, walking behind the tail of the staff. Her hands clutched her bag tightly; her nerves were unsettled.