How to Tame My Beastly Husband — Chapter 124. Gruti (9)
Translator: Atlas / Editor: Regan
Ben March was worried.
He was playing blackjack, a fairly simple game where the players had attempt to play cards that would bring them as close to twenty-one points as possible, without going over. Ben’s card total was nineteen.
He wavered, trying to decide whether to hit or stay. Twenty was not an impossible number for his opponents to reach, but if he got any card other than a two, he would lose. It was a risky game, and in this position, he had far more to lose than win.
But gamblers were men who lived for uncertainty. If they were looking for a safe choice, they wouldn’t have bet on a casino in the first place.
“Hit me,” he said, tapping the table with his index finger, and the dealer nimbly flicked him another card. Ben closed his eyes, his hand shaking as he lifted the card.
A six. His cards total twenty-five.
“Thank you for playing,” said the dealer, smiling as he retrieved his cards, along with all the money Ben had just won, which would have paid for some crucial daily expenses. Unable to contain his temper, Ben’s fist slammed down on the table, and the other players glared.
Ben staggered to his feet under their bloodshot stares. It was time to get back to his most secret bolt-hole in this stinking sewer.
Gruti was not so different from the place where he had grown up. But his experience with aristocrats had broadened his expectations. He was so sick of this filthy slum, sometimes he thought he was going crazy. But he had received a warning recently to keep his head down. Which not only reduced the money he could earn for his expenses, but the frequency of his gambling.
And no luck today either, dammit.
Ben’s head jerked in frustration. The sense that nothing he did was turning out well was making him impatient, but just at that moment, something shot past his feet.
He was about to kick the pig away, snuffling at his feet, but suddenly his eyes widened. It wasn’t just a pig, which wasn’t so strange in the slums, but a golden pig.
Among gamblers, gold was the color of good luck. That was why he always took care to choose a table that had a blonde woman nearby. But at his feet now was a golden pig the size of a small dog. Somehow, he had the idea that if he held the pig in his arms…
His luck would be enormous, at all sorts of incredible games.
Ben couldn’t help cautiously wiping his sweaty palms on his pants as he bent toward the pig. He meant to catch it as if he were fishing for trout with his hands. But the animal was more agile than it looked.
Startled by his reckless grab, the pig fled, darting between peoples’ feet with the agility of a squirrel as Ben raced after it. Every person he tripped over cursed at him, but he didn’t care. Panting, he cornered it, slowly approaching as a greedy smile appeared on his thin lips.
A white hand appeared from nowhere to stop him, easily lifting the pig.
“Pardon me. I think my pet has caused you some trouble.”
The strange man’s red lips sneered at him.
It was an embarrassing situation. Caught chasing someone else’s pet pig. But gamblers were also generally good liars, and shameless beggars. And this man was well dressed. Maybe he could turn this situation to his advantage.
“You should take better care of your pet,” he said, aggrieved, immediately blaming the stranger for his own greed . “Why are you playing tricks on people?”
He rubbed one of his calves as if it had been injured, deliberately making a scene.
“Oh, God, he ran away after he bit me in the leg. I have to work tomorrow, but how will I do that now?”
Actually, yesterday he had gotten into an argument with another man at the casino, and the fellow had kicked him in the calf. He had been upset at the time, but now it seemed like a spot of luck as Ben pulled up the leg of his trousers, revealing the bruise.
But when he looked up to check the other man’s reaction, he was surprised.
Was he that handsome before?
The tall man before him was very nearly beautiful. His face was whiter than most ladies’, and went well with his dark blue hair, accentuating his natural beauty. His ruby-red eyes were sharp and clever, and glanced down at Ben’s calf with a strange glow.
“That’s odd,” he said. “This guy doesn’t bite people.”
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