The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 22

**Dust Writes New Stories**
by Rei Holt Wilder

As I looked up, our eyes locked, and I was met with a mask of neutrality. Devon Kane’s expression revealed nothing; if he felt any surprise at my presence, he certainly didn’t let it show. Instead, he regarded me with the cool detachment of someone encountering a stranger on the street, nodding in acknowledgment before redirecting his focus to the cards in his hand.

“Ms. Harper,” he greeted me in a tone that was both formal and distant, as if he were addressing an acquaintance at a formal event. “What brings you here?”

His curt greeting struck me like a slap, the sting more intense than I had anticipated. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could gather my thoughts, Christopher Quinn interjected, his voice bright and inviting.

“You play Texas Hold’em, Aria?” he asked, flashing a disarming smile that could charm anyone. “We could really use some fresh blood around here. These guys are becoming so predictable.”

I could feel Devon’s gaze flicker back to me, something dark and dangerous flickering in his eyes, as he replied quietly, “Quinn, it’s your bet.”

“Right, right,” Christopher said, tossing a pile of chips into the center pot with a flourish before turning back to me. “But seriously, you should join us for the next hand. I’d love to see how you play.”

Ryan, sitting beside me, nudged my arm with a grin. “You should definitely learn from the master. Devon here has cleaned me out more times than I can count.”

To my astonishment, Devon reached over and pulled out the chair next to him, an unspoken invitation that caused the other players to exchange curious glances. I hesitated for a heartbeat, acutely aware of the weight of their stares, before finally sliding into the offered seat.

“Devon never lets anyone sit that close,” I overheard a woman whisper to her companion, her voice just loud enough for me to catch the words.

Devon, seemingly unfazed by the comment, focused intently on the game, finishing the hand with a straight flush that netted him a substantial pot. As the dealer began to shuffle for the next round, Devon turned toward me, his expression unreadable.

“You can play this hand for me,” he said, sliding a stack of chips in my direction. “If you win, it’s yours. If you lose, I’ll cover it.”

The game pressed on for another hour, and I observed as Devon quickly regained most of his losses. Each move he made was calculated, a testament to his sharp intellect. He wasn’t merely playing the cards; he was reading the other players, deciphering their tells, and manipulating their responses with an ease that was almost mesmerizing.

Just as Devon won a particularly impressive pot, his phone buzzed insistently. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting slightly before he stood up, gathering his chips with a sense of urgency.

“Gentlemen, ladies, I regret to inform you that I have an emergency board meeting to attend,” he announced, his voice steady. “Quinn, please settle up for me.”

As he prepared to leave, Ryan leaned toward me, a conspiratorial smile dancing on his lips. “Is it just my imagination, or does it seem like Devon is interested in you? I’ve never seen him let anyone get that close during a game.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I stammered, “We just signed a contract for Stellar to manage Kane Technology’s new product line marketing,” I explained, the partial truth rolling off my tongue with surprising ease. “He’s probably just being polite.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his face. “Devon Kane doesn’t do polite without a reason.”