"But my hand—"
Kirsten was still trying to explain that she had a guaranteed winning hand when Zack cut her off.
"Ms. Clarke," he said calmly, his tone even but edged with quiet authority, "Mr. Fletcher doesn't appreciate employees who keep him waiting."
The words struck like cold water, dousing every spark of adrenaline and excitement that had flared inside her just moments ago.
Kirsten's expression sobered immediately. She set her cards down and rose from her seat.
Around the table, the men who had been crushed by her sharp play all exhaled in unison, relief washing over their faces as though they'd just been spared from execution.
Zack gave her a polite nod, signaling that she could go. Then, without missing a beat, he sat down in her place.
He glanced once at the table, once at
