?Chapter 720:


    Hell’s gaze never wavered as he locked eyes with her, his stare predatory—calcting, unwavering.


    He leaned back slightly, his tone nonchnt yetced with an undeniable edge. “If you win, I will grant you one request.”


    A ripple of surprise ran through the room.


    The rumors about Mr. Martel’s generosity were well-known, but hearing him say it so inly made the promise seem almost too good to be true. If this woman won, she could have whatever she wanted.


    Corrine remained unshaken, herposure as solid as granite. She casually gestured to a nearby staff member for a cocktail. “And if I lose?” she asked, her voice calm but sharp.


    Hell’s gaze flickered upward, his amber eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that seemed to strip away any pretense.


    His presence was maic, like a predator sizing up its prey. He was as unyielding as steel.


    After a long pause, his lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. “If you lose, you’ll follow me tonight.”


    The words sliced through the air like a de, and in an instant, the atmosphere in the casino froze.


    Even as Corrine struggled to maintain herposure, she couldn’t mask the flicker of surprise that danced in her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct, so brazen.


    But the cold,manding force in his voice left no room for doubt. If this was a joke, it was one with very real consequences.


    Her gaze darkened, the edge of her lips curling into a faint, frigid smile. “Mr. Martel, are you so certain I’ll lose?” she asked, her voice carrying an almost imperceptible challenge.


    “I have no doubt I won’t,” Hell replied, his tone cool, dripping with a quiet arrogance that seemed to ripple through the air. It wasn’t a boast—it was a statement of fact.


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    Corrine narrowed her eyes slightly, the tension between them thickening. “And what exactly do you want to y?” she inquired, her curiosity piqued despite the undercurrent of suspicion.


    “Let’s see whose luck holds out,” he suggested, a gleam of amusement dancing in his eyes.


    A momentter, the dealer appeared, his hands swift and practiced as he began dealing the cards, the sound of them shuffling the only noise that broke the silence.


    Corrine, with unruffled elegance, took a sip of her cocktail before lifting the corner of her card just enough to glimpse its number. Her expression remained unreadable, the calmness of her demeanor hiding any hint of uncertainty. The game was just beginning.


    Hell had been observing Corrine, his gaze sharp as a hawk’s, cutting through theyers she carefully ced around herself, seeking to expose her true thoughts.


    The dealer’s voice broke the silence. “Would you like to draw another card?”


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