“I said call.” Dante’s tone gave away nothing. “Unless of course, you’re folding.”Glancing up from his cards, Ronan glared at the bane of his existence. A few years older than him, Dante was everything he wasn’t. Street smart and tough, all the man had to do was sit across from him, his white dress shirt parted at the throat with its black silk tie undone, and fedora tipped at a rakish angle. It almost made him sick how easily Dante pulled it off. He was the epitome of dark and dangerous. But at the moment, Ronan couldn’t let the man’s sinisterly good looks sway him. Even if he was a sucker for a man with a heavy five o’clock shadow, Ronan had to win this hand.