With a poker game

The tension in the luxurious private room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Roberto, with his reptilian smile, watched Magi as if evaluating a head of livestock. Emilio, motionless, was an ice statue. Adrián, on the other hand, seemed relaxed, as if enjoying the charged atmosphere.

"A business meeting always leaves nerves on edge, Adrián," Roberto commented, taking a sip of his brandy. "And we have ahead of us the... execution of Friday's plan. A little unwinding wouldn't hurt to cement the group's trust. To make sure everyone in this room is on the same page."

Adrián arched an eyebrow, interested.

"Do you have something in mind, Roberto?"

"A poker game," the man proposed, his gaze sliding toward Magi. "Texas Hold'em. But with a special twist to make it more... interesting."

Emilio, for the first time, nodded slowly, his icy stare fixed on Magi.

"The chips will be articles of clothing," Roberto continued, a lewd smile sketching onto his lips. "Everyone starts with what they’re wearing. The last person dressed, or the one who folds, loses. The winner... well, the winner takes a 'trust bonus' from everyone present."

Magi felt the blow, but not the paralysis. It was an auction of her dignity, yes, but her mind—trained at the academy to assess threats and design escape strategies—activated. This wasn't a humiliation ritual; it was an endurance test. A power game where she could prove her mettle. Refusing meant ruining the mission through weakness. Accepting meant doing battle.

Adrián laughed, a dry and approving sound. He looked at Magi, not with lust, but with the curiosity of a scientist about to perform a cruel experiment.

"I like it. A game that separates the lukewarm from the committed. Do you accept the challenge, Magda?" he asked, but his tone left no room for refusal. It was an order, and she would take it as a direct challenge.

Magi looked at the three of them: hawks circling their prey. Instead of fear, she felt a cold rage. She wouldn't strip without a fight, and if she lost a piece, it would come at the cost of them losing two.

"I accept," she replied with a firm voice, no whispers. The red dress now felt like armor she didn't want to part with, but was willing to risk to gain control.

Roberto dealt the cards with expert hands. Magi, with the red dress feeling like a fragile bubble, looked at her cards with the concentration of a sniper. Her mind calculated the odds of winning the hand with brutal intensity, knowing that victory at the table was the only way to keep her clothes on her body.

The first round was fast. Magi, with a mediocre hand, folded immediately. Not out of fear, but tactical calculation; she wasn't going to waste chips on weak bluffs. Emilio, with an impassive bluff, won the hand. Roberto, laughing, took off his jacket effortlessly. Emilio, with the same coldness, unclasped his wristwatch, an object worth more than a year of Magi's salary. It wasn't about value, but about submission and status, and she had no intention of joining in.

The second hand, Magi was dealt a pair of Queens. A strong hand. But looking at the betting, she knew Roberto and Emilio were going all in. Calling would mean risking an article of clothing. She folded again. It wasn't the time to expose herself. Patience was her weapon.

"So soon, darling?" Roberto mocked. "You don't earn trust by being timid."

Adrián, who had been watching her intensely, won the third hand. He smiled and, without taking his eyes off her, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

The fourth hand was crucial. Magi was dealt a flush draw. She had possibilities. But the bets rose quickly. Roberto, jacketless, bet his shirt. Emilio, with his usual impassivity, called the bet. Adrián looked at them and then at Magi.

"I call," Adrián said, addressing Magi directly. "And I raise." He paused dramatically. "I raise... shoes."

It was a relatively low bet, but it was the first time they were pressuring her directly. The conservation strategy was over. She had to prove she was willing to play for real.

With her heart pounding in her chest, Magi nodded.

"I call."

The community cards didn't help her. Her flush draw vanished. Emilio, with a full house, swept the table.

"Looks like luck isn't on your side, gorgeous," Roberto said. "Time to pay up."

All eyes were fixed on her. Magi, feeling the slight sting of defeat but refusing to show humiliation, leaned down and unbuckled her red stilettos. Letting them fall to the floor, her bare feet settled onto the cold wood. She felt infinitely smaller, more ****, but not defeated. It was the entry fee, and now it was one less weight to carry.

"The game continues," Adrián announced, his smile now one of pure anticipation. "Deal again, Roberto."

Magi looked at her new cards, her concentration hardening. It wasn't about surviving. It was about winning. It was a trial by fire, and she, now barefoot, was ready to face them. If she lost, she would be the last to yield. If she won, the blow to their egos would be just as satisfying as the preservation of her dignity.