Chapter 40
PAIGE
I find Nora and Amber chatting by the bar. They smile at me. “You didn’t come!” Amber says.
“I’m sorry. I got distracted.”
“They’re almost at break time.” Nora looks at her watch. It looks like a thin classic Artemis watch, one of the many that her and Rafe’s family company produces. “Just a few more minutes.”
“Damn. I was meant to distract the other players,” I say. The information I just learned is making my head spin. I have to tell Rafe as soon as I can.
“Did Rafe ask you to do that?”
“Yeah. Apparently I have a knack for making a spectacle of myself.”
Nora’s smile widens. “I have to see this. West asked me to not distract him, so I suppose I should stay away.”
“No, no, don’t do what your boyfriend says,” I tell her. “Bothering them is half the fun. Come. Let’s go.”
I head toward the back entrance of the parlor so people can see me when I walk in. Distract the others, Rafe had said, with such confidence too. And why wouldn’t he? He’s seen me do just that before. Drink too much. Swim in a fountain. Get up on stage.
But those were natural instances, and I don’t get stage fright when there’s no planning beforehand. There’s no time for it.
I hold my champagne glass by the stem and walk through the room. The game has gone on for two hours already. People are still watching, rapt, as if it’s Wimbledon.
There’s a tight silence, like a knot tied too tight. In the center of the table is a pile of various things. Chips, yes, but also notes and checks. A large envelope.
They’re playing for more than money.
I walk slowly around the table with my eyes trained on Rafe.
He watches me, his fingers steady on the cards lying face down on the green velvet. His face is so carefully blank that I know it’s a mask. He’s minimizing his own tells.
I come to a stop beside him. The croupier has paused the game, and the weight of people’s eyes feel heavy on me.
“Hello, husband.” I run a hand over his shoulders, and I feel drunk on it, the power of this moment. My hand slides up into his hair and I bend down to kiss him.
But just as his lips meet mine, I break off and set my lips to his ear instead. “I’m annoyed. I didn’t come here to spend the night alone.”
He stiffens, and his free hand comes to rest snugly at my waist. My voice was low, but it’s quiet in here, the air tense.
I hope people hear us.
“Darling,” he says. “Entertain yourself.”
My hand tightens in his hair. “How much longer until you’re done?”
“Until I win,” he mutters. “Find someone else to entertain you.”
“When’s the break?”
“In five minutes.” His voice sounds low and angry, and it sparks something deep in my stomach. “You’re holding up the game.”
I stand and release my grip on his hair. Our eyes meet for a long, annoyed moment before I turn on my heel and walk off into one of the corridors. I open a door randomly, knowing the table can still see me, and slam it behind me.
I wait there, my back against the door, and breathe deeply. My heart is pounding.
It doesn’t take long. Less than the five minutes he said.
Rafe opens the door.
In the short period it’s open, I see the others milling behind him, rising from the table. More than a few people are watching us.
Rafe shuts the door behind us. “What was that?” he asks.
“A distraction,” I say.
“Making it seem like we’re in a fight.” His lips slowly curl. “Brilliant.”
I reach up to fix the collar of his shirt. It’s a bad habit I’m developing, but I can’t find it in me to stop. “I’ve told you before,” I say. “Apathy is the worst thing we can show. Now they all think we’re in here arguing.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Adjusting my clothes when I know for a fact my collar is straight. If you want an excuse to touch me, Wilde,” he says, “you don’t need one.”
I ignore that. It’s too close to a truth I’m not ready to admit. “How long until they come looking for you? When’s the break over?”
“Ten minutes,” he says.
“Then we stay here until someone comes looking for you.”
His smile widens. “You want to cause a scene?”
“I’ve heard what people are doing behind these doors. Plenty of people are getting busy. Let them think we argued and then slipped in here for some… private time.”
“Private time,” he echoes. “Yes.”
I glance toward the door. If someone comes earlier than that, I should be touching him. I put my hand around his neck, my fingers pressing against the rough feeling of his hair.
“How’s the game going?”
“It’s going,” he says. “Alex has already played himself out, but James, West and I are still in the game. Alvaro hasn’t wagered the castle yet. There are several rounds left, but he knows that’s what we were after, and he won’t wager it until the stakes get much higher.”
“What are you wagering?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he says. “Something I won’t hate Alex for if we end up losing.”
“I spoke to someone who says he knew you. Someone who’s sponsoring Alvaro at the table.”
His eyes immediately focus. “You did?”
“Yes. He told me what Alvaro’s tell is.”
“Why would he have done that?” Rafe asks. “Who is he?”
“I didn’t learn his name,” I say, and then run down what I was told by the stranger on the top of the yacht. I mention as many details as I can and feel Rafe grow stiller and angrier by the minute.
“Fuck,” he says, and closes his eyes. “Have you told anyone else this?”
“No. You know him?”
“Yes. He’s a former friend.” He looks at the door and then back at me. “Don’t talk to him again. Keep Nora and Amber close out there.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“He can be.” Rafe’s jaw works. “Either he told me Alvaro’s tell because it’s the truth, and he wants us to use it to win Alex’s estate back… so we owe him.”
“Or it’s a lie,” I say, “and he wants you to lose.”
“Yes.” Rafe shakes his head slowly. “But Alvaro is a risk-taker. He wouldn’t be sitting at that table if he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t have won Alex’s house if he wasn’t.” Rafe looks over at the door and then back at me. “They’ll come looking for me if I’m not back in time.”
“Good.” I reach into my clutch and pull out my red lipstick. He watches with dark eyes while I apply it. “We should give them something to talk about it.”
He shifts forward, and I grip the edges of his white shirt. I turn my face up and find his cheek and his neck. I kiss him slowly, pressing my lips to his warm skin to leave marks.
He smells like himself, like soap and man and a hint of cologne.
When I pull back, my heart has sped up and there are two smudged lipstick marks against his cheek. “There,” I murmur.
His hands have found my waist. He lifts me up and sets me on the edge of a low dresser. “Some of the players have taunted me about you already.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” His forehead brushes mine, so close we should be kissing, but we’re not.
“Have you broken?” I ask.
“No. I don’t break, Wilde. You’ve tried to push me there.” His lips brush over mine in the facsimile of a kiss. Outside the door, people are talking.
“You broke the night on the dock,” I say. His hand between my legs, and pleasure shooting through me, and the anger at having lost a point.
He wants me. He admitted as much, and how much it pained him.
But now he knows I want him too.
“I won, too,” he says. “You were wet.”
“I was,” I breathe.
“Come kiss me out there if I win?”
“Are you asking me to?”
“It would look good. In front of the others.” He brushes his lips over the corner of my mouth in an almost-kiss. I lean in.
But our kiss is interrupted by the door opening. James is standing there, looking at us like we disgust him. Behind him, the table is full of seated players again. Only two seats are empty.
“If you’re quite done,” James says.
Rafe lets me go. I jump down off the dresser, my insides too hot and churning. He’s dangerous. All this kissing… it’s dangerous.
It’s going to lead to something I can’t take back.
I follow Rafe back out into the main room. A waiter walks by with a tray of shots. Rafe reaches out and grabs one of them and knocks it back without stopping.
He heads to the table without another word.
I watch him retreat and feel the pounding of my own heart. Playing with fire, I think. He told me not to take those shots. And I’m starting to wonder if he’s just as much of a risk-taker as I am. If he’s just better at hiding it.
“What was that?” I ask the waiter.
He holds the tray toward me.
I shake my head. “No, thank you. But the dark one that my husband just took… what was in that one?”
His smile widens. “Let’s just say… you’re both going to have a very fun night.”