But if Aurelia’s presence here went public, it would ruin her. He couldn’t do that to Will or Declan. Instead, he traced the rim of his glass as he stared at her, hoping she grasped the full extent of his fury. Hoping she was afraid.
“We play for high stakes.” He raked her with his eyes. “Too high for you, I am certain.”
He knew the dig would wound. He knew because he knew of her brother’s dwindling funds. Her pin money could not be very prodigious.
She sniffed and pulled back her shoulders. An action that only pushed out those magnificent breasts. Everything in him twisted tight as the edge of an areola, dusky dark where it met her olive-hued skin, came into view. Reaching for his glass he downed it and signaled for another one.
And he wasn’t the only one getting an eyeful. Every man at the table was looking, salivating at the sight of her flesh. Scowling, he took in each of their hungry stares before returning his gaze to her.
“High stakes don’t frighten me,” she announced.
“They should,” he growled, and then added beneath his breath, “Daft girl.”
She heard him. Or read his lips. The hands that rested on the top of the table curled into fists. “What’s amiss? Afraid you will lose?”
“One night upstairs,” the man to his left blurted, boldly tossing down the gauntlet. “Winner claims one night with you in an upstairs chamber,” he clarified, as though his meaning wasn’t evident. The bastard then winked at Aurelia.
Max arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to flee. Now she would surely see. Now she would understand that she had gotten in over her head. He watched, waiting for her to come to her senses and excuse herself.
Her brown eyes locked on his as she asked, “And if I win?”
He slid his hands beneath the table and gripped his thighs, his fingers digging deep as he leaned forward. Mad chit. She was not doing this. He shook his head once at her. Hard.
“Whatever you want. Name your prize,” one of the other men offered, leering at her chest as he did so.
Her gaze roamed over each man at the table, assessing. Four in all, counting him. She thought she could best all of them? She was playing with fire and she knew it.
“I’ll have . . .” Aurelia paused, her gaze resting on him again, considering. “Your clothes.”
The man beside him choked. “Our clothes?”
She nodded, smiling pertly.
“You’ll have each of us strip down to our bare arse right here?” another demanded.
“You cannot think to win. You will lose,” Max hissed, letting that sink in her fool head. She would lose and be at the mercy of one of them. In that moment, he did not think she would prefer to be subject to him. Not as furious as he was.
She shrugged one shoulder. It looked as smooth as marble, and he imagined touching it, stroking the flesh and discovering if it was as soft as it appeared. One of the men at this table could very well win that privilege if he let her do this. Daft female. He should just walk away. Let one of them have her. It would serve her right, playing with fire.
And yet she was Will’s sister. He couldn’t leave her to these wolves.
“I’m in,” he announced, hating to utter the words even as he had no choice. He would take the wager and he would win and save her from this fine mess.
He admitted there would be some satisfaction in beating her. She thought she could win. For no other reason would she have agreed to these terms. He would relish besting her.