Ramsay(6)

But I squinted my eyes, trying to look closer. I couldn't make out the  man's exact features from this distance, but from what I could see, he  looked gorgeous. If my own vision hadn't told me, the gaggle of  women-now including Lindsey-vying for his attention, preening and  prancing around him despite the woman at his side, would have clued me  in. And the woman at his side, although she wasn't touching him, she was  clearly possessive, turning her shoulder toward women who got too  close, flipping her hair in what looked like annoyance.                       
       
           



       

"Daisy," I asked distractedly, "do you know who that man is?" I inclined  my head toward him and Daisy followed my nod, watching him for a  moment.

"No, but he's something to look at, isn't he?" We were both quiet as we  stared. "I don't think I've ever seen him before. Should we head on down  and introduce ourselves?" She winked at me.

I shook my head, biting my lip, the same strange feeling swirling in my  belly. "No," I said, looking back to where he stood. "He has a date.  Anyway, I think he's leaving." The brunette at his side had just leaned  in and whispered something in his ear, and he'd nodded and started  shaking hands with those around him. Daisy and I watched as he strode  off, the woman at his side. There was something in the man's walk, too. A  familiar movement. I frowned, confused again. Shaking my head slightly,  I took a big drink of champagne, dismissing the strange feeling. It  just couldn't be.

Just as the couple were about to exit through the gate that led to the  steps at the edge of the garden, the man looked back and up, and I swore  our eyes met. I jolted slightly, frowning again, a shiver moving down  my spine.

Later, after having both successfully drunk too much champagne and  avoided my stepmother and any more run-ins with old high school friends,  I said a quick goodbye to the hosts and made my getaway with Daisy in  her chauffeured car. We hung out at her house, laughing and talking for a  few hours until her husband arrived home and I'd sobered up. Daisy's  driver took me to my car, and I made the trip back to my apartment in  New York.

As I approached the door to my building, I got the strangest feeling I  was being watched. Shivering in the warm early-summer air, I paused and  turned around, looking up and down the tree-lined street but not  noticing anything unusual. After a moment, I dismissed it as nothing  more than the sun and champagne-drenched mind of someone who'd had a  long day. Shaking my head and laughing softly at myself, I opened the  door and went inside.





CHAPTER TWO




Brogan



The underground, high-stakes poker room was the height of lavish  opulence, decorated in shades of black, gold, and red, the materials  rich and sumptuous, ornate crystal chandeliers causing light to bounce  off the mirrors surrounding the upper portions of the walls. Quiet,  classical music drifted through speakers mounted somewhere in the  ceiling.

This moment had been a long time coming. I was going to savor it.

The man across from me pulled at his collar as he turned over the card  he'd just been dealt. I could smell the tang of his sweat even from the  other side of the table. Even if I hadn't been counting the cards, I'd  know he believed he had a good hand by the slight widening of his eyes,  the way he glanced around quickly to see if anyone else had noticed his  reaction. His knee bounced. He had a good hand, but he wasn't entirely  sure it was enough. And it wasn't. The king of diamonds I needed to make  four of a kind was at the top of the pile. I placed two cards on the  table and signaled the dealer, who dealt me two more. Ten of hearts,  king of diamonds. I kept my face expressionless, bringing my glass to my  lips. I tipped the bartender here exorbitantly well to make sure every  other drink I ordered was free of alcohol. This particular round was the  real deal. I took a sip, letting the brandy slide over my tongue. At  first fiery and sharp, smoothing into soft toasted marshmallow, vanilla  custard, a dash of pepper, and then transforming into a nutty oak flavor  as it slid down my throat.

Savor, enjoy.

The man across from me had long ago passed savor and had moved on to  slurp. He signaled the waiter for another. Of course, he was too foolish  to know that drinking and gambling didn't mix. Or too weak to resist  any and all vices offered to him and then to mix them haphazardly, just  as he was doing now. And he was about to go down. Hard. A boot to the  face. Metaphorically, of course. I resisted the wolfish grin that wanted  to spread across my face.

He suddenly looked up at me, meeting my eyes through my glasses,  narrowing his. "Have we met before?" he asked. I casually signaled the  dealer for a cigarette and leaned forward as he lit it, letting the  smoke waft in front of my face, tamping down my senses violently,  working not to become overwhelmed, not to grimace. I hated the smell of  cigarette smoke, detested it. The man across from me watched the smoke  rise, as if in a trance, immediately distracted by the swirling vapors.

"I don't believe so," I said, slurring my words slightly, making sure  there was no hint of an accent. I'd worked long and hard to do away with  it. He looked back at his cards, pulling at the collar of his tux  again.

The other player at the table-a tall, blond man-folded. I caught his eye  so briefly; it was only a bare flicker of the lids. An acknowledgment  only he would see, much less understand. A sign only two people who had  spent years on the streets together, surviving, cheating, looking out  for each other, becoming brothers in the truest sense of the word, would  recognize. Fionn. He turned and walked out of the room. He had done his  job-he'd driven up the stakes.                       
       
           



       

The security detail wandered by, his hands clasped behind his back,  eyeing our table. This establishment knew enough to watch me, knew  enough to suspect me of something they'd never prove. I wouldn't let  them. Counting cards was no effort on my part anyway. I did it without  even thinking, without even concentrating. So it was unlikely I'd ever  be suspected if I handled myself appropriately and discreetly. And I  rarely played now anyway-I certainly didn't need the funds, and my vices  were few, gambling not being one of them. I hadn't played in years.  That is, until he started playing here. And now it was only the two of  us sitting at this table in this high stakes room.

Savor, enjoy.

The man was intently focused on his cards, considering doing something  very, very stupid. Do it. Do something stupid. I knew very well he  needed to win-he needed to win desperately. His company was suffering,  and badly. I knew because I'd made it my business to know. But I didn't  think anyone else knew what dire straits he was in. Not even his family.  But I moved that thought aside quickly-I needed to concentrate.

"Let's make this interesting," I said, adding a slight slur and a hiccup  to the end of my statement. "What do you say we up the stakes here?"

The man's eyes flashed to mine. I could see the desperation in them as  clear as day. God, he was a bloody shite poker player. I'd almost feel  sorry for him if I wasn't savoring his impending downfall so much.

"What are you thinking exactly?" he asked, trying and failing to keep the note of anxious excitement out of his voice.

"I'm in for five million," I said, downing my drink.

The pulse jumped in his throat and he stared at his cards for a beat. Do  it, do it. "I'm sorry to say I don't have that kind of capital  available," he said.

I lowered my lids and shrugged. "Well, it's been fun." I signaled to the man at the door for my tux jacket.

"Wait, wait." Sweat had broken out on his forehead. "I own a company and  I'll sign it over to you if you win." He glanced at his hand again,  obviously trying to provide himself confidence in his own ridiculous  offer.

I laughed. "What would I want with some unknown company?" I signaled the man by the door again.

"It's worth ten times what you're putting in." He was lying. It was  barely worth five million at this point. But I didn't care how much it  was worth. I wasn't trying to make a profit-not a financial profit  anyway. A personal profit? Well, that was a different story. I narrowed  my eyes, holding my hand up to the man walking my way with my jacket. He  nodded his head and turned.

I looked down at my hand, allowing a miniscule frown to crease my brow. I  swayed to the left slightly, caught myself, and shrugged. "Oh, what the  hell! Right, André?" I forced out a loud, obnoxious laugh. The beefy  security detail with the earpiece walking slowly past nodded at me, his  expression cold and removed.