It was almost midnight at Blunt’s, and Julia was feeling hellish. She had taken a line of coke half an hour earlier to lift the boredom, but all it had done was to make her brain buzz within the confines of its own ennui, like a trapped and angry wasp.
‘I see your boyfriend’s in again,’ murmured Darius Egan.
Julia followed the line of his glance and saw Anthony at one of the tables. ‘I wish you’d stop calling him that. It’s childish.’
‘Don’t get so defensive. Anyone would think he’s important to you. He’s certainly becoming that way to us.’
Darius took a sip of what looked to all intents like a glass of champagne, but was in fact fizzy water tinted with a drop of Angostura bitters – a tip he had picked up from his father. Seeing the casino boss with a glass of bubbly made the punters feel convivial, like guests at a party.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Just that he’s in every night, dropping a ton of the stuff. He used to have the odd win here and there, big enough to keep him going, but he’s been losing heavily recently. I’m afraid he doesn’t do himself any favours. Doesn’t know when to stop.’ Darius scanned the room. ‘Now, where’s that husband of yours? I have a little business to discuss with him.’
As Darius went off in search of Piers, Julia crossed the room to the roulette table where Anthony was playing. In three spins of the wheel she saw him lose four hundred, then another two, then claw back eighty.
‘Bad luck,’ she murmured.
Anthony gave her a glance and shrugged. She read indifference – both to her and to the situation.
‘Darius says you’re pretty much a regular here.’ She watched as Anthony pushed forward two blue chips onto number five. ‘Says you lose a lot.’
‘And what’s that to you?’
‘Anthony, seriously – I don’t like to see you being taken for a mug. You’re a novice at all this. And I don’t believe you can afford it.’
Anthony said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the spin of the wheel and the skipping clatter of the ball. The wheel slowed and the ball dropped into number five. Anthony scooped in his winning pile of chips and turned to Julia. ‘I suppose when it comes to taking me for a mug you’re the leading expert in the field, I’ll give you that. But I’m not the person I once was, Julia. You have no idea what I can and can’t afford.’
Gabrielle had been watching them from the other side of the room. She knew from gossip that Julia and Anthony had once been an item, and she could tell from Julia’s subtle body language that Julia would like to rekindle that. Given the state of her marriage to Piers – which Gabrielle gave a year at best – it was hardly surprising that Julia was looking for a new flame. Or an old one. But even though she couldn’t hear the words exchanged, it was obvious to Gabrielle that Anthony wasn’t interested.
She was curious about Anthony, and somewhat fascinated by him – a fascination darkly connected to the kiss she had witnessed that night in Middle Temple. She had thought often about this, confused by her conflicting emotions. Far from being revolted, she had found it faintly arousing, and realised she wouldn’t mind kissing Anthony herself. How weird did that make her? To desire someone her own father found attractive? She didn’t care. Normal rules didn’t apply to Leo, so maybe they didn’t apply to her. There was only one way to find out. She crossed the room to where Anthony was standing looking indecisive, touched his arm lightly, and said, ‘Hello. I don’t think we’ve met.’
Anthony glanced round in surprise. He had been contemplating what to do with his winnings. Common sense dictated he should cash in his chips, have one last drink, and go home. But the relief at having at last covered his mounting losses and put himself back in the black had been swiftly followed by the now-familiar adrenalin rush, the sense that he could ride his big win like a surfer, go back to the tables and win even more. Even though he knew the pattern which was developing was not a good one, coming to the casino three nights in one week, making heavy losses which simply drove him to bet more, he couldn’t resist the urge to have one more spin of the wheel. And here was this beautiful girl looking into his eyes.
‘My name’s Gabrielle.’
‘I know.’ He smiled. ‘I asked someone. I’m Anthony Cross.’
‘I know.’ She smiled. ‘I asked someone.’
Anthony knew she was waiting for him to offer to buy her a drink. Much as he wanted to spend the next couple of hours sitting over drinks getting to know this delicious girl, he was itching to get to the poker tables and carry on gambling, though he knew he would probably end up losing it all, and leaving with less than he had come in with.