Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance(188)

“Category: religion. One point. Question: what painter’s intricate tableaus have been said to have shaped modern thought about the geography and tortures of Hell?”

The bell rang on the other table and Whitney bolted upright, calling out, “Francis Bacon!”

“NO!"

I shot out of my chair so fast that it tipped over behind me. The announcer glanced at me, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Francis Bacon is, I'm sorry, incorrect... The question goes to the challenger to my right. Do you have a counter-answer?”

"The answer is… Hieronymus Bosch,” I called out in a cold, confident voice.

“Yes!” the announcer boomed into the microphone. “Two points for the Misters Jack and their alluring companion!”

I felt myself panting as I knuckled the tablecloth, glaring at Whitney from across the room until she crumpled back into her seat. I stood for a moment more before lowering myself back into my chair. Lyle leaned across the table toward me and turned his head conspiratorially to whisper in my ear.

“Oh ho ho, that must've been embarrassing for her. Are you two friends?”

“We know each other,” I said in a controlled growl.

“That sounds like it must be quite a story,” he continued.

“There's nothing to tell," I said with a wave of my fingertips. “She's a real estate agent. My boy — er, a friend bought a condo from her.”

Lyle pushed himself back, raising his eyebrows at the same time. His eyes sparkled in the low light.

“A real estate agent? That's an interesting way of putting it.”

I shook my head slightly. What was so interesting about being a real estate agent? Lyle plucked the crystal luminary off the table top and held it up next to his face so that the light glittered across his strong, chiseled features. The sight was enchanting, I had to admit, but I still didn't get it.

Out of habit I racked my brain for clues as though he was playing some kind of game of charades. Luminary? Lantern? Glow? Cylinder? Candle? Avery hotel and spa ostentatious light show?

Avery hotel… Avery… Whitney Fucking Avery.

Oh my God.

“I guess I don't really know anything about her at all, come to think of it," I said bitterly, unable to keep the brittle tone from my voice.

Lyle glanced away toward the announcer as though the conversation had been completed. I continued to stew over the details.

“Lyle, pay attention,” Owen snapped. “Final question and we are still down by one.”

I pushed Whitney out of my mind and focused on the announcer. If we were down by one that meant that she was ahead by one, and there was no way I was letting that bitch take anything else from me today.

The announcer cleared his throat.

“The final question is worth three points. Category: rare medical conditions. Question: what renal disease is characterized by a purple -"

My hand shot out so fast it was like a cobra strike, mashing the bell hard with my palm.

Owen gave a low whistle. I spun in my chair to face him.

“Do you know it?”

“What? Don't you know it?” he said with a shocked expression.

I whirled to face Lyle.

“You know it. I know you do. Answer the question,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

Lyle's mouth opened slightly and he looked at me, aghast.

“Brienne, he didn't even finish asking the question…”

"You. Know. It,” I said again in a growl.

“Three seconds, team,” the announcer called out.

Lyle splayed his fingers on the table top and rose slowly, working his jaw with his brow knitted beautifully together. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind.

“The answer is,” he called out clearly with just a hint of waver in his voice, “porphyria."

"Yes!" The announcer called. “Porphyria is the correct answer! And we have our winning team - the Misters Jack, in their inaugural win!”

"Well, he didn't have to point that part out,” Owen grumbled as he stood, raising a hand to wave to the applauding crowd.

I rose as well, breathing in the sound of the applause and the simultaneous sound of Whitney and Carl's defeat like it was a sweet summer breeze that filled my lungs with joy.

Lyle leaned toward me as the cheering continued to fill the room.

“That was a hell of a risk you took there,” he growled, but I could tell he was thrilled by the way his nostrils flared and the avid gleam in his eye.

“I just wanted to make sure we got there first,” I said regally, even though my heart was pounding in my ears. I knew it could have all gone wrong, and the impact of what I had just risked was starting to sink in. I could have dismantled my entire night's effort right there. But I didn't.

“Outstanding!" Owen crowed. “That was a really ballsy move!”