Page 52 of Read My Lips

“Stitched you up rather nicely? Yes. Pick them up Ben. Your cards.”

Why had I thought I stood a chance? He basically did this for a living with things more complicated than a game.

Brow furrowed with concentration he skimmed through his hand, selecting another pair to set down. “Two aces.”

My teeth grated together, and I gestured in his eyeline. “Again?”

“I like aces.” His smile twitched, bubbling with amusement. “Feel free to challenge any time.”

The smug git got rid of another four before he switched to another number. And stopped trying to be subtle.

“Three eights.”

“You got five cards there.”

“Are you calling me a cheat, or making conversation?” Laughter jumped and sparked in his eyes, contagious like a virus. I caught his wrist to stop him setting the cards on the pile, and his teeth buried into the fullness of his lower lip.

“Manhandling me now?”

“That is definitely five. Turn them over. Bullshit.”

“Such a stickler.” The cards tumbled down, and he scooped the pile up. Somehow, his stack stayed taller than mine.

When I set down four cards instead of three, he didn’t call me out. When I set down six, he pressed his lips in on themselves, and took a sip of wine. He stacked the rest of his hand together in a neat pile and slapped them on top of mine.

“One king.”

My pulse roared in my ears. He was throwing the game. Why was he throwing the game?

“Think you’ve got confused about how to win Simon.”

I had three sevens left. Next turn, I’d win anyway. But there was no way I couldn’t, now.

“I know exactly what I’m doing. Call me out, Ben.”

Ventriloquist in action, he was. As if I didn’t know it. His eyes locked onto my mouth in patient expectation.

“Bullshit.”

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned across to add all the cards in the deck to his stack. “Would you look at that? You appear to have won.”

What did he want to tell me so badly he needed an excuse?

“Funny that.”

“Something true...” Simon leaned in, elbow braced on his knee, and I forgot how breathing happened. “Sev… I can guess what she told you. But she’s wrong. About how things are with me and Richard.”

“Ok.”

Simon focused on my mouth, waiting for more words from me. But they weren’t going to come. I’d hit my head. I had to have done. I was in a coma having fever dreams.

He sighed.

“Look, Richard is not who I want. At all. Never has been, but I’m prone to idiotic decisions when people rile me up.”

Oh my god.

“Does he rile you up?” Masochism. My speciality.