Page 40 of Carnal Wagers

Suddenly, the councilor jumped in his seat, slack-jawed, fear burrowed into his eye sockets. His knee thumped against the bottom of the table. His fork clanked against his plate. Water sloshed and spilled from his glass, and the heads of fellow diners turned their way. Two solo men sitting at the nearest tables hooked their dominant hands into their suit jackets, their bodies angling toward the threat. Cillian’s guards, I supposed.

Cillian remained rooted like a black cloud over the horizon, locked onto his target with a ruthless nonchalance that could tear down the strongest egos. He loomed and threatened without doing a single thing, stealing the air out of the room with sheer will and presence. A chill ran down my spine.

I envied that power. I could lure and tempt almost anyone to empty their pockets with a few practiced words, a timed laugh or smile, and a well-thrown party. I mastered that game—I’d had to—but the ability to say nothing at all and earn everything eluded me completely.

“Alizé, don’t do it,” Erel warned in my earpiece as he watched the scene through the surveillance cameras from his laptop in the parking lot.

He should know better by now. I had long ago outgrown following demands. That cage of self-reprimand I’d trapped myself in for my parents and siblings cracked wide open when I took charge of my life and stepped away from the family business.

I stood and moseyed through the dining hall. My simple bodycon cocktail dress clung to my every curve, highlighting my assets. He clocked me before I got within ten feet of him with barely a flicker of his eyes.

A pang of dejection hit me square in the chest, but I didn’t falter. Anything worth the effort took time. Business taught me that. I had to believe the same applied to seduction and affection.

With the inside of my bottom lip caught tight between my teeth, I wiggled my fingers at him, plastered on my best grin, and pranced to the bar.

The way his brows knitted was delicious. He reacted…to me. A surge of pride rushed through my system, zapping down my spine and tingling my extremities. In seconds, it was gone, and I craved another.

The bartender slid me my ordered cognac. I swirled the liquor and lost myself in its rich notes. It reminded me of a bonfire in the middle of a forest, paired with dried fruit and caramel. Add a little musk and citrus, and that scent could be bottled up in a bath wash. With a few quick taps on my phone, I jotted down the idea.

I finished just as a server delivered the very same cognac to Cillian, a little umbrella I’d requested sticking out of the glass, along with the little handwritten note I’d penned: “I told you I’d be seeing you.”

This early in the game, I expected indifference when he read the line of text. However, his head whipped my way. His midnight-blue eyes sizzled a hole straight through me, trying to melt me from the outside in, but I winked at him and lifted my glass in a toast, taking a page from his own book of insouciance. Two could play that game.

Alizé

You’re not drinking.

I watched eagerly as husband dearest, aka HD, picked up his phone and typed back, splitting his focus between me and whatever he was saying to contort the councilor’s paunchy face into a stricken grimace.

HD

You think you’re so clever.

I do have a master’s degree and run two businesses.

His lips twitched up, practically a curl, but flattened almost as quickly. He typed, deleted, then typed again. Those three little dots kept appearing and disappearing. My nails clicked one after the other along the marble bar top.

How did you get this number?

My mouth twisted. He had completely avoided my prompt for personal information.

A dull question not worth answering.

What do you think of the drink?

Not my type.

Lose the number.

If I sat in your lap, what would you do? Shoot me or kiss me?

Shoot.

Not very friendly of you.

Never am.

Pity, with a face like yours.