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“Oh,” Molly said. “They both did.”

“What?” Eli nearly shouted, outrage drowned by Justine’s laughter.

“I told you,” Justine said, holding out an open hand to him.

“You cheated, clearly.”

“Actually having read the book does not count as cheating.”

Eli chucked the dice in Justine’s direction, neither of which landed in her waiting palm.

In what felt like no time at all, Aster reluctantly sold off the last of his properties and admitted defeat, Eli kept negotiating his way out of paying rent, Alannah lost all her money in one horrifically unlucky turn, Justine amassed a plastic hotel empire, and Bentley looked like the only person with any shot at beating her. Molly, for her part, had just enough wine blurring her out at the edges that she found the entire experience utterly delightful. Spine-tinglingly silly and stupid and fun.

If she moved her head too quickly, the world took about a blink to catch up with her. Which was hilarious.

“Your move, Graham,” came Justine’s voice.

Admittedly, the dice had been sitting in front of Molly for a minute or two now, but she hadn’t realized she was supposed to go. Aster had begun dancing his fingers up and down the side of her thigh, and she’d more or less forgotten who she was and what she was doing, drifting on the delightful warmth left in his wake.

She cupped the dice in her hands and began counting.

There wasn’t a single number she could roll that would grant her safe passage through the gauntlet of properties owned by Justine and Bentley.

Honestly, between Aster’s distracting hands and the alcohol buzzing in her veins, Molly didn’t hate the idea of the game ending.

But she didn’t want to lose.

“Molllllllllly?” Eli asked in a slurry singsong.

“I’m thinking.”

Beneath the table, Aster’s fingertips danced up her thigh. “There she is,” he breathed.

She pointed across the table to Bentley. “You.”

“Me.”

“I have a proposal.”

Justine scoffed, but smiled. “Here we go.”

“Why don’t you ever have a proposal for me?” Eli asked.

“Or me?” from Justine.

“Or me?” Alannah asked through a giggle, despite having already been bankrupted.

“Well,” Molly began, clearing her throat. She sat straighter. She was fifty percent business, fifty percent cabernet. “I can’t speak to any games past that I don’t remember. But you two are already in cahoots.” She gestured between Justine and Eli. “He hasn’t paid you rent the last three times he landed on one of your properties. And you”—she pointed to Alannah—“are drunk.”

Alannah mock gasped, hand to heart, as if she’d never before heard such a ridiculous accusation.

“He’s a good negotiator,” Justine conceded with a shrug.

“I can’t compete with that. You’d be equally as screwed if Alannah or Roy were still in the game.”

“Here, here,” from Roy, raising his glass. Alannah nuzzled into his neck with a laugh.

“Ruthless,” Aster whispered in her ear. His smile was evident even though Molly couldn’t see it. Sparks skittered across her skin.