“Emer—”
“Shh…” she hums, a sly, satisfied smirk on her stupidly gorgeous face. Her gaze remains fixed on the stage as she slows her ministrations, once again defusing the impending bomb. She could be a fucking explosives expert!
“I am going inside to fetch another champagne,” Vivienne whispers in my direction. “Would you like another glass?” She looks over at me. “Emery? Another…juice?”
“I’m fine,” Emery says in a hushed tone, her smile so damn innocent as if she doesn’t have complete and utter control of my prick. “But maybe Quin would like one. I have a feeling he’srather parched right now.” She tilts her head, eyes large and infuriating. “Hmm?”
“I’m fine.” I grunt through the discomfort. “Thank you.” I wait several seconds for Vivienne to be out of sight before I shift my body toward Emery and growl. “Enough, darling. You’ve proven your point.”
She has the audacity to smile at me. “My point? And whatismy point?” Her grip tightens around me, her tone lower than before. “Tell me, Doctor. What point am I trying to prove?”
“Emery…”
She blinks. “Yes? Go on.” I remain tight-lipped, cursing her beauty, her brain, and her brawn. She sighs, clicking her tongue. “Do you need help, Doctor? Is the question too difficult to process in your current,” she glances down at the slight bulge beneath the plush blanket, “state?”
“It’s been nearly an hour of this,” I grumble, unwilling to drop the white flag just yet. This was supposed to be her torture. Not mine.
“And why is this happening, huh?” She cocks her head, glancing over my shoulder into the main house. “Is it because you did something wrong? Is it because, maybe, you brought that woman here to, I don’t know…” She feigns deep thought. “To make me jealous?”
I smirk at her. Perhaps I haven’t lost after all. “And it worked.” I flash her a grin. “Clearly.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’tgetjealous.”
I blink, gaze flitting to her python-like grip. “I beg to differ, darling. You’re one more stroke away from giving me severe carpet burn.” Her tiny glower forces me to laugh. “How’s your wrist, Emery? Sore yet?”
Her mouth gapes open, irritated. “I…” With one swift motion she yanks her hand away in a huff. I quickly zip up my trousers. “Bastard.”
Despite the lingering discomfort under my slacks, I release a soft chuckle. “I find you rather charming when you’re angry, darling.” Reaching over, I graze my knuckles across her frosty cheek. “Either the cold is causing you to blush or you’re fuming inside.”
She smacks my hand away. “Don’t.”
I let out a hushed laugh. “I should be the one who’s angry right now, darling. But, since I’m a gentleman, I will extend you averyhumble and sincere apology.” She rolls her eyes. “Emery…” She sighs, slowly turning her head toward me, and I grin. “I am so very sorry for putting you in such an uncomfortable situation, and I promise never to do it again. Will you ever forgive me?”
She glares at me. “You need to work on your apology tone. It almost sounds patronizing.”
I grab my chest, feigning offense. “I resent that whole-heartedly.”
Before Emery can counter, Vivienne appears over my shoulder just as act one comes to an end. “Quinton…” Her eyes widen with a familiar fear. “You must come now. Your brother…” She glances toward the billiards room. “He needs your help.”
My jaw tightens as I clench my fist. “Again?”
Emery’s brows furrow. “What’s going on?”
Without offering an explanation, I sigh and stand up, extending Emery my hand. “You’ll see soon enough. Let’s go.”
Vivienne leads us toward the billiards room while I inwardly curse my idiot brother. Vivienne opens the door and I scan the room, ignoring the half dozen dignitaries until I find my inebriated sibling. Will’s gait sways as he swirls his martini glass, his voice louder than socially appropriate for such an event.
“Double or nothing!” Will slurs, getting in the face of Claude, France’s wealthiest heir. And a degenerate gambler. Birds of a feather, as they say. “Come on, Claude.Ou as-tu peur?”
Claude snorts. “Scared? Of you?” He cranes his neck to his entourage and laughs. “Free money is my favorite. Fine. Double or nothing.”
“Fuck,” I grumble under my breath before breaking away from Emery. I charge toward Will and grab his forearm. “How much are you down? Huh?” I glance at Claude. “He’s done. No more.”
Will shakes my grip off, irritated. “Bugger off, mate.”
“But he’s already offered,” Claude says, a slithering smile on his face. “And I have accepted. There are witnesses. We must play. It’s the code.”
“He can barelystand,” I fume, loathing the bastard. “I believethe codehas rules regarding one’s state of mind.”
