Razor leaned back, his posture relaxing a fraction. He didn’t push further, didn’t prod her for more. He just nodded. “That’s fair. But if you ever want to explore it, you don’t have to do it alone.”
Lottie looked at him then, really looked at him, and saw something she hadn’t noticed before. This wasn’t just about her. It was about him, too, what he wanted to give her, what he wanted her to find.
And for the first time in a long while, the idea of letting go didn’t seem so impossible.
* * *
Shannon sat off to the side alone, watching Master Merritt as he sat with a woman she recognized from the clinic. The little goth nurse was no match for her or what she’d do to keep her man.
Getting up, Shannon walked out of the dungeon towards the exit.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Two weeks later…
The grand ballroom was a spectacle of dazzling lights and opulence. Velvet-draped tables and glittering chandeliers set the stage for an evening of elegance and excitement. As Razor escorted Lottie into the ballroom, the crowd seemed to part for them, their commanding presence impossible to ignore. Behind them, the Montreal Chapter of the Royal Bastards followed, their leather cuts adding a sharp edge to the glitz of the event.
Razor’s hand rested lightly on Lottie’s lower back, his touch both protective and possessive. He leaned in close as they passed the roulette table, his voice low and teasing. “You look like you belong in the spotlight tonight, Lottie.”
Lottie shot him a sidelong glance, a smile tugging at her lips. “That’s where I always belong, Razor. Try to keep up.”
Diamond, the president of the Royal Harlots, greeted the group at the entrance, her sharp smile cutting through the hum of the crowd. After welcoming Teller and his men with a blend of authority and warmth, she directed them towards the games.
The evening unfolded with the pair moving through the room like a force of nature. At the blackjack table, Lottie’s sharp wit and bold choices drew attention. Razor, standing at her side, watched her play with an amused grin, occasionally chiming in with playful advice.
“Hit or stay?” Lottie asked, her eyes narrowing on the cards in front of her.
Razor leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Trust your gut. It’s never let you down before.”
She smirked, sliding another chip forward. “Then I’ll hit.”
When the dealer revealed her winning hand, Razor chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re dangerous, Lottie.”
“And you’re just figuring that out now?” she teased, taking her winnings with a triumphant smile.
Later, at the craps table, Razor took his turn with the dice. He rolled with effortless confidence, glancing at Lottie after each throw. When he handed her the dice for the next roll, their fingers brushed, the spark between them unmistakable.
“Think you can handle the pressure?” he asked, his tone light but his gaze intense.
Lottie met his eyes, a challenge in her expression. “Watch and learn.”
She rolled, and when the dice landed in their favor, the cheers from the table were deafening. Razor grinned, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. “Told you, you’re my lucky charm.”
As the night wore on, they stole a quiet moment away from the crowd, finding a secluded corner on the balcony. Razor handed her a glass of champagne, his usual swagger tempered by something softer.
“Having fun yet?” he asked, leaning against the railing, his dark eyes fixed on her.
Lottie took a sip of the champagne, her gaze steady. “I always have fun with you, Razor. You make sure of that.”
He smirked, his expression turning serious for a beat. “You keep me on my toes, you know that? Every move you make, I’m just trying to keep up.”
Lottie laughed softly, setting her glass down. “Good. I’d hate for you to get too comfortable.”
Their shared moment was interrupted by the distant roar of applause as another winner was announced, but neither seemed in a hurry to return. In the glow of The Royal Harlots’ Casino Night, surrounded by glitter and chaos, Lottie and Razor found a rhythm that was all their own…sharp, electric, and utterly unforgettable.
As Razor escorted Lottie through the crowd, he noticed Diamond having a heated discussion with an unknown male off in a small alcove. Her body language was tense, her arms crossed tightly, and her gaze sharp. Razor’s instincts flared, but he kept his pace steady, not wanting to draw attention to what he’d seen.
Glancing around, Razor caught the eye of Sayer, one of his brothers, standing casually near the bar. With a quick nod and a subtle gesture, he signaled for Sayer to keep an eye on the Harlots’ president. Sayer’s expression didn’t shift, but the slight tilt of his head was acknowledgment enough.
