Page 252 of A Vicious Love

“Yes.”

“Then I’m coming.”

My stomach turned over softly.

He said things now. As if three years of absence could be answered by one dark look and a sentence that made my heart do foolish little things in my chest.

“You’ll be annoyed,” I whispered. “And bored.”

“I am always annoyed, people are regularly incompetent.”

I tried very hard to keep my mouth steady. “Then why come?”

His gaze dipped to my lips for one dangerous second.

“Because you’ll be there.”

I forgot how to answer.

Jamison smiled as if he knew exactly what he had done, then lifted his glass and drank.

Smug bastard.

The east salon was one of the older rooms in the main house, tucked behind the library through double doors painted a deep green that my grandmother had chosen and my mother had spent twenty years trying to replace.

A long card table had been set near the fireplace, green felt brushed smooth, chips arranged in neat ivory stacks, crystal tumblers ready beside a silver decanter.

Bellemere cards had rituals.

My father took the head seat. Julian sat on his right, Adrian opposite him, my cousins and brothers-in-law scattered around the table. My mother preferred bridge and declined poker with an expression that suggested poker was beneath her attention. Sabine sat near the window with Henri, one hand resting over her stomach while Mila slept across a nearby lounge with Honey tucked under her chin.

Henri checked the steps to her twice before fussing over Sabine.

Jamison paused in the doorway.

Every man at the table shifted.

He looked around the salon, then at me.

“This is very serious for a family that argues over sandwich filling.”

I smiled. “Poker matters.”

“Do you play?”

“Yes.”

Adrian coughed into his drink. Julian looked down at the chips, and, Henri’s mouth twitched. Jamison noticed everyone immediately.

His head turned slowly back to me. “Do you play well?”

I lifted my chin. “I play socially.”

I moved toward my usual seat near Sabine, but Jamison’s hand settled at my lower back and redirected me. As if he had already decided where I belonged and expected the room to update itself around that decision.

“Here,” he said.

He pulled out the chair beside him