Page 135 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

We are the focus of everyone’s attention.

What the hell is happening here?

Caleb spreads his fingers against my back and leans in closer, speaking so quietly that no one can overhear him. “Don’t shrink.”

Immediately I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin.

Lucian moves to my other side, and together we enter the room.

Lorenzo approaches from near the bar, and I exhale when I see the familiar face.

He’s different tonight, though, in his tailored tuxedo. He’s less of a host and more of an owner. His eyes are focused, missing nothing. A shudder goes through me. Right now, I have no trouble seeing him as a mafioso.

As we exchange pleasantries, another man joins us.

I stiffen, immediately recognizing Malcolm Voss.

He controls data-brokerage companies, private-credit funds, political consultancies, and enough other interests that his name regularly appears near powerful people without anyone ever being entirely certain what he does for them.

He is lean, elegant, perhaps fifty, with iron-gray hair and a tuxedo so simple it probably cost more than my first car. Dark-red stones gleam at his cuffs.

His gaze moves over me, taking in my dress, my rings, and my position between Lucian and Caleb.

“Hawthorne. Pierce.” Voss shakes hands with each of them in turn, the greetings brief and practiced.

“Malcolm,” Lorenzo says, “you haven’t met Sophie Hawthorne-Pierce.”

“Ah.” Voss’s attention sharpens slightly. “Mrs. Hawthorne-Pierce.”

He offers his hand, and I reluctantly accept.

He’s warm, and his smile invites trust. And I’m convinced that makes him even more dangerous.

Lorenzo gestures toward the baccarat table. “Shall we?”

The men begin taking their seats as if everyone but me already knows exactly where he belongs.

Lucian pulls out the chair in the center. “Sophie.”

I stare at it. “I thought I was observing.”

“You are participating.”

“In what?”

“Our side,” Caleb says.

What?

My heart thunders so hard that I’m sure everyone has to hear it. I don’t gamble, and I don’t want to be anywhere near whatever the hell is going on here.

He takes the chair to my right while Lucian settles on my left.

Voss sits directly across from us.

A woman enters, carrying a locked black case, and places it beside Lorenzo. When she opens it, I see stacks of rectangular gaming plaques rather than ordinary chips.

One hundred thousand.