Then it hit me. GG wanted to play with me. If I didn’t get to read the paper tonight, she’d offer it up tomorrow before the board meeting, or next time we played. At some point, I’d read the note. I could have just as much fun in the waiting.
My brain didn’t return immediately. I matched GG’s call for all in when I held an unsuited Ace and nine, only to find out that she had been calling on an even bigger bluff. Gradually, I chipped away at her stack until we were almost even.
“Tired, princess?” she mocked my yawn.
Damn it—two am. There was no way of going home, grabbing a couple of hours sleep and finishing off the work I needed to do before the board meeting. Might as well stay up all night and leave work early.
“Okay, old man, since it’s a little past your bedtime, how about we make it interesting?” GG teased as the next cards were dealt. “I’ll call all in before even looking at my cards and before the cards have even been dealt in the middle.”
“Why would I match you?”
“Why the hell not?”
It was complete and utter madness.
The amount of money on the table could buy more than a decent car. We might as well flip a coin.
At least I’d have a 50-50 chance of winning and walking away a hero. Even if I lost, this hand would go down as legendary.
Make the call.
“There’s gotta be something in it even if I lose.”
Sharing a spa bath or pillow, cancelling her contract, even letting me brush her hair. I had a hundred ideas, most of which had me doing something with part of her body and nothing to do with the game at hand. At least cancelling her contract would remove any conflict of interest or fraternization with employee crap that could give Mason reason to throw shade.
“You want something?”
“If you need to close this down to get home to bed for unneeded beauty sleep, then I want something if I lose.”
“Hmmm.” GG pretended to think, licking her lips before getting up from the table. Letting her fingers slide until she made her way around to my chair. She couldn’t see my cards even when standing behind me. Her fingertips burned an imprint into my shoulders, and I stopped breathing.
One fucking touch and I stopped breathing.
GG leaned over, lips almost to my ear, filling the space with citrus. Not just from her glass, but her fragrance. Refreshing, invigorating. In a room filled with drab and egos, she was alive and real.
“How about if you lose, I’ll make you any sort of sandwich you want.”
Her words, full of innuendo, delivered with a soft husky voice only I could hear.
With none of my so-called friends about to tackle me with common sense, I considered my options while GG reclaimed her seat.
Option one, I could win. Grab the victory, respect, cash, and the piece of paper.
Behind door number two was respect for at least making the call, and a sandwich personally made by GG. My assumptions were we wouldn’t be using the penthouse kitchen and it would be delivered in person.
It wasn’t only my heart that stopped beating and or my lungs that had stopped breathing. The room had fallen silent.
Waiting.
They’d seen me lose a fortune because of the bottle.
Could I be crazy enough to lose my shit over a woman?
My answer was in pushing my chips into the middle of the table. Not the careful placing of stacks to make it easy for the dealer. No, I wanted to be the arrogant asshole, make a statement.
“All in.”
Stupid, crazy bastard—what the hell did you just do?
GG
Tonight had been about making a decision.
Either sleep with Scott Alexander and get him out of my system or forget him. Move on with my life and treat him as an annoyance. Just another man with great body, chemistry pleading to ignite with mine and intelligence that made me want to make him Sunday breakfast—in bed.
This bloody ritual of playing cards and pretending I didn’t see him as a man. Having to pretend he’d never be more than a card playing victim. Pretending he didn’t know me as Carlynn. All the pretense, half-truths and lies had become exhausting.
When I left Melbourne, it had been with promises to myself. Never fall in love with a gambler. Never fall in love with a man who could hurt me. Never fall in love—
Period.
Love weakened me. It took from my strength and gave to the man in my bed.
I didn’t want to repeat mistakes that had already cost me a town, my family and my name.
Not even for Scott.
Not even when I knew, instinctively, that Scott’s self-destruction operated internally. He went above and beyond to make sure his actions didn’t hurt others.
Not even when Scott hadn’t given me any reason to distrust him. He’d kept my secret, from Jarryd and Mason. Even though I couldn’t tell him why it was so important, he’d held his tongue.
Not even though I barely heard his calls, only that his gorgeous, full lips moved, and sound came out. I wanted the fingers that held his cards to wrap around my wrists. Preferably high over my head so my brain couldn’t override my body.
All the promises I’d made to find a nice man who’d never gamble and wanted a house with white picket fence disappeared every single time I thought about Scott-bloody-Alexander.
The salt and pepper hair had never been more enticing, and the muscles just ached to be released from his designer shirts and pants.
Did he even realize my game play wasn’t about winning, but about eliminating all other players so it would come down to the two of us? Any time someone took a pile of chips from Scott, I became a ruthless bitch. Winning them back and then losing them back to Scott.
Did he even notice?
I wanted it to be the two of us at the end of the night.
Now, I’d set out the challenge. A blind call.
“All in,” his voice reverberated around the room. What if he lost?
What have you got to lose? Not even my inner voice of reason was on my side.
“GG? You going all in or not?”
“We need to talk.”
“Make the call.”
“We need to talk,” I pressed. It was time he at least got out of my way with Softli even if he refused to get out of my head.
Sleep with him or forget him.
“This was your idea. Make the call, then we’ll talk.”
“Winner take all?”
“Winner takes the piece of paper—the chips don’t really matter, now do they?”
Either way, I can still win.
“All in.”
The game was over in seconds.
Scott stood to the ovation of the room. His legendary status now immortalized amongst the Sydney playing elite. More than a boring CFO living in the shadow of a charismatic CEO and the sexy AF CIO.
“I think the official definition of my hand is jack shit,” I had the grace to laugh as Scott offered me his hand. Still a professional handshake.
“I got lucky—I’d never have called with a King high.”
“It still beat my ten. I don’t think I pulled a worse hand all night.”
“Well, thank you for playing it at the right time.”
“Are you going to read the note?” Jason reminded the room of our side-bet. With the chips now cleared away, the white slip of paper stood out against the green felt.
“Should I?” Scott picked it up, fingering the folded slip. I shrugged, outwardly uncaring.
“You earned the right to look.”
“Grated parmesan cheese in the butter,” Scott read and looked up, eyebrows crunched. “What the?”
“I told you, my recipe for the perfect toasted cheese sandwich. When you butter the outside of the bread, add grated parmesan cheese.”
“I’ve never tried it like that!”
By this time, Larissa was ushering us out of the room and Scott held my coat out, helping each arm through the sleeves. When did he start being
such a gentleman? Too tired to remember, only that I never let anyone else touch my things. Only Scott. Leaning back to throw him a smile, I said softly, “Perhaps if you ask me nicely, I’ll make you one for breakfast.”
“You said you don’t date.”
“I said I didn’t want to date Atticus.”
“You wanted to talk, then talk.”
Damn him, I’d gone outside my comfort zone and tried to flirt with the man, only he had to spoil everything and remind me of business. Softli. His job and my future.
“You need to let me start my real job.”
That killed the mood, but he’d killed it first.
“When I say you can.”
“Don’t make me go to Mason,” I snapped, regretting the words immediately. His eyes darkened and any warmth disintegrated. Sexy Scott turned into the corporate CFO turning everything into a cost-benefit decision. I hadn’t seen this Scott before. Shoulders rigid, no hint of tiredness or familiarity. We’d become strangers. Enemies?
“A threat?”
Yes, but I hadn’t meant it to come out as brash.
“No, but what are you afraid of?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Let me do my job.” I softened my tone to a plea, allowing him to take control. Needing him to stop seeing me as a threat.
I wasn’t.
He could blow my cover and threaten my life.
He could give Mason an ultimatum that could threaten my career.
He could take my body and heart and crush both before I had time to put up defenses or breathe.
I was no threat to him.
“Look, this weekend I’m going to a game in Katoomba. Come with me—no one else will know us but if we end up one-on-one, then let’s have a side bet.”
I’d had no intention of telling anyone about this weekend. Inviting Scott to come with me was a moment of insanity, but it might also give us a chance. Outside of the Sydney bubble, away from his company and Jarryd, we might find answers to the question that had been driving my insomnia.
Could I be crazy enough to fall in love with a gambler, again?
“What sort of game is at Katoomba?”
Scott remained aloof, but I wanted to see a hint of twinkle. At least he’d leaned into me. Our conversation wasn’t for other ears, but we had no need for personal space.
“If I win then you let me start the contract on Monday.”
“If you lose?”
“You get one night with me.”
Seriously? Firstly, I’d invited him to Katoomba, now to bed? Shit. I needed sleep. Maybe a one-night hookup from some dating app. Flush the cobwebs from between my legs.
“Any rules?”
He hadn’t said, no!
Instead, he now had the same look of self-congratulatory arrogance he usually reserved for pocketing a tableful of chips.
“I can’t imagine you doing anything that will exceed my boundaries,” I flirted, hoping he’d try.
“Lady, you’ve got no idea.”
“Then do we have a deal?”
One—two—three—four—
Perhaps, I’d read him wrong?
“Text me the details.”
Scott
What the—
I’d just survived a wicked call, and now looked like spending the weekend with GG. A weekend in the mountains. I could climb, play cards or see whether GG’s flirting had been bluff.
Her call.
In all the table banter about next week’s card game and weekend plans, she hadn’t said a thing about going away.
Not until we were about to leave.
Her call and I’d been too lust-struck and tired to invoke brain and knock her back.
Too wired for sleep, I did a lap of the inner city, enjoying owning the streets. Red lights were for pussies and I gave into the indulgent power of my Mustang. There was no use going home for a couple of hours. By four am, my car was alone in the executive basement carpark and only the security guard acknowledged my presence—and the spare coffee. It was from some drive-through place two blocks away. Better than nothing and I always got two cups. Either for someone more deserving, or I’d put it down to karma deciding I needed the extra boost.
Unpackaging and unfolding the last of my spare shirts from what used to be my emergency stash, I found the small steam iron in the first aid room. While the iron heated up, I enjoyed the powerful jets of Mason’s executive bathroom.
What sort of place would we be staying at in Katoomba? Would the bathroom be built for two?
Would we even be sharing a room?
I rubbed one out in her honor, knowing a weekend with GG could either leave me with ice-cold blue balls, or certifiably back in the game of life.
By five am, I was tearing through my inbox like a demon. Talk about the touch it once principle, I made a decision, delegated or sent it back for more information. Nothing was going to stand between me, GG and the weekend. And if it fell apart, I’d head down to Melbourne for the football, or up to the Gold Coast.
“Boss, the bigger boss wants to see you,” Layla buzzed. I hadn’t even noticed the time or heard her arrive.
“What does he want?” Shit, where did the hours go?
“Why don’t you ask him yourself? What am I, your secretary?” she laughed before heading back to her desk.
“We both know who’s the boss, and it isn’t me.”
I chanced finishing off one more email before Layla decided to drag me by the balls to see Mason. The secret to my success was my team and everyone knew Layla was the captain and I served at her pleasure. Okay, that was a slight exaggeration, but I only looked as good as she let me.
Mason’s office was in the far corner on the same floor. Double the size of mine, with floor to ceiling glass opening up to Harbour views. Damn, Sydney was the most beautiful city in the world.
Slowing my pace, I re-read the message sent minutes after I’d left her. My shower would have been a lot longer if my phone hadn’t run out of charge.
GG: Everything to play for and nothing to lose
I could take the eight words and twist them until nothing made sense. Was she talking cards? Her contract? Us?
Was there even an us or was the invite a distraction, a ploy to stop me from telling the world—who didn’t care—GG also went by Carlynn. Hell, I didn’t even know whether to call her Carlynn or GG during the weekend?
Sure, we were playing for her contract start date, but I’d rather think about all the ways we could play out our frustrations in the bedroom.
Whatever, I didn’t have time to pander to whatever bullshit Mason wanted to throw at me this morning. I still had a hundred things to do just for the chance of leaving early on Friday.
“Hey, Chloe!” If Layla kept me under control, Chloe was a genius in managing Mason. I’d never known her to be anything other than gracious and positive, her energy giving hope to us mere mortals who lived and breathed by markets, financials and Mason’s moods.
“Good luck in there! He’s waiting for you.” I didn’t heed Chloe’s sympathetic and warning smile. Opening the door, nothing Mason could say or do could ruin my day, week or even month.
Except.
“Glad you could make it,” Mason snapped but he wasn’t alone.
“Sign the fucking contract. Hand over the documents and let this woman do what I want to pay her for or it will be your ass sitting on the curb and I’ll bring in auditors to find out what you’ve been wanting to hide.”
“Boss, it’s only a matter of timing.”
People didn’t realize the life lessons poker could teach. How to keep even breathing and hold a straight face under pressure. Genuine smile and soft eyes to the world while internally plotting how to incinerate every motherfucker within a hundred mile radius.
I should have known better.
I should have guessed.
No. I couldn’t.
The flirting—that was all on her. The invitation for the weekend—I hadn’t hinted at
more than accepting a fucking sandwich.
Still, I couldn’t believe GG had set me up like this. The bitch had proven to be the ultimate game player.
“My guys want a little more time to make sure what we hand over is easy for her to understand and use.” Code for making sure our own house was in order and we knew what recommendations to lead her towards. Stronger governance around the sales teams’ ability to make unreasonable promises to customers would be a start. Being able to cost in the risk of non-payment would be a good second step. Both recommendations needed to come from the consultant, and that took careful nuancing, and time.
“Bullshit.” Mason had dropped his chill tech geek persona, adopting the corporate CEO mask we both knew he hated. “I’m drowning here in a debt book that’s out of control and right now I’m thinking that the only reason you’re blocking me is because the problem is in your division.”
“It’s not—Darius agrees,” I protested, pretending the lying bitch didn’t exist. That she wasn’t sitting in a tight red suit with a skirt showing off sheer stockinged legs, delicately crossed at the ankles. Hours ago, that same body had been clad in black leather, looking like every schoolboy’s fantasy.
Now? Corporate-fucking-bitch.
“Fantastic!” Mason jeered, wiping his desk of papers in unleashed frustration and sarcasm. Misplaced, but he wasn’t about to listen to reason. “The one time my executives agree is when they won’t let me get the answers. I’m sick of excuses and delays.”
“If you can wait until after the board meeting—” I started before Mason snapped.
“No. Right now, I’ve pulled your paper and Darius’. Carlynn will be fronting the board with her proposal. Just so we’re clear, if you aren’t completely on board and cooperating, then you needn’t turn up for the board meeting.”
“I’m the CFO.”
“At my discretion.”
Mason quipped too easily for it to be a bluff.
Seriously? He’d be prepared for me to walk out just because I didn’t want to roll out the red carpet for some consultant? The markets would have a field day. The stock would plummet and the less I explained, the worse it would be—for Softli.
Reckless Gamble: a billionaire high stakes suspense romance (City Sinners Book 4) Page 9
