Moving from nineteenth to eighth in the rankings was an exemplary accomplishment. The world might call what I do play—as in playing poker—but it wasn’t. It was work that required skill on many levels. Not only had I advanced in the rankings, I’d taken my winnings from $40,000, the amount Andros had given me to begin play minus my first night’s loss, to $510,000, multiplying his investment by more than ten.
I wasn’t only proud of my accomplishments on the poker table; I had information to share with Andros about Marion Elliott. There was nothing earth-shattering or surprising. Marion was a handsy old man who beamed when he discussed his favorite topic, himself.
Unzipping the side zipper on the black silk dress, I let it slide from my body revealing only the lace thong beneath. The way the silky material clung to my skin and the neckline plunged between my breasts, any additional undergarments would have been impossible to wear. After hanging the dress back in the closet, I entered the bathroom.
The emerald necklace hung heavily around my neck, out of place without more clothing. Unclasping it, I took it to the small safe and added it to the other treasures. After last night, I decided to add the recent night’s chip receipt too.
Back into the bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror, turned away, and craned my neck. The sight of the small apple on my ass made me smile.
It was funny how I’d had the tattoo for over fifteen years and never had it brought me the pleasure it did last night. I didn’t mean sexual gratification. I meant genuine happiness. If I closed my eyes, I recalled Patrick’s expression as he came closer and ran his hand over the skin.
Wonder.
Awe.
Disbelief.
Pleasure.
Acknowledgment.
It all swirled in his blue eyes.
It was an experience I never expected to share. Now that I had, I knew Patrick was the only man, the only person, who would see the red fruit for what it truly meant.
While I would like the chance to talk to him once more, I was glad that earlier this afternoon I’d told him to stay away. I’d said it because I thought he’d stolen from me. That was no longer the case, but my current reasoning was direr. I couldn’t take a chance of a visit with Andros near. Mitchell was gullible. Andros was not.
Patrick wouldn’t understand the wrath of a man like Andros. I’d been wrong in presuming he’d stolen from me. Patrick was a good man, a man of morals. He shouldn’t be exposed to a world like the Ivanov bratva. He deserved better.
My face was freshly washed and my hair combed out and tied back in a low ponytail when I slipped into my nightgown. Cotton with lace trim, it was the kind of sleeping attire I normally wore. I chose it for comfort, not appearance. With my untouchable status among the Ivanov men and my five-year agreement with Andros, nighttime meant sleep, not sex.
Allowing the exhaustion from the day to wash over me, I turned off the last light and climbed between the cool sheets. Slumber came swiftly.
I startled awake to the ringing of my phone. The dark room around me remained unchanged, yet my hands shook as if I’d been dreaming or perhaps having a nightmare. The phone rang again. I couldn’t recall what I’d even been dreaming.
The screen of my phone said 1:32 a.m. One thing was for sure: I hadn’t been asleep long. “Hello.”
“My dear, your voice is a welcome sound,” Andros said.
There was noise coming from behind his voice, other voices that I couldn’t make out.
Was he at a club?
No, I didn’t hear music, only voices.
“Are you busy?” I asked.
“It was I who called you. Mitchell tells me that you advanced.”
I scooted up in the bed, sitting against the headboard with a smile. “I did. I did more than advance. My earnings have grown substantially.”
“My earnings,” he corrected.
“Yes, yours.” I tried to regain my earlier enthusiasm. “It’s a good thing. The more I have going into the final round, the better chances I have of winning. Your original investment has multiplied by more than twelve.”
“Hmm.”
His indifference caught me off guard. “That’s over $500,000.”
“I’ve never had trouble with math. The amount is inconsequential seeing as you could lose it tomorrow.”
“I could. I won’t. I played well, Andros. I thought—”
“You thought,” he interrupted, “that you deserve praise for doing your job. That is like praising a dog for sitting or fetching a ball. The tasks aren’t that difficult. I’m not dissatisfied with your play. Tell me about Marion Elliott.”
Play.
It wasn’t play.
I sighed. “I had a glass of wine with him before the tournament and learned that he’d ended the first night with $200,000.”
“The first night?”
“Yes.”
“Impressive. And your first night you didn’t break even.”
I swallowed the lump growing in my throat. “Yes, that’s true. It was part of my strategy. Tonight I had over $500,000.”
“And Elliott?”
“He didn’t say specifically. He ended the night again in first place. From what I could deduce, his stack is tall. It might equal the jackpot.”
“You spoke after the tournament?”
“Yes, I accepted his invitation to celebrate—as you’d told me to do.” I added the last part to remind him that it was his doing.
“And you celebrated?”
“At Bar Regal. I’m certain Mitchell reported that too.”
“Hmm. So tomorrow night you will bring me more than the million-dollar jackpot, additional millions or more in winnings.”
My heartbeat thumped in my ears as the wine I’d consumed percolated in my stomach. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will. You will do your best because we both know that I don’t like to be disappointed.”
“Andros.” The voices behind him were growing louder. “I should get to sleep.”
“Did Elliott mention any of the other players? I heard there was another buy-in.”
Patrick.
“When I spoke to Veronica this afternoon, yesterday,” I corrected, “the woman at Club Regal, she told me about the second buy-in.”
“Before we saw one another?”
“Yes, I didn’t think to mention it with all the talk of the handbag.”
“My dear, I expect you to think.”
Maybe I could if you weren’t such a dick. “I’m sorry. Anyway, I’m telling you now. She told me that she wasn’t in favor of either. The first one set a precedent making rejecting the second impossible.”
“Interesting. And what was Elliott’s opinion?”
I shook my head. “He didn’t say much about that. His favorite subject was himself.”
Andros’s laugh came through the phone. “It’s good that you’ve learned to be a good listener.”
“It was all very mundane,” I said, ignoring his continued disparaging comments. “Oil. Pipelines. Offshore drilling. He invited me to Texas, offering a tour of the oil fields.” I mentioned the last part on purpose. While it was true, I guess I wanted Andros to know that Marion Elliott treated me better than he treated me. “He was very cordial.”
“I don’t need to ask for your reply to his invitation to drill.”
Ugh. Of course, he’d think it was sexual. “You don’t, but I respectfully declined.”
“Did you give him your number?”
“No. I managed to change the subject.”
“I doubt he will go to the trouble of tracking you down. However, even if he does, don’t leave your room,” he warned. “And keep the phone charged. I like the ability to keep track of my belongings. Currently your GPS has you where you belong.”
Bile bubbled in my throat.
His belongings.
“Madeline, acknowledge that you heard and understand.”
“I heard, Andros. I’m tired. I was asleep when you called. I have
no intentions of leaving the room.”
“There is work at hand that requires my full concentration. It’s better if you’re not a distraction.”
I shook my head again. “I’m not. Good night.” As I uttered the last syllable, the sound of the locking mechanisms echoed from my door.
My breath caught in my throat. “Is that you?”
“It is me saying good night, my dear. Stay put.” The call went dead.
The door opened, coming to a stop at the engagement of the chain lock.
My skin cooled as I waited.
Should I scream?
Should I call the front desk?
“Madeline, open the door.”
Patrick
“Open the chain,” I demanded in a hushed growl, “or I’ll fucking cut it.”
“Patrick...” Madeline pleaded, her green-eyed stare coming from the small opening, “go away.”
“Is he in there?”
Her head shook. “What? He? Who? There’s no one here but me.”
“Then open the goddamn door.”
Without another word, her eyes closed and head tipped forward as the door closed.
With each passing second that I stood in the empty hallway my blood pressure rose.
Had she just locked me out?
I was ready to insert the key again and this time, kick in the damn door, freeing it from the chain, when the door clicked and opened inward. There she was—the calm to my racing pulse. Standing in a short cotton nightgown, her hair tied back in a low ponytail, and her face makeup free, was my Maddie. The lack of showmanship—the way she appeared at the tournament—stripped away the years until I could imagine us once again in the mission, two eighteen-year-old newlyweds who thought they were adults.
Simply put, she took my breath away.
I stepped inside the dark room. As the door swung shut, briefly the light from the hallway illuminated the entry. She was close enough to touch in a nightgown that came to above her knees, her arms, legs, and feet bare. Her complexion glistened, absolutely stunning.
Fuck. This was sexier than a negligee because this was real.
I fought the urge to smile.
First things first—I had a matter at hand that needed confirmation.
“Did he come back here with you?” I asked. “Did you have him meet you here after Mitchell brought you back?”
In the darkened space, her shadow moved until she twisted a switch, bringing soft golden illumination to the entry and room. Looking back at me, Madeline’s head tilted and eyes narrowed. “What the hell, Patrick? Are you questioning me?”
My gaze went around the part of the room I could see. “Yes. Just tell me if he’s here.”
“Just tell you. To hell with you. I don’t owe you an explanation for anything.” Her neck straightened. “But you sure as shit do. Who the hell are you talking about? He who?”
I walked past her, taking in the expanse of the otherwise-empty room and the barely mussed bed. There were no signs of what had occurred the night before. The covers were hardly moved and only one pillow showed the sign of an indentation. Without a word, I stalked back toward the entry and flung open the bathroom door. It bounced off the wall as I stepped inside. My shoes tapped upon the tile as I scanned each corner. With a huff, I pushed back the shower curtain.
Empty.
Determinedly, my steps found me back in the entry.
Madeline met me head-on. “What the actual fuck, Patrick? What is this with the macho-man act? Who are you looking to find?”
“Elliott,” I said, unsure why she wouldn’t know, seeing as they’d spent a good part of the night at Bar Regal together. “Where is he?”
Her chin snapped up. “If you must know, I have him tied up in the closet. And in other news, you’re an asshole.”
My gaze darted to the closed closet as I tried to make sense of her words. “You what?”
She pointed toward the door to the hallway. “Get out.”
Undeterred, I reached for the handle to the closet door.
“If you open that,” she proclaimed, “I never want to see you again.”
Stepping away, I turned to her. “He’s not here?”
“No, he’s not. I don’t know where he is. But even if he were here, it’s none of your business. I hate to be the one to keep breaking this to you, but I’m not your concern.”
Inhaling, I took a step back, spun slowly, and collected my breath as I ran my palm over the brittleness of my short hair. I’d tried to stay distanced, but watching her with Elliott had gotten to me. I hadn’t even remembered to look for Ms. Standish. Madeline may say she wasn’t my concern, yet the entire way here, the thought of her with Elliott consumed my thoughts.
When our gazes met again, I stared into her green orbs. “Madeline, I don’t understand, why Marion Elliott?”
“Jeez, you’re such a man.” She slapped the sides of her thighs. “It has nothing to do with attraction.”
“I saw you—watched you. You were smiling and laughing.” I wanted that to be me, not him. I couldn’t say that. Even in my head it sounded fucking pathetic.
Her head shook. “Like I said, I don’t owe you an explanation.” She sighed and sat at the edge of the bed. “I’ll tell you the truth. My spending time with him was nothing more than research. I have to know my opponents. He landed the number-one spot two days in a row. Of course, I’ve heard of him. He asked me to have a drink last night. I refused. Tonight, I thought, okay, what can I learn?”
“Poker? That spectacle tonight was about poker?”
“Spectacle?”
“Probably not to anyone else.”
“Whatever you want to call it. The answer is y-e-s.” She drew out the word as she stood facing me. “Research. For your information, Marion Elliott is not my type.”
“He’s rich.”
Her face spun back my way. “Thanks a lot, Patrick. You’re saying I’m a gold digger? I’m a gambler and now a gold digger. Are there any more insults you’d like to hurl before I kick your ass out of my hotel room?”
“That’s not...I didn’t mean it that way. Some women find money attractive.”
“So do men. Listen, I know how poor we were when we were young, but I’ve come to the conclusion that money doesn’t buy happiness.” She lifted her hand as I began to speak. “Revolutionary, I know. I’m probably the first person in the history of mankind to realize that.”
I scoffed. “Then I’m the second.” I reached for her hand. “I’m sorry I assumed...that doesn’t erase the fact that I fucking wanted to deck him—lay him out right there in Bar Regal.”
She forced a laugh. “It doesn’t work that way.” Though I tried to speak, she continued, “Yes, there’s a piece of paper somewhere that says two people, one who is no longer me, married. A piece of paper, that’s all. I don’t have any claims on you and you don’t on me.”
I did.
I had that paper.
I still had it.
And despite changing her name, she was still Madeline Tate who had married to become Madeline Kelly.
Instead of arguing, I reached forward and ran my finger over her warm cheek as I stared into her eyes. “You were stunning at the tournament, a fucking countess among peasants.”
“Peasants? You weren’t paying attention to their bets.”
“I was,” I said with a smile. “However, the bets weren’t where I wanted my attention, or should I say on whom?” I cupped her chin and pulled her face toward mine. “They are all peasants compared to you. Not only are you strikingly gorgeous, you were amazing tonight. I checked the rankings and earnings before I left the club. Damn, you turned $40,000 into five hundred. That’s pretty damn impressive.”
Her smile bloomed. “Thank you. That’s nice to hear.”
“If that asshole didn’t tell you how spectacular you were, I have another reason to deck him.”
“Marion?” She shrugged. “He did say something, but it sounds better coming from you.” Stepp
ing back, she reached for my hand. “I shouldn’t have let you in. You shouldn’t be here. Did anyone see you come in?”
“If you’re worried about Leonardo, I waited until he left.”
“Leonardo?” Madeline asked. “Oh, Mitchell. What do you mean left? This hallway?”
“The hotel.”
“He left the hotel?” Her brow furrowed. “It doesn’t matter. You still need to go.” Her bare feet padded across the carpet as she went to the door and opened it. Taking a step forward, she peered one direction and then the other. Looking back over her shoulder she said, “The coast is clear. You can go now.”
I reached for her hand and tugged her back into the room. “The coast is clear? Are we fifteen again?”
“Patrick, I mean it. You need to leave.”
I pulled her closer. “Tell me that you want me to leave.”
Maddie nodded. “I do.”
I took a step back. “I’ll leave, but you should know that now that I have confirmation that you’re alive and so fucking amazing, I’m not giving up getting back and keeping who is mine.”
“I’m not...”
“Piece of paper,” I said.
“What you say isn’t possible.”
“And last night?”
Her hand came to my chest, her fingers splaying upon my starched shirt. “Last night was...” Pink blossomed like roses on her cheeks. “I will always remember it.”
My hands skirted over her bare arms. “One more night, Maddie girl. Tell me you don’t want that?”
“I can’t.”
My smile grew. “Good because it is just the beginning of what I want.” I pulled my suit coat from my shoulders and tossed it onto a chair.
“No,” she said. “You understood only part of what I meant. I can’t tell you that I don’t want you to stay because I do. I also can’t. You do have to go. If Mitchell finds you here, I won’t be able to explain.”
“Does Leonardo come to your room in the middle of the night?”
She shook her head. “No, but...”
“Who does he report to?” The question just came to me. It didn’t make sense that she would care so much about his opinion.
“What? No?” She exhaled. “That’s not it. I have a reputation. Yes, I had drinks with Marion, but it wasn’t a spectacle. I didn’t go to his hotel or he to mine. I’m a woman in a male-dominated arena. If it would get out that you’re here, every man would think he could sleep with me. I can’t let that happen.”
Spark Page 13
