Page 52 of Full Throttle

“Good,” Liêm said. “I’ll go first. Sinclair. I dare you…”

Mercifully, the dares were tamer than she’d anticipated. Cap had to buy drinks for everyone in the casino. Baz had to eat six jalapeños without sweating (“I’m Spanish,” Baz said, frowning. “You realize this is just a snack for me, no?”). Eventually, all three boys bowed out, leaving only Anthony, Dominic, and herself. Anthony took a long swig of champagne, looking at Dominic with consideration, and a flicker of apprehension filled her. Whatever was coming next, it wasn’t good.

“Hastings. I dare you—”

“Here we go,” Dominic muttered.

“—to get that girl’s number.”

Anthony nodded across the casino, to where a stunning brunette stood by the blackjack table, saying something that made the table laugh. Juliette’s stomach knotted. It was clear that the woman had the sort of confidence that most people would have sold a kidney to achieve. Stupid, she thought, to compare herself. Women had been comparing themselves for years, in the aisles of grocery stores, or to friends while shopping, or to glossy celebrities in magazines. There was no point. It only ended in misery.

Still.

Hard to shake a lifetime’s worth of habit.

For a moment Dominic’s gaze slid to Juliette. She looked at the marble pillars until they blurred into a row of white teeth. She’d rather chew glass than look anything but unbothered. If he thought for a second that she was upset, or angry, or…or jealous, she’d never live it down.

Dominic shrugged. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

There was the scrape of the stool. Don’t look, she thought firmly, but she did, of course. The woman smiled as Dominic approached, and he rested a casual hand on her stool, leaning over to say something that made her laugh. Something searing lodged in her chest, and Juliette muttered something about another drink, pushing blindly toward the bar. By the time she returned, Dominic was holding out his phone for Anthony’s inspection.

“Satisfied?”

Anthony’s smile was a blade. “Did you fancy her?”

Juliette toyed with her paper straw and did her best not to care. Or at least look like she didn’t care. Dominic’s warm shoulder pressed into her like an insistent question, although she ignored it.

He tucked his phone away. “Sounds like another question. Anyway, it’s my turn.” There was something dark and assessing in his eyes. “Sinclair. Stand on this table and sing any Taylor Swift song of your choice.”

Juliette glanced up. Really? That was his dare? Cap must have felt similarly because he snorted. “Oh, come on, Dominic. Pick something exciting.”

Anthony’s mouth tightened. “Agreed. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

“That’s my dare,” Dominic said. “Take it or leave it.”

Anthony folded his arms. “I don’t know any Taylor Swift.”

“Don’t worry.” Dominic scrolled through his phone again. “I do. What do you fancy? Country? Pop?”

Twin spots of color burned in Anthony’s cheeks. She examined his casually unbuttoned shirt, his silver necklaces, the signet ring that glittered on his pinky…And then it struck her. There was nothing that Anthony Sinclair valued more than his image. And if someone took a video…if someone posted the clip to social media…

She hid a smile. Hastings, you stupid genius. Dominic met her gaze, and for just a second something like mischief sparked between them. Then Juliette thought of Paris and any amusement vanished. She turned away, reaching for her drink.

“No.” Anthony’s teeth clenched. “I’m not doing it.”

Dominic shrugged. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn he was still trying to catch her eye. “Guess you’re out then.”

“Fuck this,” Anthony muttered. “What happens now?”

Liêm spun his top hat around a finger. “As the last player to go out, you assign each player a dare. And if they don’t complete it, they lose.”

Juliette paused with her drink raised halfway to her mouth. Wait, what? What? She’d been expecting a draw, not a gunfight. Lord only knew what Anthony would dare them to do. Probably slit each other’s throat with playing cards. That would certainly eliminate ten percent of the competition on track. Dominic must have been thinking along the same lines, because he stilled.

“Sinclair assigns our dares?”

“Why?” Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Got a problem with that?”

“Not at all.” Dominic spread his hands. “Go right ahead.”