Page 113 of Double or Nothing

Christ.

I stop dead.

He looks made for this room. Not dressed for it. Made for it. Black tux, open confidence, blond hair bright under the casino lights, one hand resting on the edge of the table like he owns both the wheel and probability itself. He’s laughing at something the croupier says, head tilted, smile wicked enough to ruin lives.

He is ruin, right there in human form.

And beside him is Soul Girl.

My chest pulls tight.

She looks incredible.

No. More than incredible.

She looks like every reckless thought I tried to bury has stepped into the room wearing dusky pink rose. Her dress skims her body in a way my eyes have no business cataloguing. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, but pinned on one side. She has a glass in one hand and a chip in the other, and the yellow of the casino lights catches the diamond studs in her ears.

She’s not just the Parker princess.

She’s not just her daddy’s expectations.

She’s Alice.

Alive and glowing.

Jack leans towards her and says something. She laughs, and the sound reaches me somehow through all the noise. Straight into the core of me.

I’m done.

Completely done.

There is no sensible exit now. No last chance to turn around. No return to the cab, to the flat, to the paintings waiting like soul huggers, ready for my walls.

Jack looks up and spots me instantly. Of course he does. His grin spreads slowly, like he’s been expecting me down to the second.

He lifts a hand in greeting.

Alice follows his gaze.

Her smile changes when she sees me.

It softens first. Then brightens. Then it turns into something that makes my knees feel unreliable.

Every step is a reckless decision as I walk towards them.

Every step is a betrayal of Bill, of caution, of the neat little life I keep trying and failing to crawl back into.

Good.

Jack steps aside to make room at the wheel.

“BT! Look at you. Very dapper. I was worried you’d turn up in those tragic chinos again.”

I roll my eyes.

“Give me at least some credit please, jackass. I do have a brain in my skull.”

“Excellent. That kind of faux pas would have been unforgivable.” He leans in close. “I’d have still taken the sixty grand you’re welcome from your tasty asshole, though.”