Page 25 of Double or Nothing

“What’s going on, Jack? Sixty grand on three paintings you don’t even like, and then strongarming the three of us out to a bar in celebration? Why?”

“There was no strongarming about it, and you know exactly why,” he tells me, and licks his lips without giving a toss for passersby. “Don’t play naïve, Bryce. Come on. Let’s have some fun. Chill out a bit.”

“You don’t know Alice. Not at all.”

“I didn’t know you until last night, sweet thing. Did it make any difference to how your ass felt around my cock? I’m sure Alice’s ass would love it too.”

I grit my teeth. “Please don’t talk about Alice in that way. She’s not like that.”

I feel as though I’ve got a rod up my own ass, I’m so bloody uptight.

Jack is still beaming.

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. She looks like she’d go off like a rocket.” He pauses long enough to see the flames of rage in my eyes. “Jesus, BT, you’ve got some feelings for her. You look set to blow.”

“She’s not a fucking hooker,” I say, and he leans in closer, his mouth to my ear.

“I know she’s not. She’s an artist from a family made of cash, and she’s in love with you.”

“What the –”

Jack’s mouth is still at my ear. “And if I was a betting man, sweetie pie, I’d say the feeling is mutual. Is the L word floating around in your pretty, pure soul somewhere? I think it may be. I saw the way you looked at her.”

“If that’s the case, what the hell are you doing, then?” I ask him, pulling away enough to see his smug grin. “Starting up a dating service?”

“Nah, not at all.” He pretends to brush fluff off my tux. “Call me an inciter. A player.” His eyes are so wicked, but so beautiful. “Call me curious.”

“Curious enough to spend sixty thousand on some crazy whim? What ridiculous games do you intend to play now you’re a sudden art lover?”

“You’ll have to wait and see, and they won’t be ridiculous. They’ll be fun.”

I roll my eyes at him, because the guy is a total liability. This place is teeming with people who know who I am, and know what I do, and know who I’m involved with.

“Anyway,” Jack says. “Those paintings are for you, not me. Call them a gift.”

My eyes widen. “Sorry?”

He shrugs. “You have some space on your walls now the redundant picture hooks have been pulled out. You can have them to fill the gaps. Thank me later with your butt, it’s clenched so tight it’ll be a dream.”

“Is this a fucking joke?”

“About your ass being tight? Hardly. It couldn’t get any tighter. You look like you’re being electrocuted, you’re so damn rigid.”

“No, you idiot. About the paintings!”

I curse under my breath as some of the Mackley crowd turn to glance at us, and Jack holds up a hand to them. He’s such a show off, free to act out, and laugh and jest in the spotlight.

I can’t help the stab of envy I get at that luxury. Part of me has always craved to soar free.

“Look, Bryce,” he says, his tone serious. “They’re a gift, alright? Accept them, have a good time tonight with a couple of glasses of champagne, then give me your ass later. You’re welcome.”

I’m dancing with danger, and I know it. Even in his seriousness, the sparkle of the jester is shining through, and I can’t help my dick ruling my head. I want to rip the asshole’s clothes off right here and shower him with kisses. And as for Alice…

My heart pounds when she returns.

“My father wants to meet you,” she says to Jack, and oh shit, how the flames of panic overtake me. “He’s over here,” she says, and takes Jack by the hand.

I tag along like a desperate fool, ready for damage control – praying that the idiot doesn’t say anything incriminating to my goddamn fucking boss.