Page 26 of Double or Nothing

“Dad this is Jack. Jack Reid,” Alice says as she introduces my jovial fuck buddy to the man responsible for my salary.

“William Parker,” Bill says, and shakes his hand. “I’d like to extend my gratitude in donating so much to the hospice, and also thank you for valuing my daughter’s work so highly. She’s an exceptional talent.”

“She is indeed,” Jack says, and then he turns to me. “I’m very lucky that Bryce invited me along tonight. Such stunning gallery pieces for my wall.”

Bill’s eyebrows rise. He looks at me, not Jack. “Bryce invited you?”

I have to butt in.

“Yes, Jack likes art. And charity. He especially likes abstract art. He loves it.”

“I’m crazy about it. Always have been,” Jack says, and I know he’s laughing his joker head off inside at my bluster. “The gold foiling on Alice’s work is awestriking. Truly.”

Bill wraps an arm around his daughter’s shoulder, his cheeks flushed with pride, and I want to throw up, I’m so unsteady. Seeing Alice up close like this with her father… seeing his pride in her.

Knowing she’s worth so much more than I will ever be.

“Thank you, Jack,” Bill says. “She’s an excellent artist, I’ve known that since she was tiny.”

I’m so relieved when Langdon calls Bill away with a last-minute question. Seeing my boss with his little girl has thumped me in the guts. She’s his pride and joy. The princess who deserves the finest prince in the land.

That prince will never be me. Not in his world.

Jack is so unabashed as he takes her hand in his and hooks an arm through mine. He cares nothing for the prestige, or the pretentiousness, or other people’s opinions as he lets out a cheer and a let’s go pop that cork!

I can only thank the Lord that Bill is out of earshot, and thank the Lord even more that he’s out of view, because from the way Alice is beaming at Jack, and bobbing along on her heels, it’s pretty clear she’s all in for the champers, too.

I want to kick the bastard in more than the fucking shins now at the embarrassment of this mess, but I can’t help myself going along with it. Despite all of his tomfoolery, and his insane need for thrill-seeking, I can’t hold back my smile. Jack Reid is more than quite a character, he’s bloody addictive.

“Where are we going?” Alice asks when we reach the street outside the gallery.

“I know a decent place, over in Soho,” Jack says, and hails a passing cab. “Let’s hit it, guys. Celebration time.”

Alice is between us in the back seat, and I try to stare out of the window as Jack reels off more bullshit about artwork. There is no way he knows what the evocation of primitive sensation through colour means, he’s just spouting rubbish. He’s good at it, I’ll give him that.

The venue the cab pulls up outside isn’t some thumping party extravaganza, it’s a quiet wine bar on the corner of Knight’s Terrace. No doubt they’ll have plenty of champagne on hand, but we won’t be dancing the night away. Thank God, since I’m no dancer.

But Alice was. Long, long ago. She loved grooving to the beat.

Jack helps her out of the car like a gentleman, and she beckons me to join them. The panic in my stomach rises like bile, and I’m tempted to bid them goodnight and retreat to the safety of home. It would be the safe option. I could cite work obligations in the morning, wave them goodbye through the cab window and speed away, and part of me wants to. Part of me is scoffing at myself for the recklessness of even considering mixing business with pleasure.

But then I think of the empty spaces on the walls that Jack was referring to. My divorce papers on the coffee table. The hollow cocoon of myself I’d find waiting for me behind my front door.

I’ve been sensible for far too long.

Boring, as Sylvia would say. So, so, so fucking BORING, Bryce.

Jack echoes Alice’s sentiment, beckoning me out of the cab with a “get over here, BT” and my body follows him, leaving my brain behind.

He opens the door for Alice and lingers behind long enough to pinch my ass, smiling yet again against my ear.

“Just breathe, sweetie pie, and trust me, will you? Let me lead the way, whichever direction it goes.”

His tone is laced with filth, and fun, and craziness – his touch too inciting to ignore.

Where the hell have my senses gone? I can’t believe my own stupidity.

I’m addicted to a hot, dirty joker that I only just met last night. Jack Reid, a rulebreaker. A risktaker. And no doubt, a heartbreaker.