Page 275 of Double or Nothing

I sit opposite him and discuss investor support while rage ignites into a ball of flames inside me. But I keep it contained.

I only tap into it for extra ammunition.

That night, Jack and I work from opposite ends of his kitchen island.

Alice’s stool remains empty between us.

Neither of us sits in it.

Jack has printed out photographs of the likely bidders. He moves them around the island like playing cards, changing their order as he thinks.

“Mercer enters late,” he says. “Foster follows whatever the room is doing. Dalloway wants anything Foster wants because they hate each other. Our bidding will stop at seven hundred and fifty, max.”

“Seven hundred,” I correct.

“Yeah, seven hundred and fifty.”

“Stop it, Jack. Precision matters.”

He pulls a fake gunshot. “Not to me, it doesn’t. I’ll read the room, baby.”

“It might when you get carried away and end up bidding seven million.”

Jack grins.

“Seven million for some paint I rolled in and a splash of my own cum? Even I’m not that much of a jackass, BT.”

Fuck me, how I love his smirk. So alive, even though we’re both working like surgeons on an emergency lifesaver.

His expression fades when he looks at the empty stool.

“Anything showing up from Soul Girl?” I ask him, knowing full well he’ll be stalking her behind the scenes.

“No.”

“Profiles?”

“Still offline.”

“They’re taking her to the auction. Bill confirmed I’ll be attending.”

His gaze snaps back to mine.

“Bill confirmed it?”

“I’m accompanying her, yes. But only at the venue. Not before.”

The sharpness of Jack’s attention feels like spears of ice. The rage under the surface no doubt as real in him as it is in me.

“When will you see her, then?”

“Only at Hammersmith, with Christopher in tow.”

“Tell her,” he says. “The second you have the chance. Tell her we haven’t gone anywhere.”

“I’ll try.”

His eyes are still right on mine.