Page 346 of Double or Nothing

The casino entrance is discreet, set behind dark glass and polished brass. No gaudy lights announce the crazy money being spent upstairs by people in sharp tailoring. No music spills onto the pavement and the world outside.

I give my name to the doorman.

“ID, please.”

I hand over my driving license.

“Address.”

I give him my address.

He checks the tablet in his hand. For verification, for criminal offences, I don’t know.

Maybe to check I’m not straight out barred from the premises.

Please, God no.

It’s such a relief when he steps aside.

“Welcome to The Argent, Mr Maddocks. Please register at the entry desk on your way in.”

The doors open.

I’m on autopilot as I register as a guest at the reception desk and they direct me upstairs.

The casino nearly overwhelms me the moment I step onto the main floor. Muted gold light falls over dark wood and green velvet. A curved bar glows at the far side of the room, its mirrored shelves lined with expensive bottles.

Everything is immaculate. Alive. Buzzing. High class and opulent.

Sophisticated beyond belief.

And it astounds me. The effort and dedication needed to create somewhere like this. To establish it and maintain it.

This isn’t merely somewhere Jack visits to gamble. He built this. He owns this. All part of the life I accused him of neglecting.

A hostess offers me a drink.

“Water, please.”

I carry it to the nearest roulette table and pretend to watch.

The wheel spins. The ball jumps and people lean closer.

I don’t see where it lands, because my attention is far too erratic.

A blond man approaches the private tables.

Not Jack.

A senior member of staff crosses towards the bar.

Not Jack.

A door opens near the cashier’s desk.

Still not Jack.

I cross the room to order another water because standing with nothing more than an empty glass makes me feel twitchy.