Page 84 of Double or Nothing

I do.

He doesn’t.

Bad sign.

He walks to his desk slowly, then leans against the edge of the polished walnut. The stance he uses when he wants someone relaxed before he slices them open. I’ve seen it many times from the sidelines. It’s never pretty.

“I wanted to ask you about your friend.”

The blood drains from my face. I feel it go.

“My friend?”

“Jack Reid.”

I force my expression into something neutral. Interested, maybe. I have no idea what the fuck I look like, I just hope I don’t look like a criminal.

“Ah, yes. Jack.”

“Interesting chap.”

“That’s one word for him.” I give a fake chuckle.

Bill laughs lightly. Fake, right along with me.

“Indeed. Rather colourful.”

“You could say that.”

“A casino owner, I believe?”

“Yes. In Mayfair.”

“Joint owner?”

“Um, yes. I think so.”

“With Eli Carlton?”

“Eli, yes,” I lie, since I have barely any knowledge whatsoever of Jack’s backstory, just his backside.

Bill knows more about Jack than I do. Of course he does. The question isn’t for information. It’s for rhythm. He’s setting the table.

“I made a few calls,” he tells me.

My stomach tightens.

“Right.”

“Nothing intrusive,” he says, which means the absolute opposite. “One always likes to know who exactly is throwing sixty thousand pounds at my daughter’s work.”

My mouth is dry. My fake smile blooms. “It was an extraordinary donation.”

“Quite.”

I try to hide the bluster.

“Jack is like that. He’s very generous.”