Page 85 of Double or Nothing

“Do you know him well?”

No.

Yes.

Not enough.

Too well.

“Well enough,” I say, and hate myself instantly.

Bill’s eyebrows lift, just a touch. “That’s rather vague for you.”

“I’ve met him socially. Just a few times. He likes art. A lot.”

I don’t move. I don’t blink. I barely breathe.

“Does he now? Strange, how people have never seen him in that context.”

“Really?”

Bill’s mouth remains curved in that pleasant, faintly amused line of his until he scoffs at me. “Come on. Don’t look so startled, Bryce. London is not as large as people like to believe. Especially this London.”

This London.

His London.

The one with drivers who talk, associates who recognise, circles that overlap until privacy is nothing but a myth.

“I wasn’t startled.” I dare to laugh.

“Weren’t you?”

There it is. The soft pounce.

I fold my hands in my lap to stop them moving.

“Jack and I crossed paths recently. We got talking. The event came up. He has an interest in art, like I said.”

Bill smiles. Not kindly this time.

“Does he? Really?”

My skin prickles. It feels like dread personified.

“He bought three of Alice’s pieces. I’d say that’s a pretty clear indication.”

“So he did.”

I keep my smile bright.

“I’d say that qualifies as interested, no?”

“I’d say it qualifies as impulse,” Bill replies. “Men like Jack Reid rarely part with that amount of money without wanting something in return.”

My pulse races.

Don’t react.