Page 34 of Winter's Waltz
“Tell me you didn’t,” she challenged, voice cold. Unyielding.
A muscle in Sutton’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t.”
Max stared at the man, wondering if he was trustworthy. Suspecting he was not.
“Have you any word about the fire?” Max ventured. “From outside sources? Heard any rumblings about a woman opening a gaming hell exclusively for ladies? Enemies of the Winters?”
Sutton flashed a grim half smile. “Time was, I was an enemy of the Winters. But we have a truce now, eh, Gen?”
She scowled. “Barely. But you didn’t answer his lordship’s question. Do you know anything?”
“And if I do?” Sutton cocked his head. “What’s in it for me?”
By God, the man was not propositioning Gen—asking her to barter her body for information—before Max, was he? His body moved before his mind comprehended what the rest of him was about. He stormed forward, slapping his palms on the polished lion desk.
“Tell us what you know and I shan’t challenge you to a duel, Sutton,” he demanded.
Lord knew where the challenge emerged from. It was not the sort Max would have ever issued in his former life. The one where he drank and gambled himself to oblivion without a care in the world. But he was a changed man now. He was a man whodidcare. One who took notice of rights and wrongs.
One who wanted to be the solution more than he wished to be the problem.
Sutton’s countenance shifted, growing more impenetrable. Colder. More ruthless. “Careful, Lord Sundenbury. I might accept that challenge.”
“No duels on my behalf,” Gen interrupted. “Cease circling each other like a pair of dogs. I came here for answers, Sutton.”
“And I may have them, but they come with a price,” Sutton said.
“Name it,” Gen barked.
“One night with you.” Sutton’s grin deepened in unabashed enjoyment.
“No,” Max bit out before he could stop himself or think better of his reaction. “Go to hell, Sutton.”
“In case you haven’t taken note, Sundenbury, the East End is hell,” snapped Sutton, cocky as ever. “And I’m already here, the devil reigning over it all.”
“You don’t reign over the East End,” Gen was quick to deny. “You are second-in-command to the Winters, and you hate it. Admit it. That is why you set fire to my hell, Jasper, is it not? Or is it because I wouldn’t let you into my bed?”
Well, bloody fucking hell.
There it was.
If Max had harbored any doubts, he now had proof that Jasper Sutton had wanted Genevieve Winter in his bed.
Sutton sneered. “I wouldn’t set fire to your hell if it were the last hell in the East End. You aren’t competition for me. I’ve a square thing with Dom Winter. I’ll not ruin it for a woman no matter how much I want her. And to be fair, love, I don’t want you that much. There are plenty more where you came from.”
Max wanted to call the bastard out for that alone. There were decidedly not more where Genevieve Winter had come from. Indeed, there was not one other like her. He could damned well guarantee it.
“No need for bitterness over what you cannot have, Sutton,” Max said. “Tell us what you know about the fire.”
Sutton’s narrow glare landed on Max with ominous precision. “Tread with care, Sundenbury.”
“Threaten him and you threaten all the Winters,” Gen said at his side. “Don’t think you want to do that, do you, Sutton?”
Her championing of him sent an unexpected rush through Max. No one had ever defended him before. And certainly never someone like Genevieve Winter. He was not entirely certain he deserved it.Hell.He knew he didn’t. But he would take it, nonetheless. Shamelessly, too.
“No,” Sutton relented, nostrils flaring with displeasure. “Sundenbury is tupping you. I understand. Save your threats, Gen.”
Tupping? Max started making his way around the desk, but Gen placed a staying hand on his elbow.
