Page 115 of Double or Nothing

“Entirely random.”

“Bullshit. That’s the most basic lucky number in the book.”

Alice’s knee presses against mine.

My truncheon swells.

The ball spins.

The casino blurs.

For one crazy second, there is no Bill Parker. No Christopher Otley. No power hungry empire, out for a new generation.

There is only the red and black, Alice’s smile, Jack’s hand brushing mine as he reaches for his cocktail, and the reckless part of me daring to take control.

The part of me that’s starting to understand why people throw everything on the table.

I don’t even bother looking where the ball lands, because there’s no point eyeing up the outcome. Not anymore.

I’m already far too gone for that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JACK

BT is so damn polite he says thank you three times before I’ve even finished my cocktail.

Three.

Seriously.

The first one is right after the roulette ball lands nowhere near his boring number seven and he’s taking the piss about it. Saying I’ve lost more of my precious coins to him. Thank you for the shot anyway. He thinks these tens are worth ten quid, no doubt. Not the ten grand each one of these bad boys really cost me.

The second is when Alice laughs and tells him gambling suits him, which makes him blush like a schoolboy with his hand caught in the biscuit tin. Any praise from Alice has Bryce looking like a man who’s been handed sunlight and doesn’t know where to put it.

The third is quieter, slipped under the sound of the wheel spinning again, meant for me and not the room.

“Thank you,” he says, eyes locked on mine.

I know what he means.

Not the chips. Not the fresh round of cocktails I just ordered. Not even the paintings, although those are obviously the big shiny headline. He means the whole mess. The invitation. The chance to step back into the game after running scared, terrified of losing his accountancy status. Except he hasn’t got any, has he? Not in the world outside of the Parker empire. Big, nasty Bill has kept Bryce’s CV bare bone barren for over a decade.

I wave off thank you number three.

“Don’t get sentimental at the roulette wheel, BT. It’s bad luck.”

He tips his head, actually taking it seriously.

“Is that an official casino rule?”

“It is now.”

Alice leans across me, all baby pink and sparkling eyes.

“You make up a lot of rules for someone who hates them.”

“Exactly.” I give her a cocky grin. “That’s the trick. Other people’s rules are tedious. Mine are works of art.”