Page 50 of Double or Nothing

“I’m absolutely sure he will. Yeah.” He looks over at the clock on the front of the oven. “I’d say ten hours, tops. Maybe push it to twelve.”

I giggle through the tears. “Wait, did I miss something? What did he do? Profess his undying love for me when I was out of earshot?”

“He didn’t need to. It was blaring out like a fire alarm from the second he raced on over to us at the art exhibition.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “He’ll be back. Trust me.”

I fold my arms. A safety barrier against the optimism.

“To me or you? You, sure, but me? I don’t think so.”

Jack puts his mug down. Offers me a hand.

“Let’s make a bet on it. Twenty grand my end, a free painting on yours.”

I wipe my tears away.

“Are you for real? You want another one of my paintings?”

“You’ll be handing it over for free, so yeah. I want another one. Four for the price of three.”

“I’ll be getting twenty grand, more like it.”

He tips his head. His smile is wickedly beautiful.

“No chance. I’m always in it for the win. And I’ll win this one.”

I don’t shake his hand, just pick up my coffee mug.

“Maybe you should hear the story before you risk that kind of payout.”

He gestures to the sofa.

“Let me guess the story instead. I love a challenge.”

“Be my guest,” I say.

“No, be mine. After you.”

When I take a seat on the sofa the memories of last night come flooding back. Spreading myself like a slut for the pair of them. The incredible joy of Bryce’s lips landing on mine. His cock teasing before he slammed his way in. It was magical.

And now it’s gone.

Jack clears his throat, facing me when he drops himself down beside me.

“Here’s the game,” he says. “Let me question, but don’t reveal too much. Just let me find my way around the story.”

“Go for it. Knock yourself out.”

I can predict where Jack’s going to head with this. Exes from a long time ago, me cheating and regretting it, him never forgiving me and me scoring lucky on his divorce fucking him up. A rebound. I’m ready for the obvious road of questioning.

“Bryce is shit scared of pissing off your dad,” Jack says, and my eyes must be like saucers at the angle he’s taken.

“What? Where did that come from?”

“Your dad is his boss, yes? He was crapping himself when your dad was in the vicinity last night. I thought he might literally shit in his pants when your dad found out I’d bought the paintings from you.”

“My dad is his boss, yes.”

Jack smirks. “And Bryce is reliant on him for his salary? Let me guess. Is your dad the key to his whole existence?”