Page 55 of The King (Masterpiece Duet 1)
They’re checking names off a list.
Some of the people clutch a cream vellum invitation with calligraphy, as if to prove that they’re allowed. Apparently their elegant gowns and tuxes wouldn’t be proof enough. I’m sure no one gets in if their identity isn’t confirmed.
“We won’t get in,” I say, my heart squeezing.
I knew it would be a bumpy road convincing Damon to let us play, hiding the counting and the signals, but it aches to be stopped so early. That game means college-level math classes and professional addiction therapy for Daddy. It means freedom from ever being bartered again.
“Let’s try,” Daddy says, but I know he’s secretly relieved we’ll be stopped.
He thinks Damon Scott is just as bad as his father. I tell him it’s not true, but that sounds like a lie. He looked so much like Jonathan Scott at the end, his eyes more pale and shimmery than ever. Like a cold, unfeeling monster. And then he’d left me, his eyes as impassive and stone-black as the water in that pool.
Exactly the opposite of what Damon Scott had been to me.
“Penny,” calls a feminine voice.
I turn to see Avery in a glittering gown that hugs her slender body. She looks like a celebrity stepping out of the limo. Gabriel emerges in a tux, growling about safety and letting him go first. The rough sidewalk could be a red carpet when they stroll over.
She grins at me. “You look lovely.”
I glance down at my black dress. There are sequins on it, which is the only nod to fanciness I had. Manufactured sparkle. Fake gems. And the saddest part is that the dress isn’t even mine. I borrowed it from Jessica. Give me something that will help me blend in with rich people.
“Thanks,” I say weakly. “I’m not sure we’ll get in.”
“I didn’t know you’d be here.”
My confidence wavers. “I…I have to talk to Damon.”
“Oh,” she says, hooking her elbow in mine. “You can come in with us.”
“There’s security. And they look… strong.”
“Gabriel will get us in,” she says, sure of him with a serenity that makes me blush.
Gabriel leans forward and whispers a few words in one of the bouncer’s ear. Then I’m ushered inside, Daddy following on our heels. One hurdle down. At least a hundred to go.
The crowd glitters in the large foyer, large gemstones sparkling from their necks, champagne glasses in their hands. Many of them turn to look at Gabriel Miller when we enter. Most of the women check him out. Some of the men, too. He cuts a handsome figure in his tux, his wild mane of hair and rare golden eyes compelling.
But only one man captures my attention, all the way in the back of the crowd, lurking in the shadows. Black eyes meet mine, glinting from the chandeliers.
Gabriel Miller is as bold as thunder, rumbling, unmistakable.
Damon Scott is lightning, so bright he’ll blind you. They’re both forces of nature but only one will kill you just to touch him. Only one will burn you in a flash.
Damon pushes through the crowd, more furious than I’ve ever seen him. “What are you doing here?”
The chatter stops almost completely, everyone watching us. Embarrassment turns my cheeks red. I don’t belong here, but this is my only chance. “I’m with my father. He’s playing tonight.”
“Like hell he is,” Damon says, glaring at Gabriel. “Did you bring them?”
“I took them in off the streets, if that’s what you mean,” Gabriel says in a slow drawl, clearly entertained by his friend’s fury.
“We took a cab,” I say, my fingers clenching together.
“Get out,” Damon says, eyes on me.
Acid rises in my throat. This is it. More than the game is at stake here. We’re at stake. Him. Me. Whatever twisted future we might have, when I’m a woman and he’s a man. “I’ll go,” I whisper.
“Not you,” he says sharply. “Everyone else.”
There are gasps and whispers. A few drunken protests.
He glances at Gabriel. “Kick them out. Or let them play, for all I care. I’m done here.”
With that he grasps my wrist, his grip firm but not bruising.
Despite his words I expect him to throw me out into the street. Or maybe take me to the private room with the small card table. What I don’t expect is for him to pull me up the stairs. I already know what’s here. I’ve been here before, carried in his arms. His bedroom.
There must be other rooms up here. We’re going to one of them.
But I know, even before we stop outside his bedroom. Before he crosses the threshold, taking me with him. Before he locks the door with an old-fashioned skeleton key.
There’s only one place he would take me tonight.
“All right,” he says, his tone casual. “Let’s play.”
“I want to play in the big game,” I say, my voice shaking.
