Arrogant Devil
Page 34
“That is Tatiana and Sarah,” he said, pointing to two girls across the table. “Eric and Jorge.” I waved and smiled as he introduced everyone I’d be playing with for the next few hours. The majority in attendance were Portuguese athletes, but Eric was an American rower and Tatiana was a Russian diver.
Nathan started shuffling the cards. “We will starting soon. There is a few people still to arrive.”
“Sangria estará pronto em breve!” cheered the guys mixing the fruity wine in the kitchen.
They started passing out small cups filled with the concoction as more guests filtered inside, filling the empty seats. The sangria looked good but smelled like equal parts brandy to wine, so I politely declined a cup. Kinsley, though overbearing at times, was right about our early morning practice; I didn’t need to be throwing up liquor while we did our workout.
“Sabe Frederick?” Nathan asked. “The swimmer?”
I pulled my attention from the room and glanced over. Nathan was beaming over at me, proud of himself for something.
“Um, yeah I know him, sort of. Why?”
He smiled wider. “He’s coming. Is the guest special for the evening.” He hesitated through the sentence, trying out the words for what seemed like the first time. Freddie was going to be a special guest?
My gut clenched at the thought and I stood from my chair like someone had lit a fire beneath me.
“What is wrong?” Nathan asked, staring up at me.
I shook my head and frowned just as the front door opened again. One of the British swimmers I’d seen in the food court walked in with Freddie right behind him. Everyone greeted them excitedly, but my heart rioted in my chest at the sight. He could slip on a pair of jeans and a gray Henley t-shirt. He could put a baseball cap on and pretend like he was Freddie, not Frederick, but I knew better. He had a certain charm about him—a faultless charm he was fully aware of—and when he glanced across the room and leveled me with his dark gaze beneath the rim of his hat, I knew it’d be a hopeless cause to try and get over him by flirting with a few soccer players.
There was no getting over him.
I wasn’t surprised when he slipped past open seats at the other tables and made his way toward me. I wasn’t surprised when he stopped at the seat beside mine, standing a foot away and stealing my comfort, my resolve, and my senses as he pulled the chair out from the table. I tried to focus down on the green felt, but it was no use. I still caught a whiff of his cologne—or maybe it was his body wash; I couldn’t tell. It was subtle but strong, and I found myself wishing for a stuffy nose so I wouldn’t have to keep smelling it. We get it. You’re a duke and you smell divine. Did he need to keep rubbing it in?
“I should have expected to find you here,” he said with a smirk I couldn’t see but knew was there. “Poker definitely suits you.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, finally turning to face him. MISTAKE. It was much easier to put up a barrier against Freddie when he wasn’t sitting inches away from me, smiling like the devil himself.
“Yeah, you’ve got quite a good poker face,” he continued.
I tilted my head and tried to get a good look at his eyes under the brim of his hat. Who was he trying to hide from in that thing? There wasn’t a person in the room who didn’t know who he was.
“Why do you think that?”
“You seem wholly unaffected by me.”
I smiled, glad I at least appeared that way on the outside.
“I am.”
He smirked. “Are you?”
It was a textbook example of dry British banter with just a tinge of good-natured provocation, but rather than giving him the satisfaction, I decided to go on the offensive.
“Congrats on the betrothal,” I said with an arched brow. “Caroline’s really pretty.”
The blow clearly found its mark as his jaw tightened. “She’s just a friend.”
“A friend that you’re engaged to marry,” I reminded him.
“My family set up the betrothal. It wasn’t any of my doing.”
I shook my head. “Clearly I don’t understand your archaic English traditions. To be honest, I didn’t even realize betrothals were still a thing. In America, we like to be in control of our own destinies.”
His light brown eyes met mine beneath his cap and for a moment I thought I caught a glimpse of the real Freddie, not the teasing London playboy, but a man faced with a future he might not want.
He opened his mouth to speak just as Nathan slapped the deck of cards down on the table in front of me.
“Everyone is here! Ready to play?”
Chapter Nine
Freddie
I HADN’T BEEN into the idea of poker night. I’d told Thom to bugger off a half dozen times, but he’d guilted me into attending with a sob story about how he “used to do this sort of thing with Henry all the time.” He’d have moaned on about it all night, and I didn’t want to hear about how my brother had been ace at poker, so I grudgingly accepted with strict terms: we’d go for a little bit, Thom would play a few hands, and then I’d get back to the flat and rest up. I had an early morning workout and I was still a bit jetlagged from traveling halfway around the world.
Of course that plan was tossed out the window as soon as I walked into the flat with Thom and spotted Andie across the room. She was standing up, looking a bit peaky, like she was ready to bolt at the mere sight of me. Maybe I should have given her space, but I didn’t. I slipped past a few blokes and made my way toward her table.
Our banter was easy, her presence was welcome, and though it’d surprised me to hear her speak of Caroline, I’d ended the discussion quickly. I didn’t want to talk about her, not when Andie was so close.
She enthralled me. I sat watching her out of the corner of my eye as Nathan passed round the cards and went on about the rules. It was dull, but I nodded along and watched Andie, taking in her delicate features and the hair pinned just at the nape of her neck. The pale shade of blonde reminded me of the summer sun. Her shirt fell off her shoulder closest to me and there were a slew of freckles dotting her tan skin there, just at the top.
“Freddie, if you keep trying to look at my cards,” she said, “I’ll have to ask someone to switch spots with me.” She kept her focus on her obscured cards, but I could see the smile she was trying to hide.
“Right.” I pretended to glance over my cards. “I was just wondering if you play poker often?”
Everyone was taking their time arranging their hand and assessing their odds, but it wasn’t bloody rocket science. I’d been playing poker for years and I didn’t have to concentrate hard on the game. I could play and focus on Andie; the two weren’t mutually exclusive.
“No, actually,” she replied. “I like to play games of skill, not luck.”
I nodded. “I’m afraid it’s not my strong suit either. I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve.”
“And where do you keep your spades and diamonds?” she asked with a soft smile.
Her smiles never lasted long enough. She was back to focusing on her hand, worried over the cards that had yet to be overturned, but I wanted her attention. I leaned closer and whispered in her ear.
“What if you and I have our own little wager?”
Her brow arched with curiosity, though she kept her focus on her cards. “Like a side bet? I didn’t bring any money.”
I nodded as I rearranged my cards. “Nothing serious. Just some fun since we’re both novices.”
She didn’t answer right away and when I glanced over, I found her eyeing me suspiciously, as if she was trying to see through my disguise. I watched as she brought her full bottom lip between her teeth, mulling over the bet, and for a moment I was worried she’d say no.
“I’ve not known an Olympian that was afraid of a little competition,” I taunted playfully.
She let go of her lip and straightened up. Just the mere mention of a competition lit a fire behind her gaze and I knew I had her.
“All right, you’re on
Mr. Viscount of WhateverItsCalled. What are we playing for?”
I smirked.
“We both have to workout, so I propose a ‘turf war’ of sorts. If I win, you join me in the pool tomorrow, and if you win, I’ll join you on the pitch.”
She titled her head, still inspecting me as if she’d find my true intent written across my features. I arched a brow and she reached out to shake my hand.
“You’re on.”
We shook on it and I didn’t let go until I was good and ready.
“I hope you packed a bikini.”
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Author Note
Thank you to all my readers, especially the Little Reds. I know there are so many books to choose from these days, and I don’t take it for granted that you all chose to spend a day or two reading mine.
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XO, Rachel