“A necklace?” Conrad raised an eyebrow. “When you could have had her dress? I’m disappointed, son. Very disappointed indeed.”
“The necklace can be a bonus prize for the next winner,” Alex said. “Unless it’s something special of course.”
“Not at all.” Conrad held up his hand and the woman behind his chair put the necklace in it. He leaned forward and put the glittering diamond strand on the table. “We have to keep this fun, right?”
Several rounds passed, Alex winning all of them. The woman behind the Texan lost her shoes while–to keep things equal opportunities presumably–the man behind Mrs. Lau lost his shirt.
“Hmmm,” Conrad said lightly as the cards were dealt out yet again. “Are you planning on winning all these rounds, St. James? Feeling a little protective of your girl maybe?”
Alex’s gaze was on his cards. He lifted a negligent shoulder. “I just had some good hands. And this one’s shit.” He put it back down on the table. “I fold.”
The Chinese woman won the round, and Katya saw Conrad’s gaze flick to where she stood behind Alex’s chair, could almost feel the silent urging the man was giving off. But Mrs. Lau clearly had no interest in Katya, because she gestured to the woman behind the sheikh’s chair. “Take something off. I don’t care what.”
Conrad leaned his elbows on the table. “Oh, come now, Mrs. Lau. Take an interest. A good businessman or -woman should know their stock.”
Stock? Interesting word to use.
Mrs Lau’s cold, black eyes gave him a glance. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, her face absolutely expressionless. “The dress,” she said at last, turning to gesture at the woman. “Let us see.”
The woman behind the sheikh’s chair did as she was told without hesitation. She didn’t even blush as she shrugged herself out of the cocktail gown she wore, placing it over the rail separating the table from the spectators.
“Very nice,” Conrad said. “What do you think, August?”
The Texan’s gaze was acquisitive because the woman was, it had to be said, very beautiful. “Pretty damn cute.”
But there was something in Mrs. Lau’s eyes as they ran over the young woman’s figure that sent a shiver down Katya’s spine. It wasn’t in the least bit sexual, unlike the men’s gazes. More as if she were studying a fine piece of horseflesh she wanted to buy.
Katya filed that away in her head for future reference as the game went on.
As the next couple of rounds proceeded, first the American woman won, undressing the single male stand-in down to his boxers. Then it was the scarred mercenary’s turn to win. His gaze was dispassionate as he gestured for the woman standing behind Conrad to lose her gown.
The woman did so. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but this didn’t seem to worry her as she stepped out of her dress, straightening and standing there calmly.
“Beautiful,” August said, whistling his appreciation. “I like good tits on a woman.”
“I’m sure we’ll be seeing plenty of those soon enough.” Conrad smiled down the other end of the table straight at Alex as the dealer dealt another hand. “I think it’s time to stop protecting your lady friend, son. I’m sure she can handle it.” His smile widened, his gaze shifting to Katya. “Can’t you, darling?”
Oh yes, he was playing with them. With both of them.
This was like the military school she’d gone to. Where the teachers would take the pupils outside in the middle of winter, make them stand naked in the snow, then throw buckets of cold water over them. Teaching them to suffer the pain and the cold. To bear it. Tough it out.
This was nothing compared to that.
She straightened her shoulders and made herself smile in return. “Of course I can.”
Alex’s lean figure, sprawling lazily in the chair in front of her, didn’t move. “Well, shit, sweetheart,” he said casually. “If you want to take your clothes off, far be it from me to stop you.” Nothing in his posture or his voice gave him away, but she knew he was tense all the same. She could feel it radiating from him like heat from the sun.
And perhaps Conrad sensed it too, because his eyes had taken on a predatory glitter. It made Katya want to put her hands up, loosen her muscles, prepare to attack or defend. But she did neither, keeping her hands at her sides instead.
The round went on and she found herself gazing at Alex’s hands. Long, with narrow fingers. The hands of a pianist. An artist. The hands that had touched her in the gym, given her such pleasure …
One was curled loosely around the tumbler of vodka that had stayed at the same level for most of the past hour. The other was spread on his thigh. No one else could see, but she could. And she knew the knuckles of that hand were white.
“Straight flush,” Conrad said, laying his cards on the table. “My round, I believe.”
There were only two others still in. The American woman pulled a face and threw her cards onto the table while Alex laughed and did the same. “It’s yours. Buckle up, Katya mine. This shit is about to get real.”
Conrad’s smile widened. He wasn’t looking at Katya now; he was looking directly at Alex. “She can lose the dress.”
Alex crossed one leg over the other, looking completely at ease. “Well, naturally she can lose the dress.”
Katya began to reach behind her to grab at the zipper, but Conrad raised a finger.
“No. I don’t want you to do it, sweetheart. I want him to take it off for you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
There was a second when Alex seriously debated the merits of saying to hell with his plan, flinging aside the poker table¸ striding over to Conrad, putting his hands around the motherfucker’s neck, and strangling the life out of him.
But no, Alex couldn’t do that. He was meant to be playing along, doling out small crumbs of his supposed pain to the bastard to keep him interested. Keep him feeling like he was the master puppeteer while in reality it was Alex who was the one making Conrad dance.
And using Katya to do it.
Jesus. Since when had she begun to matter? Yes, she’d become more than a mere employee since she and Alex had gotten to Monte Carlo, but a couple of shared orgasms didn’t mean shit.
They didn’t warrant the guilt settled down low in Alex’s gut or the fury that ate away at him now. Guilt that he hadn’t told her of his plan. That he was going to let her believe Conrad was getting to him. And fury that Conrad thought he could screw with her in the first place.
Alex didn’t understand why it should matter to him that she be naked in front of these people. Why he should care so much about her modesty. Especially when she’d told him she didn’t mind. Shit, this was war, wasn’t it? And she was a damn soldier.
But whatever the reason, that didn’t change the emotions that sat inside him. The fact that he cared.
He didn’t want her to have to take her dress off in public for Conrad’s personal gratification and the lecherous gaze of the other men around the table. He didn’t want her to be a pawn in his private game of revenge.
Conrad was looking at him like he’d already won, as if this little power play had worked, which was all part of the plan. The guy was taking the bait like the power-hungry prick he was, picking up on Alex’s barely concealed fury as Alex had hoped, pushing harder, further. Such as this latest ploy, getting him to take Katya’s dress off. Another way to dig the knife in and wiggle it around, trying to hit a nerve.
Well, it might be all part of Alex’s plan, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. Though in a way, it made it easier that he didn’t have to pretend to get angry. The only thing he had to do was conceal it badly and make Conrad believe he was trying to hide it.
He clenched his jaw so it looked like he was biting back angry words and shrugged a stiff shoulder. “Well sure, I can do that. Shall I get you a drink while I’m up? Fetch your dry cleaning too?”
Jason laughed and Christine giggled. The others only watched Alex as he got up from his seat and turned to face Katya
.
She’d told him this didn’t mean a thing to her and he could see it didn’t. There was no fear in her eyes, only strength. She smiled at him and this time it was genuine, and obviously meant to allay his fury.
But it really didn’t. Because he was still using her and he knew it.
He moved behind her, reaching for the zipper of her dress.
“Slowly,” Conrad said. “We don’t want to rush things.”
Alex grinned, making sure it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey, it’s me. You think I don’t know how to put on a show?”
He had to use his guilt and his anger to put on a show. He had to keep thinking of his revenge. Of the information he would get for his friends. That was all that mattered. Certainly undressing Katya in public with a roomful of people watching didn’t. She was a soldier after all. She was used to being used as a pawn, to following orders.
You’re no better than Conrad. Using people. Playing with people.
Christ, he knew that. He’d always known that. The only difference was that he knew he was a prick and not worth the time of day.
Yet despite all of that, he put one hand on Katya’s hip to reassure her as he began to draw down the zipper. She didn’t shake or tremble as the green-gold silk began to loosen, her body rock solid. But his hand … it shook.
Fuck. Pull yourself together.
Carefully he pulled the zipper down and pushed the silk from her shoulders, easing it from her body and off.
She stepped from the green fabric, her chin held high.
Conrad’s eyes had grown hooded as he looked her up and down. “Oh, nice, yes. Very lovely, my dear.”
The others were looking at her too: Mrs. Lau as if sizing her up for something, August as though he wanted to devour her, Christine with a narrowed gaze, and the mercenary as if he were gazing at a rock rather than a woman, nothing at all in his eyes. The sheikh didn’t look at her at all, his attention on the table instead.
Alex put his hands on her waist, her skin cool beneath his fingers. More reassurance but also to send a clear message to the rest of the table that she was his. “Naturally she’s lovely,” he said. “I have a reputation to uphold after all.” He stepped around her, over to the table, and picked up the diamond choker he’d won in the first round. His necklace now. “But I think she could use a little adornment.” Turning back, he met Katya’s eyes. She gave an almost imperceptible nod. The color was high on her cheeks, but there was nothing but staunch determination in her expression. Gently he looped the choker around her neck, a reminder to everyone else, should they forget, that she was his. “There. Perfect.” He stepped to the side and gestured to her. “Voila. Enjoy, mes amis.”
Conrad’s attention had shifted from Katya back to him again, his eyes narrowed. Gauging Alex again. “She’s still wearing underwear.”
Alex shrugged. “Yeah, I know. It’s a pity. But you’ll have to win again if you want those off. One item of clothing, remember? Rules are rules.” He went back to his chair and sat down. “Another round?”
Conrad sat back. “I was contemplating a short break. So we could admire the view as it were.”
No fucking way. It was another push, another test, but Alex was sick of Conrad upping the ante all the time.
Alex took a leisurely sip of his vodka, only a taste, nothing more. “Well, sure. But that’s not going to get her panties off, is it?” He made a show of looking around the table. “Though, I mean, if everyone else wants a break—”
“I want the panties off,” August said decisively. “Deal again, South.”
A glitter of irritation glowed in the older man’s eyes. “Very well. But let’s up the stakes a little, hmmm?”
Excellent. Alex wasn’t going to argue with that. Perhaps he could use this as an opportunity to get some information. About the stand-ins behind each chair, for example. Because there was something off about them too. He knew the kinds of high-class hookers who hung out at these sorts of places and they had nothing in common with the women behind the chairs.
Hookers would hang off the arms of their clients, smiling and laughing and making them feel important. They didn’t stand there with blank faces and empty eyes, looking like they weren’t there at all.
Like you did.
His throat tightened in sudden recognition. At the end of his rape, when Conrad was finishing, Alex had pretended he was at the St. James beach house in Cape Cod. Somewhere safe. Somewhere he’d been happy. Away from the reality of what was happening to him …
Fuck. Those women were doing exactly the same thing; he’d bet his life on it.
Something cold gathered tight in Alex’s gut. What the hell was going on here?
Christine leaned in toward Conrad, the expression on her face avid. “Sounds good. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, we’ve viewed the … ah … merchandise so to speak. Why don’t we take the opportunity to test it out?” Conrad’s attention shifted to Alex. “A night with the girl standing behind you, St. James.”
The others were murmuring things, but he couldn’t hear them. His whole focus was on the man at the other end of the table.
Earlier he’d used the word “stock’ to Mrs. Lau when suggesting clothing to remove. Now it was “merchandise.” The cold sank deeper. Something not right was going on here, something more than just gambling; Alex could feel it in his bones. And now he’d involved Katya.
Every part of him wanted to refuse, to tell the other man to fuck himself, because he would never hand Katya over to Conrad like she was a possession. But Alex needed to know if his suspicions were correct. Which meant this had to play out a little longer.
He toyed with his vodka tumbler. “A night? So delicate, Conrad. Why don’t you tell it like it is? You want to put sex on the table.”
Conrad only smiled. “Got a problem with that, son? It probably wasn’t what you were expecting when you came in here, right? Well, the Apocalypse game is … unconventional and yes, surprising. But we’ve had no complaints in all the years we’ve been playing it. In fact, we’ve even made a few valuable friends over the years.”
“Play, Conrad.” The unfamiliar voice came from the mercenary, who hadn’t spoken one word the entire game. It was harsh and cold as a beach in winter, the words sounding like an order.
Interesting. What was his deal?
Conrad merely shrugged. “Getting impatient, Elijah? I trust you have no problem with the stakes?”
“No,” the man snapped.
“Excellent. Then of course, let us move on.”
Alex put his vodka down. Another token protest was in order. “Here’s a radical idea. Before we proceed, how about we ask the lady in question if she’s happy with the stakes?”
Conrad gave a short laugh. “Oh, I think she’s fine with it. Aren’t you, darling? I mean, you don’t really have another option. Not if you want to keep Mr. St. James in the game.”
Christ, he was transparent. Wiggling the knife again, prodding for a reaction. Alex let a ripple of irritation cross his features, giving Conrad the response he was looking for as another sop to the man’s ego.
Pity the irritation was actually real.
“I suppose Alex will just have to win then,” Katya said from behind him, her accent even thicker than normal.
“And if he doesn’t, you’ll be quite safe with me, I assure you.”
A hand rested briefly on Alex’s shoulder. Katya’s. She squeezed gently as if to remind him of her strength.
In the years after Conrad, Alex had always sworn to himself that he would never feel shame or humiliation again. But he felt shame now.
You knew Conrad would use her.
Perhaps Alex had. And perhaps she would even have been okay with being used if she’d known the truth, because he suspected she was the kind of woman who would understand revenge.
But he hadn’t trusted her with the truth. And here she was, trusting him despite it.
Look at you. Caring about someone …
<
br /> Fuck. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t afford to. Emotion made you weak. Made you a victim, and he was no one’s fucking victim. Not ever again. And hell, if he was thinking this kind of crap it meant that despite his best intentions, Conrad had gotten to him.
Which meant it was time to end the evening. And that wouldn’t be a bad thing. He could win the information he came for, win Kaya, and get out. Spend the next day or so making sure he was in the right head space without all of this emotional bullshit clouding his mind, then issue Conrad his ultimatum. No other players. Just him and Alex.
Perfect.
He looked around the table. “Okay, but I think it’s my turn to mix it up a little. Seven-card stud, anyone?” It was one of his preferred poker variants and he’d won several tournaments with it.
Maybe the others thought it was a good idea too, because they all looked at Conrad expectantly. Who only shrugged and nodded to the dealer. “Three rounds. Winner takes all.”
Well, shit. First time in the evening Alex actually agreed with Conrad.
The dealer dealt out the cards and Alex picked his up, glancing at them. Two aces. And one on the table. This game was done already, unless one of the others had a straight flush with the remaining ace. Beside him Christine laughed.
The sheikh put his cards on the table immediately. “I’m out.” He pushed his chair back. One of his aides said something sharply in Arabic, but the sheikh lifted a hand, silencing him.
Mrs. Lau shrugged and put her cards down. “I fold also.”
Conrad pushed some chips onto the table. “I shall stand.”
August tapped his poker chip against the table. “Fold with that kind of pussy on the table? I don’t think so.” He matched Conrad’s bet with a couple more chips.
Alex looked to Elijah, the mercenary. Again, that flash of recognition, though the name meant nothing to Alex. The man looked back, his black eyes depthless. He didn’t say anything, but he put his cards down and pushed them away with a sharp movement.
Another fold.
Christine smiled at Alex and pushed some chips into the center. Which meant her hand was shitty and she was bluffing it out. “You standing?” she asked.
Make You Mine Page 20