Playing with Temptation

by Reese Ryan

  Roland pushed all of that out of his mind. He focused instead on red and black, diamonds, hearts, clubs and spades.

  “We thought you might have changed your mind.”

  That was the first comment that greeted Roland after he’d cleared the steps and walked down a short hallway into a brightly lit room. The walls were painted white there, too, and were covered in framed pictures of children, teenagers and older people. All photos had been taken on Grand Serenity, all faces appeared happy and content.

  The round table in the center of the room had six chairs surrounding it, one of them empty.

  “Game time is at nine,” Roland replied and looked at the Harry Winston Ocean Tourbillon watch he wore. “It’s eight fifty-five.”

  “In the nick of time,” a second man spoke as Roland made his way to the empty chair and took a seat.

  The first man who had spoken was Nelson Magloo, a fifty-something-year-old man who favored fedora hats and gold pinkie rings. Last year, Magloo and his twenty-one-year-old wife, Isla, had built a mansion on the eastern side of the island. Magloo was an oil tycoon from Nevada who’d just recently found out he’d inherited stock in the old Chapman oil refinery on the island.

  The second man to speak was Henri Jauvian, a French businessman vacationing on the island in secret with one of his many mistresses.

  Also in attendance were Reece McCallum, famed NASCAR driver; Kip Sallinger, owner of the Moonlight Casino; and Hugo Harrington, one of Roland’s father’s oldest friends. The group had been assembled by invitation only and Roland was honored to join them. He would also be honored to take every dime they each brought to the table.

  “Who’s dealing?” he asked when they all continued to stare at him.

  “That’s right,” Reece remarked with a crooked grin. “Can’t expect the royal prince to deal the cards for us.”

  “I can deal cards just fine,” Roland told him. “Just as I can take your money without a second’s hesitation.”

  “Cocky bastard, ain’t he?” Kip said with a chuckle that made his rotund upper body vibrate.

  “But he can’t play no better than his granddaddy could,” Hugo added and took another puff on his cigar.

  Roland was used to cigar smoke. His father kept a humidor on his desk and two in his private suite. Rafferty DeSaunters loved few things in life, his children and his cigars being among them.

  “Josef couldn’t play worth squat,” Hugo continued after the cards had been dealt.

  Roland held his cards loosely as he sat back in the chair. “And yet, he beat your father and a much younger, healthier and cockier you, on more than one occasion.”

  The others laughed and Hugo frowned. “I won plenty. My pappy, well, he was another story,” Hugo quipped. “Now pony up fools. I’m in for three.”

  Reece whistled. “Three thousand dollars. Hugo, you hit the lottery or somethin’?”

  “No lottery here on the island. Good ole Rafe don’t like gamblin’ too much. I was surprised as the rest of the islanders when he let you come down here and open up that big shiny casino,” Hugo said to Kip.

  Roland remained silent as he continued to contemplate the cards in his hand.

  He didn’t comment on the subject at hand because he knew how his father felt about gambling. Roland’s sitting there at this very moment had a lot to do with Rafe’s misgivings on the subject. The DeSaunters family history, where gambling was concerned, was no secret, no matter how much Rafe wished it were.

  Josef Marquise DeSaunters was not only known for leading the revolt against Marco Vansig and thus taking control of Grand Serenity in the late 1950s, but for his luck with the cards. Before the plan to take back the island had ever entered Josef’s mind, he was a hustler. Or, at least, that’s what Roland liked to think, because a good high-stakes card game was not the only venture that his grandfather excelled at. Josef could talk a woman out of her fortune. With his root-beer-colored eyes and movie-star looks, Josef would likely have the woman naked in bed while at the same time be emptying her bank account. He was good-looking, charismatic, fun-loving and, above all, courageous. All traits Roland felt blessed to possess himself. On more than one occasion he’d wondered what it would have been like to be Josef’s son, instead of Rafe’s.

  Rafferty DeSaunters walked the straight line. He made the right decisions, did the honorable thing, said the perfect words and fought the good battle. He was, in every sense of the word, born to be a prince. Roland, on the other hand, was not. Or, at least, that’s what the press said.

  Roland set his cards facedown on the table, reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a wad of cash. He counted until he’d matched Hugo’s amount.

  “I’m in,” he said somberly and placed the remaining bills back inside his jacket.

  “Yeah, I’m just feelin’ lucky tonight. Real damn lucky,” Hugo said.

  Hugo held his cards tight and was grinning as if he knew he held the winning hand. Roland almost smiled at that thought. Instead, he remained silent, watching as the others studied their cards and made their moves. There had been no reason to go over the rules for this game; they’d all played at this level before. The secret, all cash, no-holds-barred level. There would also be no tell signs, Roland thought as he looked across the table to Reece, who was still studying what he’d been dealt. They were all professionals, which meant each one of them was just as good at bluffing as he was at winning. At least, four of them were.

  “Fold,” Henri said grimly and pushed his cards facedown toward the deck.

  Kip and Reece added their bets to the pot, and Hugo smiled giddily. “Yes sir! Lucky indeed!”

  Reece put down two cards, nudging them toward the dealer so he could take two new ones. Kip took one new card. Hugo took none. Neither did Roland.

  “I’ll raise the bet,” Hugo said, “to three thousand five hundred.”

  Roland was amused.

  Reece folded. Kip did, too.

  Roland saw the bet.

  Hugo continued to smile.

  Roland slowly set his cards down faceup in a neat row on the table.

  Hugo almost fell out of his chair he was so excited. A huge grin spread across the man’s face as he fanned himself with his cards. “Best night ever!” he said before finally dropping his cards to the table.

  Roland didn’t look down to see his opponent’s cards immediately. Instead, he kept his gaze trained on Hugo Harrington. He was a short man, well below Roland’s six-foot-one-inch stature. He had a very round face with a dusky-brown complexion. When he laughed, his chins, all three of them, shook in a funny, animated way. His bugged eyes watered and the thick, bristly mustache above his top lip twitched. Something wasn’t right.

  “You’re an idiot, Harrington,” Kip stated. “Your hand’s a loser.”

  Reece chuckled as he reached over and spread Hugo’s cards farther apart. “Yeah, man, you lost. And His Royal Highness over here only has three of a kind. He beat you with a royal bluff.”

  Roland still did not look down at the cards. He continued to stare at Hugo, who continued to laugh.

  “Oh, he won, alright. He won the best prize ever!” Hugo told Roland. “See this right here?”

  Hugo had reached into the money pot, sifting through the bills he’d thrown down. “This here, this little slip of paper, is a promissory note.”

  “What?” Kip asked. “You put up the money for the bet. Why add a promissory note in, too? Have you been drinking, old man?”

  Hugo shook his head, one tear running down his face as he continued to chuckle. “It’s fake. All of it is fake! Got it from some sailor a few months ago. Should have known the bastard was crooked from the start. Who the hell would pay all that money for one of Val’s pictures? Just ridiculous!”

  “You tryin’ to cheat us old man?” Re
ece asked. “We play an honorable game here.”

  Now Hugo was standing and nodding. “I know. I know. The prince, especially, is honest and loyal. All of the DeSaunters are. Ain’t that correct?” he asked with another nod.

  Roland was feeling uneasy now. Actually, he was quite irritated.

  “I got your winnings, though,” Hugo told him. “I got the payment you deserve. Don’t you worry. Come on, follow me.”

  Reece and Kip looked at Roland questioningly. Roland didn’t hesitate, but stood and followed the old man down a short hall.

  “I wouldn’t cheat you, Your Highness. No, not at all. I’m an honorable man, too. Just like my daddy before me and his before him. We’ve been on Grand Serenity since the beginning and we do what’s right. We keep our word,” Hugo told him. “Unlike others.”

  Hugo said the last word as he turned the knob on a door at the end of the hallway.

  “Your prize, Prince Roland,” Hugo said, and motioned for Roland to enter.

  The scream that greeted Roland before he could even take a step was ear shattering. The curses that followed were fluent and angry.

  The half-dressed woman spouting the saucy words was...for lack of a better word...impressive.

  * * *

  Why had she let her father borrow her car? Why had she agreed to stay at his house tonight while he went out on yet another crazy chase for fortune and fame? Why, oh why, was this her life?

  Valora “Val” Harrington had asked herself these questions over and over as she reached for her bag and began to change out of the uniform she wore while working as a tour guide at the Serenade Museum. She’d worked there for the last three years in lieu of pursuing her dream to become an artist. But that was only partially true. Val was an artist. Her paintings were far better than a good number of the ones hanging in the museum. The only things she was missing were an agent and high-paying clients clamoring over them.

  She’d settled for the job at the museum because it was the closest thing she had to the life she really wanted. Grand Serenity was her home. She’d been born there and had never entertained the thought of leaving the beautiful island. She could paint in the evenings in the comfort of her home, but during the day she shared the history and the artifacts of her heritage. It was a complete picture, even if deep down she wished for something more.

  On the other hand, her father, Hugo Harrington, was a totally different subject, one Val had been struggling with her entire life. Her mother had died in childbirth. Val was Hugo’s only child. His only daughter. That hadn’t been Hugo’s plan. He’d wanted sons to carry on the Harrington name, to stand next to the royal family in the place he’d always thought was owed him thanks to his father’s contributions to the battle that put the DeSaunters family in the palace.

  It was an old story, one that Hugo had told Val over and over while Val was growing up. It was also the reason Hugo drank and gambled more than he had ever worked to support Val. It was a good thing Val had been a cute child and that one of the women her father had fallen into bed with had worked for a beauty pageant. From the time Val was six years old until her sixteenth birthday, she and her father had lived comfortably on her winnings from being a participant in one pageant after another.

  But by the time she was sixteen, Val was done. She had refused to do another pageant. That was nine years ago. Her father had continued to drink, curse, gamble and guilt-trip her ever since.

  Now, he was smiling as Val held a pillow over her chest and glared at him and the man that he’d just escorted into the room. The man who was the prince of this beautiful island she called home.

  “What are you doing? I thought you were going to be out tonight. Why are you...why is he...what are you doing?” she exclaimed. Hugo, who looked as proud as a peacock, dressed in an appropriately colorful shirt and ragged black jeans, grinned.

  “Here’s your winnings,” Hugo replied clapping his beefy hand onto the prince’s shoulder. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? I mean, really she is. Got all the pageant prizes to say so. Now, I know what you’re thinking...”

  To Val’s complete mortification, her father continued to talk, his words oddly clear even though she could smell the liquor oozing from his pores from across the room.

  “Sure, she was promised to Prince Kristian. But he’s all married up now to that American. So there’s no harm, no foul here. You can have her and this’ll settle our debt,” Hugo announced with another smile.

  “Dad!” Val yelled. “Are you crazy?”

  He ignored her, something he’d been doing for most of her life. Despite sharing his DNA, Val never really felt like his daughter. More often than not, she was his commodity.

  “Get out! I want both of you to get out!” she screamed.

  The window behind her was open and a warm breeze blew in, reminding her that she only wore her work pants, shoes and a bra. The pillow in front of her was certainly large enough to keep her covered, but still, she was standing there in her bra. She was so angry her hands were beginning to shake and she thought for one instant that she might actually lose her grip on the pillow and then...what? She would be flashing the prince of Grand Serenity. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, she was wearing her old cotton bra with the broken snap in the back. Yeah, this was the perfect Friday night scenario.

  “I apologize, ma’am,” the prince said before giving her a slight bow and then turning to her father. “I’ll speak to you outside, Harrington.”

  The prince walked out of the room but her father stayed. “Put some clothes on and come out to meet the prince. You’re embarrassing me,” he said in what was supposed to be a whisper, but Val was certain everyone in the vicinity could hear his drunken words.

  She made a sound that was animalistic, which was all that she could muster. She was so freakin’ angry. She was embarrassed as hell, too, but the anger was really trying to take over.

  The minute that door closed, Val grabbed her work shirt and shoved her arms back through the openings. She buttoned it hastily and grabbed her purse and bag. When she opened that door minutes later it was, thankfully, to an empty hallway. Her feet couldn’t seem to carry her outside fast enough. A short way down the street she saw her car and hustled to it as quickly as she could. She stopped at the driver’s-side door and cursed again when she remembered her father had her car keys.

  “I can drive you home.”

  No, no, no, she chanted silently without turning around.

  “Your father can’t find your keys. He’s looking, but I doubt he’ll be successful. At least, not until he’s a bit more sober.”

  Realizing that it was rude to keep her back turned to a member of the royal family, Val turned slowly. She looked up into soft brown eyes and sighed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to him. “I’m sure this is not how you expected to spend your Friday night.”

  Roland DeSaunters was known for the gambling, partying and womanizing that had earned him the Reckless Royal title. Standing on the street offering a ride to a museum worker had to be a far stretch from entertainment to him.

  “I can walk home,” she told him.

  “No. You cannot,” he replied. His gaze had gone down to her chest and back up to her face.

  A quick glance down showed that she’d buttoned her shirt wrong, so that the material was now lopsided with a gap that proudly displayed a good swatch of her sensible white bra.

  Groaning, Val turned away from him. “I can. I will. And I’ll be fine. Thank you and good night, Your Highness.”

  His hand on her arm was a shock—first, because he was the prince and all that royal business. But second, because the quick jolt of heat that had moved from her wrist up to her arm quickly spread across her chest.

  “I cannot let you walk home at this time of night,” he said when he came around to once again stand in front of
her. “My car is just up the hill. I’ll carry your bag while we walk and then I’ll take you home.”

  When Val opened her mouth to speak, he simply shook his head.

  “Do you really want to add to your father’s embarrassing circumstances by refusing the prince?”

  She did not. So Val clamped her lips shut and let him slide the bag from her shoulder. She folded her arms and walked beside him, hating every mortifying step she had to take because of her father.

  Copyright © 2017 by Artist Arthur

  ISBN-13: 9781488013720

  Playing with Temptation

  Copyright © 2017 by Roxanne Ravenel

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