Thirty-sixThe gauntlet had been thrown and Russell had no choice but to respond. The slur of Hector de Vile’s innuendo was too nasty to ignore.
A thousand dollars on a d’Oro wine at least making the first cut tonight—the preliminary tasting which would form the basis for the final selection for Saturday night.
And a gentleman’s handshake on it—no matter who won, the money would be donated to the Alycia Stockton Trust. That was the only way Russell would ever agree to it.
A deep unease gnawed at Aristide’s gut. De Vile was too cocky. He knew the man was a professional conman togged up in tails. Nevertheless, even for a robber baron he was too certain of a win.
And so Aristide found himself in the hotel’s back rooms, alive with staff moving hither and thither servicing the night’s prepar
