Eleanor POV
He is completely outplaying me. He knows exactly what I am doing, and he is smug about it.
His dark eyes are practically dancing with amusement, making my child’s tricks look entirely amateur. His legs are crossed, his back is leaned against the sofa, and his palms are intertwined. He wears a very, very rare expression on his face.
Banks Wellington is grinning. No, smiling.
He is smiling so wide I am momentarily lost in the curve of his mouth and the brightness of his eyes. I never imagined winning a card game would bring such amusement from a man who can literally purchase and own everything he wants.
“Should we call it a night, Miss Eleanor?” he asks.
I narrow my eyes at him, causing his grin to widen even more. It does not even make sense.
But I notice something. His
