Vicious Seduction

3

Lina had an agenda. I’d bet my life on it. Her motive was probably as simple as finding someone to bankroll her lavish lifestyle, but that was still an agenda. I was glad. Someone so shallow would be easy to manipulate once I proved to her that I was just as powerful as her current conquest, with the added bonus of being able to get it up without a little blue pill. I couldn’t fathom how someone as young and attractive as her could come to the conclusion that Lawrence f*****g Wellington was her best option. The man was old enough to be her father. The situation reeked of Daddy issues. Her commitment to him, however, was surprisingly resolute. I didn’t miss the way she angled her body just slightly toward him—away from me —when she sat at the game table. I might have questioned my ability to succeed in my campaign to steal her had it not been for the tiny fluttering pulse point at the base of her neck. Lina played her part well, but a person could only do so much to combat physiology. And now that I knew how my attention affected her, I would wage a war of seduction until she was on her knees begging for my touch. Until she forgot Lawrence Wellington ever existed. OceanofPDF.com CHAPTER 3 LINA Tense didn’t begin to describe the atmosphere. For a solid hour, Lawrence and Oran stalked one another from either side of the card table. Neither stood from their chairs, but both were on the hunt. Watching them was fascinating. Especially Oran. Though I tried not to give him my attention, his motivations left me incredibly curious. Would he really give up his membership if he lost? Was this some sort of machismo way of earning his place in the club, or did he really have business he wanted to do with Lawrence? And if so, why would he want to work with a man who clearly didn’t think highly of him? It was baffling. Even more so was Oran’s impassive handling of it all. As though he were the one with nothing to lose, rather than Lawrence. And that was how Oran played his cards—boldly and without fear of consequence. He made such risky bets that Lawrence steadily acquired a majority of his chips. Soon, Lawrence had him by the jugular. Sensing the time was right, Lawrence upped the ante with everything he had. Oran had to decide whether to fold and survive to play another hand or to follow suit and put everything he had in the pot as well. Other members had abandoned their games to gather around our table. Whispers mimicked the current of electricity zipping through the now sweltering room. Each breath I took grew increasingly shallow, anticipation coiling my insides into a tight knot. Yet again, I couldn’t resist glancing at the mysterious man to my left as he decided his fate. I wondered if he wasn’t a little insane. He didn’t look remotely affected, as though oblivious to the fact that he’d slowly been milked clean of his chips and possibly his membership. Didn’t he care? Was he unaware of how hard it was to gain access to the club? The man didn’t have a hair out of place or the tiniest dot of perspiration on his brow. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said he was playing for quarters, not a priceless seat among the city’s most influential residents. He was either incredibly impressive or terrifyingly unstable. Maybe a little of both. “I suppose I can always find a new club to join,” Oran said in a lazy drawl, then slid his remaining chips into the center pile. Lawrence sucked in a swift breath as did many others, initiating a chorus of hushed whispers. “Gentlemen.” The dealer signaled for the two players to show their cards. A Cheshire grin spread wide across Lawrence’s face. He laid down two queens and three sevens—a full house. Again, the room around us buzzed with chatter. “Olympus was the wrong place for you anyway. You’ll be more comfortable somewhere else.” Oran grimaced and nodded. “You may have a point.” He set his five cards down in a stack and slowly spread them apart, revealing a perfect straight flush. Five cards in numeric order, all in the same suit. “But I’m gonna stick around, nonetheless.” He’d won. The bastard had done it. The room erupted in cries of shock and laughter. Lawrence shot to his feet, his face blistering red. “I will not tolerate a cheat,” he barked over my head to the man seated beside me. Feeling like the flimsy wire fence separating a ravenous lion from its dinner, I slowly scooted my chair back. Relaxed as ever, Oran pushed back from the table and casually crossed his legs. Remaining seated somehow conveyed a confident authority despite his lower ground, and he knew it. He was adept at navigating social situations, especially ones involving conflict. I wondered how often he found himself in this sort of face-off. “Like you said in the beginning, you haven’t truly lost. All I want is for you to hear me out, but if that’s really so repulsive…” He slyly cut his eyes to me. “You could always let me have Lina here instead.” His baritone voice thickened to a sultry cashmere that teased across my skin. When his words registered, however, my spine went ramrod straight. He’d caught me by surprise, so much so that I was speechless at his audacity and my shamefully weak initial reaction. “You’re out of line,” Lawrence hissed through clenched teeth. Oran raised a placating hand. “My apologies. Just thought I’d throw it out there as an alternative. You seem like a man who likes options.” Lawrence’s already thin lips pressed tightly together, making them nonexistent. “Meet me at 106 East 71st Street. Tomorrow, nine o’clock. I’ll give you ten minutes and not a second more.” He held his hand out to help me from my chair. “Come, Lina.” I stole one last glance at Oran from the corner of my eye. The smug bastard wore a smirk, his stare colliding with mine as though he’d known I’d look back at him. How infuriatingly arrogant. And the playful, amused glint in his gray gaze made me want to scream with frustration because it made him so damn beautiful.