A Deal With the Devil (4 page)

His offices were two minutes’ walk away from her assigned workplace—easy to access if needed; maybe he kept the pass codes to the fight club chat rooms in there. Somehow she needed to get in and search.

He didn’t have a girlfriend or a wife—otherwise why would he have asked her to play concubine?

His mother was dead and he was still affected by it, but was trying hard not to be. He was indomitable and powerful and yet there was something else there, a side of him he didn’t want anyone to see. The flicker of pain in his eyes, the swift change of subject, a refusal to show weakness when there was just cause to. God knew, she’d lost her mother too and there wasn’t a day that went by without Kate missing her.

That, right there … that pain, his pain, knowing that a man like Rey could
feel
acutely had been the moment she’d realised she’d underestimated him. He was more rounded, more
human
, less monster, and seemed to be having a strange effect on her perspective. She needed to pull herself together.

Forty-five minutes later the lift doors swooshed open and she walked into the VIP lounge. From this distance she could see Rey standing near the bar, deep in conversation with the six guests making up the Macau group. He seemed relaxed, laughing generously at something one of the businessmen said, nodding gently and politely to the woman at his side. Rey had changed too; he was now wearing a black dinner suit and black tie that made him look even more intoxicating. He turned, his eyebrows rising as he caught her in his sights. Then rising further as he took her in. Head to foot.

Good. He liked her choice. Damn right he would, considering the cost. With a fixed smile plastered on her lips she waited until he’d excused himself and walked towards her. She offered him her cheek as she imagined he’d expect. “Rey.”

“Kate.” Lips grazed her skin and an exotic scent of spice and male wove around her. She felt almost compelled to reach for him. He was too close. He was too … there. Reachable. Touchable. He pulled away. “Red suits you. Perfect choice.”

“I’m glad you think so.” She’d chosen a stunning claret knee-length silk dress with a mandarin-style collar, had hastily shoved her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head and scrubbed off much of the make-up. She had slipped her feet into a pair of exquisite high-heeled black pumps in a soft, soft leather, and they’d been so surprisingly comfortable and yet so beautiful she’d been unable to take them off. She felt chic but not overdone. So much more like her real self. He gave her a slow wink that gave her confidence and spoke of a shared deception. And her traitorous gut tightened at the prospect.

“Now come, meet our guests.” His breath whispered over her neck. “By the way, we met at a polo match.”

“What the …? Ahem … Wait a moment,
darling
 …” She came to an abrupt halt, smiled over to the waiting guests, pretended to fix his tie and spoke in a low hiss, “I have no freaking clue about horses, why on earth …? Of all things to choose? Why not a bar? A nightclub? Through mutual friends …?
Polo
?” But then it was no more ridiculous than her claiming to be a nurse. This whole evening was becoming surreal.

His eyes glinted with amusement. “I was thinking on the hop. It must have been the
Pretty Woman
reference.”

“You’ve watched the movie? You? Julia Roberts? Richard Gere?” she whispered, unable to imagine a man like Rey watching a chick flick.

He raised a finger to the waiting guests and shrugged apologetically, making a game out of her fussing over his tie. Amusing domestic bliss. “I endured some of it a long time ago, not out of choice. Now, go with it. Brush it off if they ask you about it. Change the subject? You’re good at doing that.”

He’d noticed? “I don’t like to bring personal things to work. So forgive me for being professional.”

“If that’s what you want to call it. And we’ve been together a year.” Rey’s smile was beautiful and filled with such faux adoration even she was almost convinced of his love for her as he tilted her chin to look up at him. But his eyes were steel and that brought her swiftly back to reality. “I haven’t proposed, but I’m going to, soon. I’m planning a surprise and a very large diamond. They’re in on the secret now, and seem to enjoy the collusion.”

“How very sweet.” Deception at every turn. She swept a hand over his jacket lapels to finish off the pseudo-intimate gesture. Big mistake. Underneath her fingertips she could feel hard taut muscle. A steady beating heart. Heat.

He was real, this man. Real, and powerful, and playing a dangerous game. A responding heat shimmied through her, curling up to her cheeks, through her gut, lower to her core, filling her with a shock of desire.

She almost turned and ran right then. Her body could not want him with such force. She could not want this man. But she was playing a game too, and she needed to win. She needed to stay.

“They think it’s sweet and that’s all that matters. The man dressed in the brown suit is the one we want to charm the most. The lady in blue is his wife. Let’s go,
darling
.” His accent had that hint of East London to it, but his voice was smooth and dark and her gut turned over at the sound of it.

Then his hand closed in on her back, warm and firm as he steered her towards the waiting group. Breath left her lungs at the electric touch on her skin, at the way her body responded in a wave of sensations. And she wondered, just for a moment, how it would feel to be loved by a man like Rey. How it would feel to love him in return. Would that even be possible? Would he give anything of himself? Her journalistic brain processed the notion and dismissed it. He was a Neanderthal. A brute.

But an overwhelmingly seductive one at that. “Ladies and gentlemen, can I introduce Kate?”

He gave her all their names one by one and she nodded and bobbed a discreet bow to them all. As completely ignorant of Chinese etiquette as she was, she knew that demure and gentle was the best way to proceed in any situation, so that’s exactly what she did. Smiling at all the right people, laughing softly in all the right places. It did occur to her that she was in a powerful position here. She knew his sordid fight club secret and with one word could have damaged his reputation there and then, but she held her tongue. She needed proof before she exposed him, something unimpeachable. She hadn’t got that yet. A word from her now might cause a kerfuffle, but with real hard evidence it would be explosive.
Slow and steady…

“Miss Kate, when is your birthday?” Mr Chin’s English was impeccable. Having spent two hours and a whole lot of money she could only dream of on Blackjack he was now leaning over a roulette table choosing a number … crap, what had she heard about Chinese lucky numbers …? Six? Seven? No …

Outwardly she maintained calm, gave him a smile and nodded to the table. “Eighth of August.”

The hostess called for last bets as Mr Chin slid five thousand-pound chips onto the black eight. A freaking fortune! His hand patted hers. “Ah, a very lucky lady, indeed.”

It was a game of chance, so luck really was the only thing that came into it, certainly not strategy or skill … so pretending her birthday was on a propitious date couldn’t really matter, could it? But that was a heck of a lot of money to lose on a lie—enough for Jake’s tuition and some left over, enough to pay the rent for a while without worry. She gave him another smile. “Good luck, Mr Chin.”

Kate held her breath, gripping her champagne flute tightly, as the little silver ball rotated frantically at first, then more slowly round the roulette wheel. Even though she had no influence whatsoever on where the ball would land, she found herself willing the black eight to be winner. Round and round and round. Her heart thundered against her chest. Round again, so slowly now … “Come on, come on. Yes! Yes! You won!”

Scooping his winning chips Mr Chin looked at her as if she’d gone slightly mad, but nevertheless was very entertained. “Very good, Miss Kate. Do you play the tables a lot?”

“No, not really.” Try never! She could hardly let on, and she’d never known how much fun it could be—spending someone else’s money, of course. She didn’t have enough of her own to fritter away on gambling. If she was going to make her fortune in journalism it had to be on high-profile cases like this where publishers would pay dearly for dirt.

As she looked across the table she caught Rey’s eye. He’d been watching her, scrutinising her reactions and responses. Now he looked at quizzically, the ghost of a smile on his lips. For a second he held her gaze and something fizzed between them. Something hot and almost tangible. She tore her eyes away from him as more heat suffused her cheeks. “Actually, Mr Chin, I don’t spend a lot of time here. We usually go out. I like to drag Rey away from work as much as possible. I like to dance, so I make him leave all this behind and come with me. I’m a bad influence, I’m afraid.”

“That is too bad.” Mr Chin replied with an avuncular smile, “You are a lucky charm to any man.”

Rey Doyle may not think so, in time. “Thank you for your kind words.”

“And I’m pleased to hear he has other things to achieve balance in his life, other interests. You make a well-matched couple.”

“Yes, we think so.” Score one for Rey then. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. If she made a good impression on his behalf he’d be one step closer to achieving his deal. Still, that may well give her more opportunity to get even closer to him, find out those weaknesses. “It’s important, don’t you think, Mr Chin, to get away from business sometimes? Spend time at home?”

“Family is important.”

“Indeed it is.” And that was absolutely genuine. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her brother. Including pretending to be someone else entirely, in a dress that only a celebrity could afford, talking to one of the most influential men in the casino world. One of the richest men in the whole damned world. But none of that mattered to her, just Jake and the promises she’d made. “Family is the most important thing, and sometimes you don’t realise until too late …” And there, she’d said too much.

Chin regarded her for a moment. “You have lost someone important?”

“Yes, yes, my mother died a few years ago.” Kate had let her down, failed her mum’s last wish.
Keep Jake safe
, she’d begged …

“My condolences.”

“Thank you. As I said, it was a long time ago.”

“But we never forget. I am sorry that I have made you sad. Let me talk about something happy. Mr Doyle said you met at a polo game, do you play? Do you ride? I hear it is very pleasurable to ride through Hyde Park?”

Help!
God, she wished Rey was standing here just to hear this. They needed to coordinate stories. And she needed to erase any sadness from her eyes. She had the feeling that showing emotion would be seen as a sign of weakness. “Unfortunately … we don’t have a lot of spare time to ride.”

“Well, I think that the next year or so will be a turning point for you. A family of your own perhaps?” Chin looked from her to Rey and seemed very pleased with himself. A wedding hint?

Geez … and now she’d have to gush about marrying Rey. “That is something I would love to have. Obviously we’ve talked about it and I know he would love a family too … I’m just hoping I’m the right woman for him. He’s an … exceptional man.”

As if she’d just conjured him up Rey arrived from the other side of the table. “Good win, Mr Chin. Well done.”

Chin nodded to Rey. “Your lucky charm is helping me out. You must let me borrow her when I need some more luck.”

Rey’s hand was on hers now, his grip a little more intense than before and something almost predatory in his face. She could feel the energy radiate from him, restrained and controlled, but, she wondered—for how long? “I generally keep her all to myself. But I will let her help with another game. Money Wheel?”

Chin nodded. “Ah yes. Is it allowed that Kate can start the wheel?”

“If you think that is fair then we can arrange it. Kate, darling …” Rey turned to her. “Mr Chin would like you to spin the Money Wheel for him.”

“Certainly.” With another bob of her head she walked with Rey to the Money Wheel table. Then she whispered under her breath, “Help me out here? I’m a waitress, that’s all.”

“You’re doing very well,” he muttered from the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you.” A hiss. “You owe me, big time.”

“Three pulls.” He made a play of curling a rogue lock of hair behind her ear and growled, “Tug it strong, but not too forcefully.” Then his eyes locked with hers, dark and intense, and the room seemed to fuzz around her peripheral vision. “Just how I like it. For future reference.”

She bit back a laugh and a dirty retort. “Whatever you say.”

“Really?” The growl deepened. “Anything?”

But then her peripheral vision sharpened, like her senses. She had no business flirting with Mr Fight Club, no business at all. “In your dreams.”

“Maybe. But I think the reality would be much more entertaining.” He raised his voice, took control. “Last call for bets.”

“What number would you pick, Miss Kate?” Mr Chin’s eyebrows rose. Kate looked at the table—there were only a few numbers on there: one, five, ten and twenty. No number eight.

“Oh, er … I’d choose five—but please, don’t pick that on my account.” She might have been lucky once, but that had been pure fluke.

“Come on. Ready?” Rey stood directly behind her and placed her hand near the top of the brightly coloured wheel, which had been painted into numerous segments. She could feel his heat, his strength, emanating from his body and had to close her eyes for a second to steady herself. All concern for Mr Chin evaporated, her senses honing in on Rey’s scent, his presence, so overpowering, so dominant. So dangerous. She felt strangely excited, nervous, brittle somehow.

Rey’s voice was cracked and laced with heat. “No more bets. Now pull down, that’s right.”

Kate pulled the wheel three times; the first time it felt heavy and spun slowly, so she pulled harder. The wheel spun a little faster. Keeping an eye on the board she saw that Mr Chin had placed all his chips on the five. She gave the wheel a final hefty pull, all the time aware of Rey’s heated gaze searing a hole in her back. The arrow landed on number ten.