Knaves (4 page)

Valmont saw him off with a negligent flick of his wrist.

“La Lupa!” Sebastian exclaimed. “I knew I’d seen you before! Bloody hell! I never thought I’d get the chance to meet you.”

This caused Jeanne Duval to glare at him for a second, but Valmont was more surprised to see that Eloise regarded the handsome Englishman with a frank
expression of interest that she never displayed—unless it was with his permission.

“
Madame Bissette,” Jeanne asked, a certain iciness in her voice now, her words clipped and precise. “I seem to be in a state of some ignorance. What were the films you appeared in?”

It was Valmont who answered.
“I believe that when we met, you were in Cannes to promote… now, what was it?
Les Voleurs de l’Âne Perdu 3
, ah, yes, that was the one.”

Sebastian clapped his hands together once
again, apparently completely oblivious that hell was freezing over beside him. “I remember that one. Yes! Incredible, the stuff you could do.” He winked at Eloise and flashed that bright smile at her again.

“
Raiders of the Lost Ass 3
,” Jeanne translated, her voice dropping a degree in temperature with each word. “I hadn’t realised there was a trilogy, and I’m so sorry to have missed examples of your
œuvre
, Madame Bissette. I assume that Spielberg missed the chance to direct that particular masterpiece.”

Valmont laughed, indulging himself in a moment of rare, undiluted pleasure. He could feel Eloise prickling beside him and was a little bemused, but also entertained, that for once she appeared to be discomforted by his revelation of her former career.
“He was unavailable that day,” he remarked, “though I believe that everyone involved made a good deal of money, isn’t that true, Eloise?”

“
I was a big fan of your work,” Sebastian added, apparently oblivious to the fact that both women were glaring at each other now. Looks were not seeking merely to kill now, but also to disembowel and eviscerate in the most painful manner. Valmont felt a delicious thrill at the thought of how these two would behave if left alone.

“
Was?” asked Eloise, attempting to reassert her equipoise.

Sebastian looked slightly bashful, his dimple reappearing as he smiled and dipped his eyes almost shyly.
“Well, I’m sure you know how it is. A chap has obligations, and all that.” His eyes flickered towards Jeanne and, encountering hostility there, slid puppy-like towards Eloise.

“
I understand entirely,” Eloise observed.

For a moment there was silence and, taking that as a cue, the dealer began to pass cards around the table to the three men remaining.

“What are the stakes?” Sebastian asked, immediately forgetting any tension. “Shall we keep it small to begin with? Five thousand?” The lawyer looked concerned at this and, when Valmont nodded, it was his turn to blanche.

As the dealer repeated the stakes, Jeanne was clearly not finished with the previous conversation.
“An… unusual companion, if I may say so, for a Marquis.”

Ignoring the sudden rudeness of the comment because he comprehended entirely it
’s source, Valmont shrugged. “I am a man of unusual tastes, Madame Duval.”

“
I’ll say,” snorted Sebastian. He glanced sheepishly towards Jeanne and then, almost too quickly for even Valmont to notice, his eyes became keen as they turned to the cards before him. After that, casually—almost too casually—he looked towards Eloise once more and smiled. Valmont had noticed that look once or twice previously: from anyone else, it would have been nothing noteworthy, but in contrast to the Englishman’s usual demeanour it stood out like a blazing star on Sebastian’s face. It was time, the Marquis decided, for them to continue the conversation alone.

Without even looking at his hand, he announced blithely:
“Why don’t we get down to business, Monsieur Rider? As the banker, I say we raise the stakes. Is fifty thousand agreeable?”

Only the dealer maintained enough professionalism to remain completely placid. Jeanne Duval was visibly shocked, though she mastered her concern quickly enough, while Sebastian
worked hard to prevent himself from gulping. Even Eloise shifted in her seat. The lawyer looked as though he was about to faint, recovering only to quickly excuse himself. Now there were only four, plus the dealer, at the table.

Between them was a mountain of chips, glistening and hard against the green baize of the table as Sebastian matched Valmont
’s bet. There was a faint glow of perspiration on the Englishman’s brow and Valmont was sure that the diminished pile left in front of him would not be so easily replenished. As the dealer began to present another card, the Marquis let it be known that his cards were sufficient. Without even glancing at his hand, he was sure what the result would be.

Taking another card, Sebastian laid his out. The six of clubs, the knave of hearts, and a three of spades.

“Neuf points,” announced the dealer, her broad pallet next to her hands, ready to sweep up the cards once Valmont had revealed his hand. Slowly, he turned over the cards. A five of diamonds and the queen of hearts.

“
Cinq points,” was the steady declaration.

“
Congratulations, Monsieur Rider,” Valmont declared. Before the dealer could pull all the cards towards her, however, he lifted the queen between his fingers and stared at it for a second.

“
Always my favourite card,” he mused. “Such a pity it counts for nothing in Baccarat—but isn’t that always the way. The queen is always treacherous, nearly as much as the knave though you did not trust him this evening.”

“
No, I didn’t,” said Sebastian, very quietly. Then, shaking his head, he smiled again. There—it was evident once more to Valmont’s searching eyes: that look of piercing intelligence. What was going on here? As he slowly moved his gaze from Sebastian’s face to Jeanne’s the Marquis felt himself stiffening once more. No one else was speaking, as though a collective breath had been caught around the table. Blood surged through Valmont’s veins as he sensed his complete mastery.

“
Of course,” he mused, “we could play for entirely different stakes, couldn’t we, Monsieur Rider. I intimated as much last night.”

Now Sebastian couldn
’t control how his throat moved when he swallowed. “Indeed you did,” he replied.

“
What was it that you intimated, Marquis de Valmont?” asked Jeanne, her eyes moving between Valmont and Eloise as though the latter would ever reveal her master’s plans.

Valmont smiled broadly, his Saturnine features masking for the moment his devilish intent.
“Monsieur Rider and I were idly discussing how very different stakes could be arranged. Not here, of course.” He nodded towards the dealer. “The house would never tolerate it—well, not unless I ensured they received a substantial cut. But I was thinking…” He let the queen drop to the table and pressed his fingertips before his lips as though musing.

“
Don’t you find it strange,” he said to nobody in particular, “how we would say that someone is willing to lose their shirt? Why, there were times when whole estates would be won and lost at a table like this, when the stakes were not mere cash but the most valuable things a man could possess.”

“
Such as?” Jeanne Duval was watching him intently now.

“
Houses, property… all kinds of honour,” he said, ignoring Sebastian and Eloise completely. “For example, it would amuse me greatly for a game where the stakes were, say… now let me see. If Monsieur Rider were to win, from me he would receive ten million Euros.”

“
And if he lost?”

Valmont paused.

“Then I would have a night with you, to pursue any passion that my appetites desired.”

For a few seconds Jeanne said nothing, her eyes glittering strangely. Then a look of disgust passed across her face but, Valmont noticed with interest, directed not at him but towards her companion.
“You knew about this?” she asked Sebastian, a little too calmly. He said nothing before nodding, barely perceptibly.

“
I see.” She maintained complete composure. Her smile was forced as she placed her hands on the table, lifting herself up. “Thank you Marquis,” she said ambiguously. “Madame Bissette.” Beside him, Valmont could almost feel Eloise gloating.

Before Jeanne could leave, Valmont reached out his hand towards her.
“Madame Duval,” he said, his voice suddenly full of a longing that surprised him. “I have offended you. Please, accept my apologies. It would be the least I could do to accept you as a guest—the both of you as guests—at my chateau outside Mazan.”

Again the slightly tight smile. Somewhere within her a conflict of passions was beginning to stir, and Valmont found himself extremely excited by the prospect of witnessing it
—as well as a sudden realisation that he would lose something if she were to leave now. She said nothing, however, but—visibly upset—nodded briefly and turned her head so that he wouldn’t be able to see her eyes. Without a word to Sebastian, she began to walk away quickly. Both men watched her slight figure as it receded from the table.

“
Well, I buggered that one up,” Sebastian muttered. Briskly he stood from the table, motioning for the dealer to collect his chips. “Marquis, Madame… I guess I should say goodbye.”

“
I prefer au revoir, Monsieur Rider.”

Sebastian said nothing in reply to this but instead left the casino.

Without turning to face Eloise, Valmont asked quietly in French: “What did you see?”

“
She isn’t as clever as she thinks she is. He’s smarter than he looks.”

Valmont pondered this before nodding.
“And do you think she’ll agree to my demands?”

Eloise shrugged.
“Hard to say.”

He paused again before turning to face the blonde, her face a mask once more.
“I want you to concentrate on him. I don’t think you’ll find him too difficult. Who knows, you may even find pleasure in it.”

The mask flickered for a second as Eloise caught his eye and a smirk appeared briefly on her lips.
“He will be… interesting, perhaps.”

“
Turn him, and she’ll be ready to fall. Then she’ll do whatever I want.”

“
Well,” said Eloise, standing and giving him a brief kiss on his head, “you’ll enjoy it at least.”

As she placed one elegant Christian Louboutin pump in front of the other, Karla controlled the rage in her heart. From an incandescent sun of fury, it cooled to an earthly ice age before descending to a hellish frost. It was no accident, she thought to herself as she retrieved her card pass from her bag, Hayden mooning behind her nonchalantly, that the lowest circle of Dante’s inferno was a plain of ice, in the centre of which the traitor Judas had his head stuck up Satan’s arse. Well, perhaps she was elaborating slightly, but at that precise moment she would have liked to have torn her companion a new asshole—starting preferably at his chest.

What did surprise her was how angry she was. She
’d been disgusted by the way that Hayden would no doubt claim it was Sebastian Rider who was ogling that French slut, but to her astonishment Karla realised that she cared more than she liked to admit. For all her education, both as a brilliant student of languages and then in the wiles taught to her by Uncle Coilin, she had always been the one in control, the one who always had the upper hand when it came to men. She’d need to get a grip on herself before she put Hayden in his place.

As she entered their apartment, her sense of anger increased. After their argument that morning, they had spent much of the day making love
—their bodies compressed into sometimes bizarre positions on nearly every item of furniture (though this time, it was to be noted, they
didn’t
break the bed). Making up had never been so sweet, and when she had fallen asleep in Hayden’s arms, listening pleasurably to his plans to scam the Marquis de Valmont, she’d felt blissfully happy.

Letting her bag fall behind the sofa, she froze at the sound behind her.

What the fuck? Was he... was he actually whistling?

Turning slowly, she saw that Hayden was preparing himself a drink, the glasses and decanter clinking on the bar, his back to her.

Invoking several of the more obscure saints she remembered from her childhood schooling, Karla vowed that the fate of Judas was far too good for this man.

“
Do you want a drink?” he asked casually.

Karla opened her mouth to speak. To her horror, all that came from between her lips was a muted, gargling noise. He turned and, seeing her expression, frowned, lifting his glass to sip the
golden whisky.

“
I don’t see why you’re so mad with me,” he said with a sigh. His eyes—those beautiful blue eyes—contained a mixture of concern and stubbornness. Two of his shirt buttons were open and standing there, so self-assured in the white silk jacket he had taken to wearing in his role as Sebastian, she was distracted for a moment by the dip where his throat met his glorious chest. Damn him! Everything about the man was perfect, except for the fact he could be such a conceited asshole. Karla opened her mouth again. Once more, nothing came out. Hold me, she wanted to cry out. Tell me you want me!

His next statement made her ashamed of her momentary weakness.

“I think that went rather well, considering. I mean, at least I won back half the money I lost.”

“
Won?” she asked incredulously. “
Won
? Hayden, he didn’t even look at his cards. He didn’t care!”

Raising an eyebrow as though she had caught onto a brilliant secret, he smirked and replied:
“I know. Fabulous isn’t it. Just think how stinkingly rich he is! We’re going to make a killing.”

“
And when were you going to get around to telling me about my part of the deal? You know, the bit where I walk into a Victorian novel and have two men gambling over my virtue?”

That made Hayden almost spit out a mouthful of his alcohol.
“That’s a bit strong, isn’t it? I mean, it’s not as though you’ve kept your virtue locked up all these years.”

He was insufferable! Walking over to him, she slapped him across the face. It wasn
’t the same kind of violent blow that she’d inflicted on him that morning, when her fury had overwhelmed her. This was the kind of slap that hurt her much more than him.

He rubbed his face and avoided her pained stare.
“I deserved that,” he said quietly.

“
Yes, you did.” She wanted a drink, but more than that she absolutely needed a cigarette. Another of her habits that she’d given up for him—not that he seemed to care.

“
Look,” he began to explain slowly. “I would have told you. We were... we were talking last night—he was the one who asked about you. He’d heard about you. Jesus, Karla! Everyone who sees you wants you—every man at least! Quite a few women, too, I suspect. He... he mentioned how it would be such a... decadent was the word he used—such a decadent thing to place a bet for a night with such a beautiful woman who was the talk of Monte Carlo.”

“
You’re lying!”

“
Okay, okay. I’m not exactly lying—I might just be a little... judicious with the truth. Don’t you see, Karla? This is such an opportunity! A game of cards and we walk away ten million richer!” He came forward and, somewhat tentatively, took hold of her hand. “We can’t lose.”

“
You lost last night,” she said sullenly.

He grimaced and rolled his eyes to the ceiling before looking at her pleadingly.
“I
meant
to lose. I won tonight, didn’t I?”

“
He let you win. There’s a difference. Don’t you see?”

“
Oh, come on! It’s a stupid game to him—he’s bored! Hell, what we’re doing—it’s not even criminal. Hmm... kind of takes the fun away when I put it like that.” Karla began to struggle to pull her hand away half-heartedly, but he tightened his grip. “We’ll be doing him a favour. A night’s excitement and then we’ll be off to somewhere bright and beautiful!”

“
A night where I might get more than I bargained for.”

Despite his attempts to maintain a façade of concern, he couldn
’t help but scoff at this. “I’m sure you’d enjoy it!” he sneered.

Now she did pull her hand away and this time he let it go. That hurt almost as much as the slap.

“What do you mean?” She was icy again.

“
Don’t play me for a fool.
J’ai bien l’honneur
,” he crowed mockingly. “You could barely take your eyes off him!”

“
What!” Again Karla’s mouth was opening and closing without intelligible sounds emerging. She wanted to scream now. Why on earth did she act this way around him? He told her not to play him for a fool, but somehow she was the one who always felt foolish.

“
Admit it. He’s quite a looker—fabulously rich, with all his titles and aristocratic snobbery. God! I bet he’s got so much grandeur up his backside that when he takes a dump a dukedom pops out. Go on, admit it. You fell for him.”

Once more, Karla performed the fish act as a painful realisation dawned on her. There was something wicked and decadent about Valmont
’s face—and also extremely handsome. He was not quite the muscle bound hunk that Hayden was, but his lean, athletic body spoke of a man who was vain enough to keep himself in the peak of physical perfection. And he did have centuries of entitlement behind him that, she knew, would be hard to resist even as his arrogance would repulse her. Once she would have sought him out, but that was before. In any case, Hayden’s cruel remark completely missed the point and reminded her why she was so angry.

“
I did
not
fall for him,” she said coldly. “I was observing him, casing him. Playing my role, if you remember.
You
were the one who couldn’t keep your mind on the job.”

“
What do you mean?” he asked suddenly defensive. Something inside Karla’s chest cracked.

“
You couldn’t keep your eyes off that... hussy!” she spat, swallowing back tears.

“
I barely noticed her,” he said, but now he couldn’t keep his eyes
on
Karla.

“
You liar!” she almost screamed. “If you drooled any more I was going to have to call a waiter over to bring you incontinence pants. It was... it was disgusting!”

“
You’re over-reacting,” he mumbled, turning away to return to the drinks cabinet. Karla was horrified. Part of her wanted to drop the subject, to pretend that none of this was happening, but an imp of perversity had taken up residence inside her soul. Retrieving her bag, she lifted out her phone and began to search on it. What she found sickened her, and she shoved the image on the screen into Hayden’s face when he turned around. He backed away in surprise.

“
Is that what you want?” she asked, tears forming in her eyes. “Is that really what you think what women are for?”

The pause was just a little too long.

“No!” he cried out, but it was too late. Before she could give full vent to her anger, however, Karla’s phone began to ring. It was her Uncle Coilin.

“
Karla,” Hayden began to say, placing his drink to one side and reaching out an arm towards her, as though only now realising just how upset she really was, but she waved him away dismissively.

“
Yes? Uncle? Yes—it’s me... No, I haven’t been abducted by a shape-changing alien with remarkable powers of mimicry... Are you drunk?... Oh, I see... Just because they’re free you don’t have to accept
every
beverage from the hostesses. And no—I don’t care how beautiful they are... I’m not really in the mood for this conversation right now, Uncle... Okay, okay, find a bar and sit tight. I’ll be with you in an hour—and Uncle?... I think hair of the dog’s meant to be the
next
day.”

She switched off her phone and glared at Hayden. He stared at her uncomprehendingly.
“What’s going on?” he asked at last as she lifted up her coat and stuffed her phone back into her bag.

“
It’s Uncle Coilin. He’s at Nice airport. He was meant to come here, but he seems to have incapacitated himself, so I’ll go and get him.”

“
Why... What the hell is he doing here?”

“
I asked him to come.” Karla’s matter-of-fact tone hid the fact that she felt her heart was breaking—all the more painful because she didn’t really understand why she was feeling this way. “When you were sleeping. I thought we could do with some more information on this Marquis so I asked him to fly over and help us.”

Hayden scowled at this.
“I had that covered.”

“
Oh, really? And when was that? In between losing a hundred thousand and ogling a whore?”

“
She’s not a whore! She just has some... very impressive capabilities that’s she’s not shy to demonstrate.”

Karla
’s chest surged in pain at this. “Oh, god, Hayden,” she said in a very small voice. Her eyes were hot and her heart hammered inside her. Why had she not realised he was like this? No, no, that was a stupid question. Why had she refused to let herself see that he was like this, that he had always been this selfish?

He seemed utterly oblivious of the crisis working its way through her.
“My brother, you know, the hotshot in the City. He’s been doing some digging around. That’s how I know how rich Valmont is!”

She shook her head and lowered her eyes so that he wouldn
’t see her tears, her anger now turning into bitterness. “I’m going,” she said, pushing past him. “I’ll find a room for Uncle and... I don’t know. Don’t wait up.”

As she was about to walk through the door, however, she stopped and turned back. He was standing there, dumbfounded, his broad shoulders slumped and his strong, handsome face revealing the traces of the boy who must have been so loved as a child. He was a bastard, but why oh why did he have to be so... beautiful with it?

“Hayden,” she said quietly. “You mocked my virtue—fuck it,
I
deserved that. God alone knows the things I’ve done with my life. But I want to ask you one question. Do you know how many men I’ve slept with, since I’ve met you?”

He opened his mouth, as though to make a wisecrack. This time it was his turn to say nothing.

“That’s right.” She felt her mouth compress into a hard, tight line. Then she turned to leave. “Don’t wait up, Hayden. We need to plan what we’re going to do with your Marquis in the morning.”