Wandering through the room, she tried to find people who would be of any use to her tonight.
Soon she spotted a familiar face: Eric Langford, the young and handsome CEO of a top publishing company.
Eric’s eyes lit up when he saw her. “Ms. Hart,” he greeted kindly, stepping closer. “It’s been quite a while since I last saw you.”
“The feeling’s mutual, Mr. Langford,” Emery answered as she shook his hand.
“Eric, please,” he amended with a pleasant smile. “And might I say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”
Emery felt the blush creep up on her cheeks. “Thank you, Eric. You’re too kind.”
“Kind, but honest,” he said easily, his eyes never leaving hers. “Would you care to dance?”
Her eyes flickered toward the corner of the room, where Darren was deep in talk but still very much aware of her. A part of her hesitated, but then she thought of his earlier order.
Behave.
Smiling, Emery put her hand in Eric’s. “I’d love to.”
As they moved onto the dance floor, Darren’s eyes darkened. His grip on his glass stiffened, the muscles in his jaw working overtime as he watched Eric spin her around and hold her waist.
When Eric leaned in to say something that made Emery laugh, Darren’s control snapped. He slammed his glass onto the nearest table, his voice low as his pupils turned red for a mere moment, surrounding him with his wicked aura.
“I will remove this hand myself!”
Darren stalked toward the dance floor, his every step drawing attention. The crowd parted instinctively, as if feeling the storm brewing in his wake.
Emery felt the shift before she saw him. The air thickened, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She turned just as Darren stopped a few feet away, his eyes fixed on Eric with an intensity that could break glass.
Eric, however, didn’t flinch. His charm never wavered as he stretched a hand toward Darren.
“Darren!” Eric greeted warmly, his voice smooth as silk. “It’s been too long.”
Darren’s jaw tightened, but he shook Eric’s hand with a strong grip, holding it a beat too long. “Eric,” he answered, his voice cold enough to frost over. “I didn’t realize you’d be here tonight.”
Eric smiled, unaffected. “Wouldn’t miss it. I heard you were going, and I’ve been meaning to catch up. Still remember our unfinished game?”
Darren’s brow raised slightly. “Blackjack?”
“Exactly.” Eric grinned, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “You left early last time. Thought tonight might be the right chance for a rematch.”
For a moment, Darren said nothing, the room holding its combined breath. Then his lips curled into a predatory smirk. “Why not? Let’s see if you’ve improved.”
The tension between the two men was obvious, electrifying the air around them. A murmur spread through the crowd as people started gravitating toward the gaming table, sensing the promise of a spectacle.
“Shall we?” Eric pointed toward a table at the far side of the room, already being prepared for their game.
Darren didn’t give Emery a glance as he followed Eric, his shoulders rigid and his stride measured. She paused, watching them, before Jenna appeared at her side.
“Go,” Jenna whispered, pushing her forward. “You can’t miss this.”
Reluctantly, Emery moved toward the table, her heart quickening with every step. By the time she arrived, Darren and Eric were seated, the leather chairs creaking slightly as they leaned back with casual ease.
The crowd pressed in, making a semi-circle around the table. The low hum of conversation was punctuated by the odd clink of glasses and rustle of fabric as people craned their necks for a better view.
Darren’s gaze flicked toward Emery, his face unreadable. “You.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”
“You’ll deal.” His tone left no room for debate.
Her fingers itched to protest, but the look in his eyes warned against it. Swallowing her pride, she moved to the dealer’s side of the table, her hands steady despite the roiling feelings beneath her composed exterior.
“A little wager to make things more… interesting,” Eric said, his voice smooth and dripping with calculated charm. “Whoever wins gets a private performance from the lovely Ms. Hart.”
The crowd erupted into murmurs, some gasping, others sharing amused glances. A few chuckles rippled through the group as they eyed Emery, curiosity and mischief in their faces.
Emery’s face burned, but she schooled her features, refusing to let her embarrassment show. She glanced at Darren, expecting an instant rebuttal. Surely he would shut this down. But instead, she saw his eyes narrow, his smirk deepening as he leaned back in his chair, radiating a calm that only made her more nervous.
“Interesting proposition,” Darren drawled, swirling the amber liquid in his drink. His eyes locked on Eric, though it was clear his mind was elsewhere—on her. “I’m game.”
Emery’s head dropped. “Excuse me?” she hissed, taking a step forward.
Darren finally turned his attention to her, his face unreadable but his eyes gleaming with something dangerously close to laughter. “What? Afraid I’ll lose?”
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “That’s not the point, Darren. I didn’t agree to this.”
Eric raised a placating hand, though the smirk on his lips showed his innocence. “It’s all in good fun, Ms. Hart. Besides, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the show more than anyone else here.”
The daring of the statement made her head spin, and she opened her mouth to protest further when Darren’s low chuckle cut her off.
“Relax, Emery,” Darren said, his voice soft but filled with steel. “It’s just a game. And I have no plan of losing.”
His confidence was annoying. But it was Eric’s grin, his smugness, that pushed her over the edge. She didn’t know what came over her—maybe it was the wine she’d sipped earlier, or maybe it was the sheer audacity of these guys treating her like a pawn in their game—but suddenly, the idea of playing along didn’t seem so terrible.
If Darren thought he could handle her, maybe it was time to tell him who he was dealing with.
Squaring her shoulders, Emery forced a slow, sly smile to her lips. “Fine,” she said, her voice steady despite the beating of her heart. “I’ll agree to this ridiculous wager.”
The crowd muttered louder, clearly pleased by the unexpected turn of events.
Darren’s smirk slipped for the briefest moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head, trying to understand her angle.
“But,” Emery added, holding up a finger, “only if both of you agree to the same terms. Winner gets the show—but if I win, both of you act for me.”
The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers, their joy hitting a fever pitch. Eric chuckled, looking truly amazed.
“Touché, Ms. Hart,” he said, nodding his agreement. “You have my word.”
All eyes turned to Darren. His face was unreadable, his jaw working quietly as he stared at her. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his hands on the table.
“Deal,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “But don’t get too comfortable. You won’t win.”
Emery didn’t reply, though her pulse quickened under the weight of his gaze. She picked up the deck of cards and began to shuffle, each flick of her fingers a measured resistance.
“Let’s begin,” she said, her voice steady.
Emery shuffled the cards, the smooth click of paper filling the silence. Her movements were deliberate, exact, each card gliding seamlessly into place.
She dealt the first hand, her eyes darting between the players. Darren’s face was a mask of indifference, but his fingers tapped lightly against the table—a telltale sign of his simmering anger.
Eric, in comparison, exuded calm certainty. He lifted his cards with one hand, the other sitting lightly on the edge of the table.
The game started, and the stakes quickly increased.
Darren’s voice cut through the whispers like a blade. “Hit.”
Emery slid a card his way, her moves smooth. Darren’s gaze didn’t stray from Eric, even as he flipped his card with a flick of his hand.
“Too bold, Darren,” Eric noticed, his tone teasing. “You’ve always been one to take risks.”
Darren leaned forward slightly, his grin razor-sharp. “And you’ve always underestimated them.”
The crowd murmured appreciatively, the tension rising with each round. Emery dealt the next hand, her hands quick and skilled.
Eric’s faith wavered slightly as the game continued. Darren’s moves were calculated, each one pushing Eric further into a hole.
“Stay,” Darren said, his tone final.
Emery glanced at Eric, whose jaw tightened imperceptibly. He paused before nodding. “Hit.”
The card slid toward him. His face stayed calm as he flipped it, but Emery caught the flicker of frustration in his eyes.
“Bust,” Darren said softly, his smile wolfish.
Eric leaned back, his facade cracking just enough to show his anger. “Lucky,” he mumbled, though his tone stayed light.
Darren laughed, the sound low and dangerous.
