The Mad British (4 page)

James glances at the other men when he notices their irritation with him slowing the game. With one look—one pretty lush look that I’ll never admit to melting under, not even under the pain of torture—the three of them retreat like they’re the Three Little Pigs and James is the Big Bad Wolf. When Fifer, Fiddler and Practical Pig leave the table, Wolf turns back to me, looking like he just ate a plate full of bacon sausages.

"But,” he adds, “I am willing to help you win it back." His wolfish smile is disconcerting. I’m not sure I want to win the money back now.

"If you want me to show you my 30B boobs," I start, squinting my eyes at him, "that is so not happening."

"While I appreciate the thought. . .” His gaze dips to my cleavage once again. I’m torn between thrusting his chips down that big cocky mouth of his, or ripping his shirt off so I can lick every dip and curve that I’m sure is waiting for me under there. I clear my throat with exaggeration and he finally looks up. “I’m not one to skip straight to dessert. I had something else in mind."

I sit back. "I'm not sure I even want to know." I fight the urge to smile like a schoolgirl with a big crush.

"All or nothing." He holds his hand up, motioning at his stack of chips. "You win, you get all of yours
and
mine, which is a little over. . . one thousand pounds."

"And if I lose?" I lift my chin. "I'm seriously not going to show you my boobs."

"I'm not going to pay you to show me your—" He pauses, stumbling over the word.

"Boobs," I offer. He looks embarrassed so I say it again.

"Adelaide—"

"What? Are you not a boob guy?" I laugh softly.

"I like them very much," he replies, refusing to say the word. "But I don't pay women to take their clothes off."

"You mean they just rip them off for you?"

It surprises me when he grunts, seeming to be annoyed by my response. "I didn’t mean it like that. Why do you always have to mis—?"

"Anyway, what's your wager?" I cut in. Yanking his chain is not as fun as taking his money. I eye his stack of chips. "I want to win my money back."

"You're very sure."

"Hey, don’t hate the player, remember? It’s not my fault I'm better at blackjack than you."

"Are you judging from your losses?" He nods in the direction of my measly two chips.

"Just tell me what it is.”

Why does he feel the need to draw every interaction out? I’ll win back my money, then leave. It feels like I’m hanging on a rope with James Hatter. These mixed feelings I have for him are giving me a headache. And now that I’m back on track, I know I can win.

"You lose and . . .” He stops to think.  "You come up to my room for one drink."

I snort. "A drink? Is that code for sex?"

“Miss Queen, you have a filthy mind. It’s code for: I will pour you a glass and we can chat. Alone. Get to know one another.”

I’m torn between losing on purpose, or winning my money back and walking away with my pride. I decide to go for the dramatics, hoping he will drop the offer entirely. "If you get me drunk I still won't show you my boobs."

"I don't want to see your damn—"

"What's wrong with my boobs?" I peer down at my chest and he laughs at me, but not in that you're-being-ridiculous kind of way. Instead, he seems to be endeared by my antics. "Seriously, my boobs—"

"Are perfect," he cuts in. I blush to the tips of my ears, and his eyes seem to scintillate without mercy. I drag my eyes away from the endless blue.

He’s humouring me, which should madden me, but he has been leering at my cleavage enough to know. And it’s hard not to feel weak-kneed when a man like James Hatter makes it blatantly clear that he is attracted to me.

I’m not sure why I feel so drawn to him. I have talked to him for all of thirty minutes—half of that time filled with urges to smack him—and yet I want nothing more than to go to his room for. . . a drink.

God help me.

I really could do with a double shot of vodka.

Maybe it’s the way his eyes soften when he looks in my direction. I've noticed the way he looks at all the other women in the room.

He doesn’t.

His eyes are murky and cast downwards whenever he passes them, making it obvious he has no desire to speak to them. Wonderland is crowded with beautiful women, but he only seems to want to talk to me.

How can I ignore that?

He is everything my dreams and nightmares are made from, and it’s hard to resist his pull. But it’s playing with fire. I should know. I’m still healing from the last burn.

I need to get away from him.

"I pay you a compliment and you—"

"Deal us in, please." I lean forward to study the cards on the table. "One thousand, huh? A drink with me is worth that much?"

"I'd pay more," he replies, his expression serious.

I take a deep breath and look down at my cards. If I’m on the right track, the dealer will hit him with another face card. The only question is: What does he have hidden beneath his other hand? I’m almost positive it isn’t a ten or higher, but I can never be quite sure.

Especially when James Hatter seems so sure he can win.

"Stop," he says, shaking his head with a half smile.

"I am not doing anything." I motion to stay, and I’m surprised when James does also.

"Moment of truth." He nods at the dealer to turn our cards over.

A second passes.

I squeal.

I never squeal.

I would have become a squealer a long time ago had I known how
great
it feels to squeal.

I sit back in my chair and grin when the dealer flips a queen of hearts over besides James' nine of clubs.

Victory.

Is.

Mine.

And judging from his head jerking back and his widening eyes, he honestly didn’t expect me to.

Moving to my feet, I lean in front of him. “You can look at my boobs all you want now, James.” I swipe all his chips away. For the first time this evening, I don’t have the inclination to shove his chips down his throat. Instead, I’m happy to shove them in my clutch bag.

"You just never know when the cards are going to turn," I mock, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of my eye.

"Beaten by the queen of hearts." His voice is gruff.

"Here's a tip." I lean in so close to his face that I think I just saw that elusive, perfect flaw flash across his eyes. "Maybe next time you should challenge someone who doesn’t count cards better than you."

“I WON’T SAY I told you so," Travis tells me so, coming over to the table and sliding into the seat that Adelaide had just wiped me clean in.

"Then don't." I tighten my grip on my short glass of whiskey. I’d sat down at the blackjack table expecting to play her. But she’d handed my arse back to me on a loser platter.

Sure, I’d been watching her count cards for the last forty-five minutes. Every man was too busy wanting to get laid with the hottest woman in the room, incapable of focusing on what cards were being played. Christ, they were fortunate if they could even add them up.

Outwitted gits.

And somehow I’ve managed to join the Outwitted Gits Club.

"Want a tissue?" Travis says, smacking me on the arm.

"Sod off." I hold the glass near my lips and sigh. The glass steams up and I swig the whiskey back, swirling the liquor round in my mouth and swallow it.

I watch as Adelaide saunters off, the poker chips she’s stolen tucked beneath the crook of her arm. My eyes linger on her back; her loose curls splayed over the skin of her shoulders. I’ve never wanted to touch a chick so badly in my life, especially one who’s managed to rattle my bones this badly.

She pauses long enough to grab a glass of champagne from a waiter's tray, lifts it in my direction, then continues her slow, but determined movement across the room. I’ll take it as a good sign she needs to put distance between us. Distance means she needs to stay away from the fire; that she’s burning just as much as I am.

I wait for her to acknowledge me. Surely she feels my eyes on her just as she did earlier in the evening. But I grow impatient when it becomes apparent she really is putting a great distance between us.

Wayne.

I still wait though. Her head bobs between crowds, her tiny frame disappearing between a group of men and women who are talking too loudly. And it’s only after several excruciating long minutes I realise she isn’t going to look back.

"Seriously, you gonna boil her rabbit?" Travis quips, shaking his head.

"Rabbit? What rabbit?" I flick my eyes to him, and it takes me a second to really process my question. "Wait. What’re you talking about?"

"Fatal Attraction," he replies. "Seriously, study your pop—"

"Why would I boil—" I stop mid-sentence, scoffing at his joke. It’s a waste of time to respond to Travis when he’s being like this.

"You're totally becoming Glen Close." I glance at the dealer and point at my friend, as if to say: Can you believe this guy?

An hour or so ago I thought the evening would have taken a turn for the better. I had wanted to steal the most intriguing woman in Wonderland away, and take her for a stroll down the River Thames so we could get to know one another better, to really see if these sparks between us could have a long-term connection. And anything that would happen after would’ve been solely up to her. I wasn’t planning on bringing out the big guns, but I wouldn’t have denied her if she wanted more.

There isn’t anything I would deny her.

"Go get me some chips." I pull a thick wad of money from my pocket, and extend my hand out to Travis. If I can’t have the night turn out the way I want, I’m going to sulk about it the best way I know how: Blowing lots of cash.

"I’m not your bitch." He smacks my hand away. "Get your own damn chips, lazy sod.” Adelaide’s comment about Travis being my dog makes me chuckle from deep within my chest. “What’re you laughing about?” He almost starts laughing with me.

"Get the bloody chips, Travis."

"Screw this." He snatches the money from my hand and flicks his thumb through it, counting. "It's always about you, Hatter." He pulls several large notes from the stack and backs away, waving the hundreds in my face. "Just so you know, I'm keeping these."

"You know where you can put them." I turn back to face the table, and take a sip of my drink, trying to keep my eyes from sweeping across the room. I know Travis will take his pretty little time getting the poker chips, probably hitting on every girl on his way there and back.

"This table open?"

I tip my head back and peer up at the short skinny fair-haired man in a tuxedo.

Wayne.

AKA Tosser.

I fight the urge to punch the grin off his face. He sits down before I have a chance to tell him to piss off. Turning toward the table, I immediately begin to stack my chips, glancing at the vacant space in front of me. I instantly dislike him and I’m heavily considering getting up and leaving him alone at the table.

"All out already?" he asks. "And the night is still young."

Yeah, I definitely disliked him. But what’s to stop me from stealing his money and not feeling bad about it?

"More chips are coming," I reply, shifting to pull money from my pocket. I toss a wad down on the felt in front of me. "I can assure you I'm good for it."

Wayne’s eyes widen and I nod for the dealer to start. "Still, it's awfully early to get wiped out." He’s desperate to put me down in some way. Prick.

"You're telling me." I slide my hands over the cards. I have a five of diamonds flipped up and a two of spades face down.

Total bollocks.

"I guess you can say I got played all too well," I tell him.

He scoffs. "A woman, huh?" He scoots the cards toward the dealer in a fold.

"Something like that." I have no desire for small talk. I only want to empty Wayne out and head back upstairs. Something tells me Adelaide Queen is a rarity and I just let her slip through my damn fingers. This night is done as far as I’m concerned.

"You mean there's not an easy one here?" Wayne glances around the room. I know he’s sizing up the girls in the same way that Travis does, but something about
him
doing it, is really arrogant. Like he expects these girls to sleep with him because he’s rich and has money to burn. Whereas Travis at least goes in knowing he barely has a chance.

"Who wants something that’s easy?" I lean back in my chair. Wayne stares at me and I figure he’s the kind of guy who needs easy.

I crane my neck, looking for my second-in-command. I can use Travis’ snide comments and so-called wit to shut this guy up. My eyes bounce from chick to chick, guessing that’s where Travis will be lurking. When I can’t locate him, I glance toward the bar, figuring he’s buying the most expensive bottle on my tab, but I’m surprised he isn’t there either.

But she is.

Sitting on the edge of a bar stool, her legs are crossed to reveal the silky skin of her legs. Bloody hell, she’s stunning. My desire to touch her, just once, is outweighed by my need to simply be near her. She looks bored as hell, a tight-lipped frown on her face, her chin propped up in her palm. I can think of plenty of things to do to her that will turn that frown right side up.

A girl like her shouldn’t be alone on Valentine’s Day. A girl like her should never have to frown. A girl like her shouldn’t be with a bell end like this knob either.

"Hey pal, you going to play or what?" Wayne asks, jabbing me in the shoulder. I snap back to him, my eyes blazing into his. He blinks several times and his eyes widen slightly in fear.

I. Don’t. Get. Jabbed.

Ever.

Glancing back toward the bar, I reconsider.

I’ll let her jab me anytime.

"I'm in." I don’t bother to glance at my cards.

Wayne mutters a nasty sounding reply, but I don’t hear it clearly. I’m almost thankful because it’s already taking everything I’ve got not to beat the stupid arse. It will be a hell of a lot simpler if Short-arse just handed over his chips and walked away. But no, he is so sure he’s going to win.

He clearly has no idea who he’s up against.

I call another bet, still too busy staring at Adelaide to pay much attention. Her eyes are not sparkling as they’d done before, they seem to droop, somewhat melancholy. Yet they’re still the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.

"Are you going to play—" I growl, turning back to the prick beside me. He quiets immediately. "Look, I can probably find you some hot chick to make you forget about whomever—"

"I don't need you to find me a chick." I can only imagine the kind of girls this man takes to bed. "You think—"

"Here's your bloody chips, tit face." Travis slides his arm between Wayne and me and dumps the chips in front, glancing at my opponent. "Huh, he’s not as pretty as she was, but hey, to each his own. I will still love you, bro."

"Watch it," I warn, holding my hand out for my change.

"
Whoa
there cowboy. The rest is tip." He steps back and holds his hands up.

I stiffen, rubbing my palm against my face. Dealing with Travis is like dealing with a diabetic five-year-old in a candy store. No matter the reasons for telling them no, they still don’t understand.

"Just get the hell away."

"You have fun with your new boy toy," Travis jokes, scooting off before I have the chance to even turn round.

"Never can find good hired help," Wayne says, forcing a smile at me.

He starts to make another crack, but I cut him off. "Let's just play some cards." I glance back at the bar, disappointed when I see Adelaide has gone.

"Good, I'm ready to take your money." He grins again.

I’m pretty sure my fist will punch it off his face soon.

"Yeah." I smack the table as I wait for the dealer to toss out our cards. Thankfully, Tosser picks up on my annoyance and sits back, his eyes on the table as we play the next several hands.

All of which I win.

I won’t lie. It feels good to wipe that complacent grin off his face. I continue to check the bar, expecting Adelaide to appear again. If she is as bored as she’d looked though, there’s a chance she’s left the building. And I’m definitely not going to hunt her down in London, because that will mean Travis is probably onto something with that Fatal Attraction crap he keeps spewing.

A few hands later and I don’t feel like playing any more. I’ve lost my drive and I’m close to going back upstairs to my room. I turn to Tosser, ready to tell him I’m bowing out, when I see Adelaide approaching the table.

Maybe Wayne was right.

The night is still young.

She slows down when she nears the table, her eyes darting from me to Tosser, unsure of what to do. Taking a deep breath, she glances at me one last time before sliding onto the seat next to Wayne. She clears her throat, attempting to garner some attention. Tosser tips his head toward her, and then looks back to his cards.

She chews her lip as if contemplating what to say, then hedges forward. "William, are you done yet? I need to talk. It’s important." Adelaide tightens the grip round her bag. Wayne doesn’t give a damn about what she’s saying. My teeth grind as the urge to punch him increases tenfold. "William," she repeats, stiffening when I look at her. "I said—are you done?"

He scowls, folding another hand, and gives me an apologetic look. He turns to her. "Baby, come on."

"Don't baby me." She sneaks a glance at me from the corner of her eye. She’s embarrassed that I’m watching them.

"I’m playing with the boys, sweetheart. I can’t just leave the game, can I? Remember I paid a lot of money for these charity tickets so you and I could come here tonight and have some fun. Why don’t you go and have another drink on my tab." He tosses a chip back and forth between his hands. “Buy whatever you like, sweetheart, and then we can leave and do something nice together.”

She looks pissed off, rightfully so, and shoots me another quick glance before replying, “Whatever. After you’re done here we need to talk.” She gets to her feet and smoothes one hand down the front of her dress, then moves it to the back of her neck and rubs it uncomfortably.

It really is taking all my strength to not smash this guy straight through the damn wall. He has a date, not just any date, but the most beautiful and funniest girl I’ve ever met. He’s been acting like he’s out to bang half the girls in the world. No, he expects half of those girls to sleep with him.

No wonder Adelaide spent the better half of the evening perusing the room all by her lonesome, only to end up flirting with me. She'd been bored and alone, her date far too clueless to realise what he has beside him.

She looks at me one last time, humiliated, then turns to hurry off.

"Chicks," he huffs, forcing a painful smile at me.

I grunt, bringing my glass to my lips and take a long drink. I glance round Wayne only to see Adelaide stalking across the room, her head hung low. I think about going after her, but figure her anger is probably off-the-charts right now, and she’ll only want to use me as a punch bag. Besides, if I can’t get a chance to be alone with her, I can always make her date miserable.

"You ready to get back to the game?" Wayne asks.

Yeah, I definitely want to take every penny I can from him. Too bad for him I’ll enjoy every second of it.

"She seems like a good catch," I remark.

"High maintenance, if you know what I mean." He stacks his chips, pats the table, and motions for the cards to be dealt.