Risking It All: London Calling Book Three (5 page)

However, this was not a normal day.
 

Yesterday, he stopped by Natalie’s apartment to find she’d moved away. Anticipating the doorman might not remember him, he brought dark chocolate truffles liberally laced with rum as both a reminder and a bribe. The other man
did
recognize him, and clued Dominic into the fact that Natalie moved out the week prior.

He wouldn’t budge on where she’d gone, despite Dominic’s best efforts to cajole him. Perhaps the older man also remembered Dominic’s abrupt departure.
 

There was only one thing left for him to do. Back at the hotel, he had ordered dinner from room service then opened his laptop and set about digging. Less than two hours later, he had a much better idea what she’d been doing the last several months. He was disappointed but unsurprised to find her employed. What was a shock was that she had landed in one of the high-end private gaming clubs of London’s Mayfair district.
 

The liveried doorman held open the door, and Dominic strolled through with unconscious elegance. For the occasion, he’d donned a formal evening suit but left his collar open. Silver cufflinks with dark jade inlays provided the only color against unrelenting black and white. As was usual, both male and female eyes followed his movements into the club, unable or unwilling to resist his natural magnetism.
 

As was also usual, the admiring glances were entirely ignored by Dominic.

He scanned the gaming room, appreciating the dark wood paneling offset by intricately carved crown molding and tray ceilings painted the color of rich clotted cream. Roman style pillars dotted the room, presumably as support but also serving to unobtrusively divide the bar area from the gaming tables.

As he made his way across the room, he spotted at least a half dozen blackjack tables and slightly fewer poker games. One corner hosted a noisy group enjoying roulette. An American game, he thought, but it seemed the British upper class shared an appreciation for a simple board, a burled wood wheel, and the dance of a shiny white ball.
 

There were at least three tables of baccarat. A whisper of a smile upturned one corner of Dominic’s mouth. He turned to the bartender and ordered a double shot of Kentucky bourbon, neat. It helped to have a prop reminding him of who he really was.

He didn’t like the place. The men wore formal tuxedos or perfectly tailored Savile Row suits. And dear God, he’d never seen so many cravats in one room in his life.

Natalie was nowhere.

He tipped back the whisky, letting it burn a fiery trail down his throat. He glanced at the heavy crystal glass in his hand, cocking a brow.

Baccarat.

Never one to resist a sign, Dominic strolled to the nearest table hosting a game by the same name. At the dealer’s nod, he pulled out a chair upholstered in rich red velveteen. He settled between two older Asian men and pulled the two cards dealt to him close. He waited, watching as the other players slowly revealed their cards after first bending and folding the edges.

It was typical behavior for baccarat players. The game was based on chance, something Dom generally avoided. Players naturally upped the suspense and interest of the game by drawing out the process of revealing their hands. Social banter accompanied the ritual, which made the entire affair more satisfying than it really was.

Head lowered, he glanced up at the dealer. She was stunning, with dark red hair curling halfway down her back. A stray lock looped in front of her shoulder to frame her name tag.
 

Ruby.
How fitting.
 

Hazel eyes creased in the corners, clearly amused with life. Blank faced, Dominic assessed the card shoe on the periphery of his sight line.

Six decks. An easy count if this was a game where it mattered.

Suppressing the urge to sigh, he decided to avoid the blackjack tables. It wouldn’t be fair to the club, even though they would have no such qualms taking his money. But he wasn’t here to win. Not at cards, anyway.

Leaving his fate in the hands of Lady Luck was surprisingly easy. After several hands, he was up thousands of pounds, seemingly unable to lose. Dominic could hardly believe his fortune, especially since the money held no interest for him. The other players grumbled good-naturedly while the dealer kept her face free of expression.
 

He liked Ruby. A fellow American, she had an accent suggestive of the Midwest—maybe a little Southern. After winning yet another round, he slid over a high-value chip, caught her eye, and winked. The faintest smile tilted her bare lips before she looked away. The man beside him crossed a leg, shifting Dominic’s attention.
 

The table had gained four more players to bring the count to ten. Still more club members gathered behind and around them to watch. A statuesque brunette stood directly behind Dominic, resplendent in a beaded gown of a deep, dark gold. As he glanced around, she caught his eye and practically oozed sexual invitation. Ignoring the offer, he turned back to face the table.

Still no sign of Natalie.

As he had all evening, he turned over his cards with no hesitation or attempts to prolong the gesture. Two cards, both fours. A low, collective groan emerged from the players at his side. For the first time, he allowed a grin to escape. A woman to his left flushed a warm shade of pink. Another across the table cackled gleefully. Since joining the table an hour earlier, she provided the most entertainment. Of everyone else, he liked her best. She was irreverent, salty, and old enough to be his great-grandmother.

“Adele, what has you amused?” he drawled.

“You do, darlin’.” She effected a poor American accent. “You’re not fooling me. You know exactly what you’re doing every time you unleash that Southern charm.”
 

Dominic adopted an expression of innocence. “I have no idea what you’re referring to, but I’ll take the compliment.” A beat. “Darlin’.”
 

The younger woman was now bright red. Dominic deflected his attention to the dealer. “I believe I may know someone who works here.” She didn’t reply, just raised her brows in question. Before she could put him off, Dominic continued. “Her name is Natalie.” The croupier frowned, so he bit back the rest. He didn’t want to push, and it was a good thing if the club valued its employees’ privacy as much as its guests’.
 

As long as they weren’t hiding any darker motives. In his experience, places like this cloaked ugly addictions behind the guise of social elitism. Worry spiked in his gut along with suspicion. He’d left her vulnerable. A club like this might take advantage.

He flashed a smile. “As you probably know, I’m new to the club. I take it there are private rooms?”

The dealer paused from sliding cards out of the shoe. Her eyes darted to the left then met Dominic’s. She nodded her head once before resuming the game.
 

A gentleman approached the table and waited for the hand to end. Dominic scraped more winnings toward him, adding them to his growing stacks. His luck was uncanny this evening and it could cause him trouble. He slid more chips to the croupier before piling an absurd amount of high value chips to bet on a tie.
 

He heard a muffled gasp somewhere to his right. Everyone knew that betting on a tie was high risk and tremendously favored the house. He allowed himself a small smirk. It was a new experience for him to
try
to lose money.
 

“Sir.” It was the gentleman the dealer had signaled.
 

Dominic swiveled his head to look up. The other man had the appearance of well-dressed security. Glancing down, he noted the shoes. Black Italian leather, likely hand sewn. Slightly scuffed.

Good taste, but definitely security.

He looked back at his hand, a ten of hearts and nine of clubs. It was the best hand in baccarat, what was called a
natural nine
. If he’d gone with his instincts and bet on himself, he’d have won thousands of pounds. Of course that depended on the banker’s hand, which showed a king of diamonds beside a three of hearts. Nothing could beat him, and the dealer could only draw a six to tie.

Dom prepared to lose a filthy amount of cash.
 

Steadily, he met the croupier’s eyes as she pulled her card from the shoe. Dumbly, he stared at the card she flipped over.

Six of spades.

He glimpsed a rueful smile before she wiped her expression clean. The odds paid nine to one on a tie win. There was barely room for all his chips.

The gentleman cleared his throat. “Sir,” he repeated.
 

Enough was enough. Dominic tapped the table, indicating he was finished. With both arms, Ruby leaned forward to gather the chips and cash him out. He turned in his seat to face the man from security. “Yes?”

“Is there anything I can provide for you? Dinner?”

He pocketed the voucher the dealer held out for his winnings. She’d tucked a card beneath the paper, but Dominic kept his face blank and stood. “Actually, that would be wonderful. Perhaps you could arrange for Natalie Enfeld to join me?” He murmured the request, careful to keep his voice low. The man looked slightly taken aback. Dominic took advantage of his surprise by delving further. “She is here tonight, I presume?”

“I’ll see what I can do, sir.” His words were noncommittal, but Dominic caught the slight nod of his head. It told him what he needed to know.

“Excellent. Please lead the way.” He followed the security officer back toward the restaurant. They passed a breathtaking curved staircase in walnut, all intricately hand carved. Dominic guessed it to be from the early 1800s. The workmanship was positively stunning. A woman, formally dressed but obviously part of the casino staff, escorted a man upstairs. As they reached the top, she lightly touched the man’s arm, leading him away. Dom’s eyes narrowed. The dealer had essentially refused to answer his question about private gaming rooms.

What kind of place was this, really? He and the security officer entered the restaurant where most of the open area tables were occupied. The other man kept walking through a hallway dotted with tables for two. The area opened back up to a small room with three more small tables. An ornate marble fireplace held a low-burning flame. The space was empty of any other diners.

The gentleman gestured to a chair, which Dominic pulled out for himself. A cut crystal glass of bourbon waited for him. After informing him someone would be along shortly, the other man turned on his heel and left.

Dominic looked around with grim humor. If he were in the States, he might be concerned for his safety. The isolation coupled with the security officer’s stone face and sour expression would be enough to cause worry. But the Brits certainly had class. Rather than accuse or offend, they simply removed him from the table, pleased to offer what would surely be a superb meal.
 

With one smooth motion, he unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap. Pushing aside the bourbon, he reached for the goblet of sparkling water. Within moments, a man came to take his order. Then Dominic was alone again, eyeing the empty seat across from him.

Where was she?

They hadn’t removed the place setting, so that told him someone was expected to join him. He could only hope it would be Natalie and not another security detail. Or worse, someone in charge. His thoughts were interrupted by movement behind him.
 

Turning, he drank her in. Pale and lovely, she wore a long, sleeveless black gown. Her hair was back in a loose chignon and diamonds winked at her ears. Subtle makeup enhanced her blue eyes and put some rose into her cheeks. Otherwise, she would be as colorless as her clothing.

“Dominic.” One word murmured, barely parting her nude lips.

Dominic rose, crossing to the spare chair at his table. Pulling it out, he gestured for her to sit. He was suddenly nervous and breathless, as if someone punched him in the stomach and knocked the air out of him. When she hesitated, he forced himself to ask. “Please.” It came out as a croak.

After she was settled, the waiter reappeared to take her order. She started to wave him away, so Dominic took over. “Champagne, first. Then an order of the prawns with salad starter. We’ll decide dessert a bit later.” If he focused on the server, he could just about function like a normal man.

She didn’t interrupt or protest, for which Dominic was thankful. He poured sparking water for her then leaned back in his seat. Finally, the lump in his throat eased a little.

“Thank you for joining me.”

She looked at him, but no smile softened her lips or reached her glorious eyes. “I would ask how you found me, but then I suspect you just went digging around. Like usual.” Even though her words were softly spoken, they carried a bite.
 

Determined to be honest with her, he nodded once. “I needed to see you, Nat.”

“How did you get in?”

“Excuse me?” She took him off guard with a direct attack where he was most vulnerable.

“Do not
pretend
, Dominic Martin, that you have a membership here. I would know. Bas would have known.”
 

Dominic’s mind raced. “Bas?” He needed time to find an acceptable answer that wasn’t an outright lie.

“Sebastian Payne. My employer. The man who owns this club. He approves each membership application personally. He would never let you in, Dom.” Dominic immediately stopped tapping a finger when Natalie looked down at the telling gesture with pointed scorn. She continued, slightly louder. “So why don’t we cut the pretense and stop wasting each other’s time. Tell me why you’re
really
here.”

Dumbfounded, he stared. “I am
really
here to see you, Toff.”

“Don’t call me that.” The words fired from her, like bullets.

“I’m sorry. I’m making a mess of this.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Let’s start over. I would love for you to join me for dinner, if possible.” He gestured to her with a sweeping move of his hand. “You look beautiful, and I’d be very grateful for your company.” It was rare for Dominic to be so formal. He felt like an awkward fool.