Chapter 166
His mind worked quickly. She must have left her own ticket at Will Call to avoid seeming too eager. Separate arrivals. A rendezvous.
“I am a lucky guy,” he said softly, holding her gaze.
Jocelyn flushed. He’s so committed to the act. He thinks I mean him — but he knows I mean Vance. We’re speaking in code.
“Well, have fun,” she said brightly, retreating toward the kitchen. “I’m ordering Thai food and staying in. I have a date with Netflix.”
Gaston’s smile disappeared. “You’re staying in?”
𝖳𝘩𝖾 𝗯𝘦𝘀𝘁 re𝗏𝗂𝗲𝗐𝘀 𝘰n galnovе𝗹𝗌.𝖼𝗈𝗆
“Of course.” She winked. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your date.”
He stood there, the single ticket heavy in his hand. Intrude?
Before he could ask — before he could demand any clarification at all — his phone rang, cutting sharply through the tension.
He looked at the screen. Elbert Collins.
“I have to take this,” he said, his jaw tightening. “We’ll talk later.”
He walked into his study and closed the door with a soft click.
Jocelyn let out a long breath she had not realized she was holding. “Nailed it.”
She pulled out her phone and texted Vance.
Ticket for Seat 2 is at Will Call under your name. Surprise him! He thinks you’re busy working.
A moment later, Vance replied.
Understood, Mrs. Collins. Does Mr. Collins know?
It’s a surprise, she typed back. Just meet him at the seat.
Copy that.
Twenty minutes later, Gaston emerged from the study. The apartment was quiet except for the faint sound of the shower running in the master bath.
He looked down at the single ticket still in his hand. Seat 1.
He tapped it slowly against his thigh. She had left her ticket — Seat 2 — at Will Call. She wanted to meet him there, separate arrivals, like a secret rendezvous. She was playing hard to get.
“Fine,” he murmured, a smirk returning to his face. “We’ll play it your way, Jocelyn.”
He grabbed his coat and headed for the elevator.
Madison Square Garden was a cauldron of noise. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the floorboards, and the smell of popcorn and beer hung heavy in the air.
Gaston sat in Seat 1, Row AA. The courtside seats offered ample legroom, but the tension locked in his shoulders made even that generous space feel constricting. He checked his Patek Philippe watch. Tip-off was in two minutes.
He draped his camel-hair coat over Seat 2.
His eyes moved to the entrance of the VIP section, a flicker of impatience in his gaze. She had said she was staying in, but it had to be a bluff — a test. He was picturing her arriving late, a triumphant little smile on her face, maybe wearing jeans and a jersey just to surprise him.
A figure approached down the aisle. The usher checked their ticket and pointed to Seat 2.
Gaston turned with a knowing smile, already prepared to tease her for her games.
The smile froze. Then it shattered.
Standing there in a discreet dark polo shirt, holding a bottle of water, was Vance.
.