Chapter 237
Two days later, the Wolfe Hotel office was humming with activity. Carmen was back at her desk in a red power suit that screamed I’m fine.
“My mother called,” Carmen said, typing furiously. “She asked if I could ‘forgive’ him.”
“Classic mom,” Jocelyn sighed from her own desk.
“My dad took the phone and said ‘Good riddance.’ I love him,” Carmen smiled.
Jocelyn’s intercom buzzed. “Mrs. Collins, a package for you.”
A courier walked in — not in a uniform, but in a suit. He handed Jocelyn a black envelope with gold lettering.
A𝖼𝘵𝗂𝘷е 𝗰o𝗺𝗆𝗎𝗇і𝘁y 𝗼n 𝗴a𝗹𝘯o𝗏𝖾l𝘀.𝖼𝗈𝘮
It wasn’t mail. It was an invitation.
She opened it.
The Phoenix Club. Saturday Night. Private Room.
Carmen leaned over her shoulder. “Gaston invited you to his poker night?”
“Is that a big deal?” Jocelyn asked.
“That’s enormous,” Carmen said, her eyebrows climbing. “That’s the Inner Circle. Vance, Xavier, Harrison. The billionaire boys’ club.”
“I thought they didn’t allow wives,” Jocelyn frowned.
“They don’t,” Carmen grinned. “Unless you’re the Queen. He’s claiming you — publicly, in his world.”
Jocelyn felt a flutter in her stomach. “What do I wear to a poker game?”
“Something that says ‘I can bluff you out of your trust fund,’” Carmen advised.
“Speaking of trust funds…” Carmen pointed to a massive bouquet of lilies sitting on the filing cabinet. “Justin sent me flowers.”
“Lilies. Nice,” Jocelyn said.
“He sent them to my home,” Carmen said, narrowing her eyes. “I never gave him my address.”
“He drove you there, remember?” Jocelyn reminded her.
“Oh. Right.” Carmen touched one of the petals, her expression thoughtful. It wasn’t the address itself that unsettled her — it was the speed and confidence with which he had used it. A statement. A move on a chessboard she hadn’t even realized she was playing on. “Still. He’s persistent.”
“Do you like him?” Jocelyn asked.
“He’s intense,” Carmen admitted. “And I’m rebounding. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Or an adventure,” Jocelyn said, and winked.
She picked up her phone and texted Gaston.
I accept the invite. What are the stakes?
His reply came instantly.
Your heart. And maybe my watch.
Jocelyn smiled. She set the phone down and looked at Carmen.
“Teach me Texas Hold’em,” she said.
Carmen stood up and locked the office door. “Grab the deck. Let’s take their money.”
Saturday night arrived wrapped in humidity and anticipation. Jocelyn sat in the back of the Rolls Royce, smoothing the fabric of her midnight blue velvet dress.
Gaston sat beside her — no tie, top button undone, his grey suit perfectly tailored. He looked relaxed. Dangerous.
Vance was driving.
“So, the secret wife finally emerges,” Vance said, catching her eye in the rearview mirror.
“Eyes on the road, Vance,” Gaston said, though there was no heat in it.
“I’ve heard so much about you. Mostly from Gaston drunk-dialing me at two in the morning,” Vance laughed.
“I do not drunk dial,” Gaston said immediately.
Jocelyn turned to him. “Speaking of things from the past — Mrs. Gable told me about the ER.”
Vance’s eyes widened in the mirror. “Oh. The incident.”