Chapter 238
Gaston shot him a look that could have frozen the Hudson solid. “It was nothing.”
“Nothing?” Vance scoffed. “You carried her three blocks because the ambulance was stuck in gridlock.”
“Three blocks?” Jocelyn gasped.
“It was two blocks,” Gaston corrected, turning to look out the window. “And you were light.”
“Why didn’t you visit me in the room?” Jocelyn asked softly.
“I did,” Gaston said. “You were asleep. Then Douglas walked in.”
𝘜𝗉d𝗮𝗍е𝘀 𝖾𝗏𝘦𝗋y wе𝖾k 𝗼n 𝗀а𝘭nov𝘦𝘭𝗌.c𝘰𝗆
He paused.
“So I left. I didn’t want to wake you.”
Jocelyn reached over and took his hand. His palm was warm and rough against her skin.
“You are a terrible liar, Collins,” she whispered.
“And you are far too inquisitive, Wolfe,” he said, squeezing her hand.
The car pulled up to an unmarked door in Tribeca. The Phoenix Club.
A bouncer nodded as they approached. “Mr. Collins. Sir.”
They walked inside. The air was thick and heavy, laden with expensive cigars and the low murmur of jazz.
Gaston frowned immediately. “It’s too smoky.”
“It’s a cigar bar, G,” Vance pointed out.
“Not tonight. My wife is here.” Gaston stopped a passing waiter. “Turn on the extractors. No smoking in the Private Room.”
The waiter looked genuinely alarmed. “Yes, sir.”
Jocelyn touched his arm. “You don’t have to rearrange the entire club for me.”
“I do,” Gaston said, guiding her through the crowd. “Secondhand smoke is bad for… your skin.”
He caught himself.
He wanted to preserve the air she breathed — to keep it as clean and untouched as she was. But he didn’t say that. He kept walking, his hand steady at the small of her back.
The VIP room was quieter. A green baize table sat at the center beneath low, focused lights.
Xavier and Harrison were already seated, stacking chips. They rose when Jocelyn walked in.
“Gentlemen. This is Jocelyn,” Gaston said.
“The legend herself,” Xavier said, kissing her hand.
“Gaston talks about you more than his portfolio,” Harrison grinned.
Gaston kicked Harrison’s shin under the table. “Deal the cards.”
Jocelyn sat beside Gaston. He placed his arm along the back of her chair, creating an easy, unspoken barrier between her and the rest of the room.
“Do you play, Jocelyn?” Xavier asked, shuffling the deck.
“I’m learning,” she said. “Be gentle.”
It was a perfect lie.
The game began. Texas Hold’em.
Jocelyn folded the first few hands. She watched. She observed. Xavier’s tells were subtle — he tapped his ring when he was bluffing. Harrison exhaled slowly when he had a strong hand. Gaston played aggressively and barely glanced at his cards. He spent most of the time watching her.
“You okay? Need anything? Water?” he murmured.
“I’m fine,” she murmured back. “Focus on winning.”
“I already won,” he said, his eyes holding hers.
Vance groaned from across the table. “Get a room.”
A knock at the door. A waiter stepped in, visibly uneasy.
“Mr. Douglas is outside, sir. He’s asking to join.”
The room went still. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.
“Kieran? Here?” Jocelyn straightened.
.
.