Duke of Decadence (Lords of Scandal 9)

“I disagree,” Menace answered. “She’s making us buckets of money.”

“As long as you’re happy,” Bash’s voice rose with every word. “Who cares what happens to her?”

“We’ll see she’s cared for,” Infamy answered, forever calm, cool, and collected.

“How?” Bash fired back sounding even more agitated.

Isabella didn’t even pretend to keep walking. She’d stopped in front of the door, covering her mouth as she leaned her ear closer to the door. Not that she needed to be any closer to hear Bash. His voice boomed down the hall.

“I don’t know, yet.” Infamy answered. She could swear she heard him scratch his chin.

“It doesn’t matter now, anyhow. It’s a problem for another—” Vanity started but a bang interrupted his words.

“It’s a problem for right now. We either come up with a s

olution or she never steps foot in this club again.”

Silence fell and Isabella’s heart stopped as she pressed her fingers to her cheeks.

Bash was truly worried about her.

Eliza had been right about the depth of his caring. She could hear the concern in his voice.

She’d offered herself to him and in return she’d been under his protection but not in his bed. Why hadn’t he taken the bargain? He’d kissed her twice, so he wanted her. That much was obvious.

And he cared. Why else would he be so vigorously arguing in her defense? The only answer that made sense was that he wanted to protect her.

She shook her head. Something didn’t make sense.

But she didn’t have time to listen any longer at the door. The dealer she needed to replace made his way down the hall and she started for her table. It was time to get to work.

She entered the front room, where several games were already underway, and she glanced to her usual spot, which was filled with the same sort of men she saw every evening. Well-dressed but red-faced and swaying slightly on their feet. Bleary smiles decorating their faces.

Her gut clenched in familiar unease, but she pushed it back down and headed for her place on the floor.

Taking her position, Isabella cut the deck and began to shuffle the cards. “The game is Loo,” she said as she glanced around the table. She always kept her voice quiet despite the din of noise. It helped disguise the true sound of her voice.

Two men rose, clearly looking to play something else so that only four players remained. Three she dismissed from the first. They were drunk and the game would quickly pass them by.

But the fourth…

He didn’t appear intoxicated in the least. His hazel eyes glittered with interest as he stared at her.

Her hand shook and her breath caught as she began to pass out the cards. Why did he look at her like that? Like he saw right through her?

Did he know she wasn’t a man?

He said nothing as the hand started but that only added to her unease and she shifted in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. Several rounds passed and she tried to lose herself in the game, in the cards. But it was difficult. His attention was unwavering.

And then, he leaned close. So close that she could feel the heat of him, smell the pine scent of his cologne. Fear pulsed through her. Where was Bash?

Automatically, she pulled the cards she held in her hands tighter to her chest, but his gaze didn’t cast down. Instead, he leaned closer still, brushing her arm. His touch made her take a half step back.

What was happening?

Then just like that, he leaned away again.

Blood rushed in her ears and the cards nearly fell from her hand. She couldn’t do this. Her concentration was shot.