Page 57 of When He Plays

No one spoke.

Most of the people there barely seemed to breathe.

And then…

Laughter. From Ares. Booming, hard laughter. He pointed at Logan. “That’s why I can’t stay mad at you! You are such a wild bastard!”

Logan didn’t laugh. Why bother? He’d been serious.

And despite his grinning expression, Ares knows it.

“The stakes will tempt you,” Ares promised. “Because I’m putting up my hotel in Athens.”

“You are desperate,” Logan realized. That wasn’t bullshit. In order to offer up that hotel, Ares had to be in dire straits. “You want that casino of yours back so badly, eh?”

The tightening of Ares’s jaw told him that, yes, he did.

“Probably because of the Russians, am I right?” Logan continued because he truly had come to raise some hell. “That is one of their very favorite money-laundering enterprises, and if you don’t control the casino in Loutraki any longer, then you just aren’t as useful to them, are you? Bad mistake putting it on the table. I think you got far too cocky during our previous game.”

“My hand should have won. I should have won everything!” Spittle flew from Ares’s mouth.

“Okay. Yo!” A loud call from Carmichael as he waved toward the woman Ares had called Evelyn earlier. “This is dramatic, and I need a couple of strong drinks if I’m getting through the night. I’m sure there are some people around here who can make that happen, right?”

Evelyn turned her head toward Ares.

“Champagne to start,” Ares informed her after sucking in a deep, long breath. “Should be chilling. Bring out the glasses, and we’ll toast before we begin play.”

“Aw, man.” Carmichael’s shoulders dropped. “I’m gonna need something a lot stronger than champagne if I’m getting through any hands with you jerks.”

“Excuse me?” Freya’s brows shot up.

“Not you,” Carmichael rushed to assure her. “I did not mean you in the jerk category. You’re classy and sophisticated, and I’m pretty sure your last husband was a duke or a count or some fancy thing like that.”

Waiters brought out champagne flutes. Champagne bubbled and fizzed in the flutes.

“One for each player,” Ares directed.

The flutes were placed next to each player. Well, not just the players. Charlotte got one, too.

Uh, oh. Logan studied the fizzing liquid, then swung his attention back to his host.

“Entry into the games tonight will be quite expensive,” Ares warned. “But, don’t worry, Logan, your…personal assistant? Bodyguard? Lover? If she wants to play, she can ante up just like everyone else. Since Sebastian left, she can take his spot.”

Charlotte pushed the flute away. “I can’t afford the stakes for your games.” The first time she’d spoken since entering the room. Her voice was clear, cold.

“You can always bet yourself,” Ares offered with a shrug of one shoulder. His gaze darted over her. Lustful. “As proven last night, you’re worth a great deal.” He reached for his flute. Lifted it. “Especially to Logan.”

Freya raised her flute. The better to study it with a critical eye. “This had better be the most expensive champagne known to man. Otherwise, I will be disappointed.”

Carmichael also raised his glass. But his expression was mournful. “Not gonna be strong enough for me.”

Pierre twisted his glass so the light would hit it. “I always enjoy a fine champagne.”

Logan grabbed his glass. “This damn thing better not have poison in it.”

“Fuck.” Carmichael immediately slammed his flute back down on the table. Some of the champagne spilled over the rim. “New bottle,” he blasted. “New bottle. We see it opened, and we see it poured.”

Ares glared at Logan. “I think I hate you.”