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  Does he know about my missing handbag?

  * * *

  Mitchell shook his head.

  “Should I recognize it?” I asked, continuing my conversation with Andros as I wrote again.

  I pushed the note back Mitchell’s way.

  * * *

  Please give me time. Please, I can make this right.

  * * *

  “I don’t know why you would,” Andros said. “Hillman hasn’t been around until lately and you know I don’t allow anyone near you unless they have my complete trust.”

  “So you know him?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation away from my phone or purse and definitely away from admitting I’d allowed someone into my room, and I’d been swindled out of $40,000. “And you don’t trust him?”

  “I didn’t say that. Don’t make assumptions where I’m concerned. I would think you would have learned that.”

  Asshole. Yes, I’ve learned.

  My gaze went to Mitchell and I tilted my head in a silent plea.

  “I’m not assuming,” I replied to Andros. “I’m wondering, should I be concerned about his play? Do you think he’ll try something dishonest?” I covered the microphone of the phone. “Please?” I whispered to Mitchell.

  “You owe me,” Mitchell growled. “And you don’t have long. I’ll deny knowing.”

  My head was nodding. I wasn’t sure what I’d owe. Whatever it was, it would be worth it to save me a bit of Andros’s wrath.

  “Dishonest,” Andros repeated. “I’m most certain of it, as certain as I am of your ability to win no matter what. I’m still waiting for you to tell me what you haven’t. Hurry now. I’m a busy man.”

  At least I knew it wasn’t about the purse. That left Patrick and I... “I’m sorry. What haven’t I told you?”

  “A man touched what is mine and you don’t think I should know?”

  “Touched?” My pulse began to race as my knees gave way. With trembling resuming, I again landed on the edge of the bed.

  “Madeline.” His tone deepened as he issued his command. “Stay away from Marion Elliott.”

  Marion Elliott.

  I exhaled with relief.

  “His attention isn’t simply because you’re beautiful,” Andros went on. “He knows of your reputation and ability. He wants to charm you into being unnerved.”

  “I promise, I can handle myself with Marion Elliott. I’m not charmed. If I had been, our encounter would have been more memorable. He simply asked me to join him for a drink, and I declined.”

  “He kissed you.”

  My neck straightened at his continuing change in tone. He may be upset I didn’t answer his calls, but he was more upset about Marion Elliott’s pleasantries.

  “My hand,” I said softly. “He kissed my hand.”

  “I don’t share what is mine unless it’s to my benefit.”

  I wasn’t his.

  I wasn’t his dear or his property to be shared.

  My servitude was a debt I could never repay. That didn’t mean I was property to be claimed.

  It was the mantra I told myself when the lines in reality began to blur.

  I took a breath. “Andros, I just woke. You’re busy. I will have my phone charged soon, and I will see the number of times you’ve called. Tonight, after the tournament, I will turn on the ringer and personally tell you that I have advanced to tomorrow’s afternoon round, that I’m part of the top eighteen, and that I stayed clear of Marion Elliott. May I go now?”

  “Return the phone to Mitchell. I expect to see the location of your phone soon.”

  “Goodbye,” I said, handing the phone to Mitchell. As I did, my lips mouthed my silent plea.

  “Boss,” he said into the phone. “Yes, I did. Let me step into the hallway.”

  As soon as the door closed and latched, I let out an exaggerated breath and flopped onto the bed. Just because I’d avoided telling Andros the truth about my purse and its missing status didn’t negate the fact it was gone.

  Staring up at the ceiling, I lifted my hands to my temples and pushed in an effort to stop the recent throbbing.

  The action wouldn’t locate my purse, the receipt, or the phone, but it helped me think. Something else that would help was breakfast. With Patrick’s visit, I had never called for dinner.

  Making myself move, my first destination was a visit to the bathroom. After taking care of business, I splashed water onto my cheeks, removing the remnants of last night’s makeup. As I did, I tested my cheek, finding it no longer tender and the color nearly normal. My neck too was bruise free.

  There were other parts of my body that were tender. The thoughts of those aches brought a smile to my lips. Yes, Patrick, I remember you. And just as quickly the thoughts of elation faded.

  Damn him.

  Back out in the room, I called for room service. Once my breakfast was ordered, I returned to the window. Opening the drapes, I peered out at the city below, noticing how the morning sunlight had warmed the pane. The ice crystals from before were gone, making the evidence of last night’s activities less obvious. If I hadn’t seen them before, they could be easily missed.

  My head tilted as I tried to find them.

  This time my sentiment came in an audible form as I called out to the room, “Damn you, Patrick. How could you?”

  I spun back toward the bed, wondering what additional evidence of our night could be found. Throwing back the blankets, I recalled our night. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fallen asleep in a man’s arms.

  “Damn you,” I again proclaimed aloud. “Damn you for whatever game you think you’re playing. Damn you for souring the memory of the one man I’d trusted.”

  I wasn’t sure how I would do it, but I needed to find or contact him, and it had to be soon.

  Would losing the receipt exclude me from the tournament?

  I wasn’t certain. I’d never had this issue before.

  That couldn’t happen.

  Madeline

  “I don’t know what else to do,” I said to Mitchell. “Nothing in my purse is as valuable as the receipt. Everything else can be replaced.”

  His head shook as we rode side by side in the back seat of another taxi on our way to Club Regal. “You better pray they have a copy.”

  I was.

  I was praying with a vigor I hadn’t in years.

  “This can’t be the first time something like this has happened.” It was the first time it happened to me. My gaze went out the window to the street and sidewalk. Despite the cooler temperatures, people in heavy coats, hats, gloves, and boots, were scurrying along. Missions didn’t wait for weather. With their heads down to the wind, they trudged on. It reminded me of the people in Detroit. These people were hardy when it came to cold weather.

  “You showed your ID at the desk,” Mitchell said.

  “I know.”

  “You said you didn’t leave the room.”

  “I didn’t.”

  His tone lowered. “Listen, I didn’t tell Andros because my ass is on the line too, but so help me God, I won’t go down for this. You’re lying about something. There’s no way your whole purse disappeared, magically vanished during the night.” He paused for a moment like he was reviewing the evening. “I know you had it when we got to your room. You opened the door. I suppose you will need a third key.”

  “I will,” I said, my mind swirling with more thoughts. My temples continued to throb and the breakfast I’d eaten about an hour ago was doing cartwheels in my stomach. The receipt was the most important item, but now my mind was on other things.

  My phone could reveal to Patrick the world of the Ivanov bratva. I didn’t want to worry about him, not after he did this to me. Nevertheless, one call to the wrong person could enter Patrick into a world he didn’t know existed. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”

  “You searched again?” he asked.

  “I did.”

  I hadn’t. My gut told me I’d been robbed. My body obviously
led me astray, but my gut was rarely wrong.

  “Did you tip the person who delivered you dinner?” he asked.

  His questions wouldn’t stop. I liked him better when he was silent. “I didn’t eat dinner.”

  Mitchell’s neck straightened.

  “I fell asleep,” I explained again, sticking to my story. “I didn’t eat until this morning, and I tipped on the receipt, not in cash.” I lay my head back on the seat and closed my eyes, hoping Mitchell would take the hint and let this conversation rest. There was nothing we were going to solve in this taxi.

  The cab came to a stop outside Club Regal. After Mitchell paid the fare and we exited the car, I buried my gloved hands deep into the pockets of my coat and stared up at the building. The limestone architecture was ornate and the red awning rich. Even if one didn’t know this was a private club, it would be obvious that the clients within had a great deal of money.

  The doorman must have recognized us from last night as he simply nodded and opened the heavy door. Unlike last night when we’d arrived after nightfall, now entering from the sunny street made the club—the paneling and carpeting—seem ominously darker than before.

  It was like walking into a well-furnished cave, isolated from the world.

  “Ms. Miller,” a woman called as she came my way. She was older with short blonde hair and a regal air. Her black dress and pumps were simple yet elegant as was her single string of pearls. Though we hadn’t previously met, I was certain she worked for the club.

  “Yes.”

  Nodding to Mitchell, she offered her hand to me. “Hello, I’m Veronica. I work here, specifically with events such as your tournament. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you last night and introduce myself. I wanted to tell you that we here at Club Regal were pleased you agreed to join us for this tournament.” Her voice lowered. “And if I can confess, I’m rooting for you. We’ve never crowned a female champion.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. I would be honored to be the first.”

  “However,” she said, looking at her wristwatch. “You are early for tonight’s activities.”

  “I am. I was wondering if we might have a word in private.”

  “Yes, of course. My office is back this way.” She gestured away from the restaurant, bar, and front door. “We can speak there. I hope there’s not a problem.”

  I turned to Mitchell. “I’ll find you when we’re done.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ma’am, under the circumstances—”

  “Thank you, Mitchell,” I interrupted dismissively, then turned and began walking the direction Veronica led.

  I didn’t get far when his large hand grasped my upper arm. Leaning in close, he whispered, “You better do what you discussed. Be clear, if you fuck with me, I’m not going down alone.”

  Veronica stopped and turned our way. “Is everything all right?”

  My gaze went from Mitchell’s beady stare to his hand still on my arm. My voice was hushed. “I told you what would happen if you touched me again.”

  Slowly his grasp released. “Ms. Miller.”

  I took a deep breath and smiled toward Veronica. “Everything is fine. My associate will wait out here.”

  “The Bar Regal is open,” she said. “You’re welcome to wait in there.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  The splendor of the club disappeared as we entered a locked hallway with doors lining each side. “This is...”

  Sterile.

  Plain.

  Quite the contrast.

  I wasn’t certain how to describe it.

  “This is our secure area, behind the scenes,” she replied. “I hope it won’t ruin the facade.”

  “No, I like it. It feels less pretentious.”

  With a keycard from her pocket, Veronica opened the door to what I assumed was her office. Flipping a switch, she gestured me into her space. The room was not large, but it was cozier than I expected. A large L-shaped desk faced two walls in the corner. There was a leather sofa along another wall, bookcases, and a small table and two chairs. There was a separate door slightly ajar. At first glance, I assumed it was her private bathroom.

  “May I take your coat, Ms. Miller?”

  “Madeline, please.”

  “Madeline.”

  Removing my gloves, I placed them in my coat pockets and unfastened the large buttons. My boots were high heeled and my hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Beneath the coat, I was wearing casual slacks with a sweater. My makeup was minimal. I wasn’t dressed for the tournament.

  With a quick scan of my appearance, she asked, “Are you planning to stay until tonight?”

  “No. May I?” I gestured to the table.

  I liked that she didn’t have the chairs across from her desk. This woman was confident enough in her position to forgo having the furniture arranged for a power play.

  “Yes, of course,” she said. After hanging my coat on a hall tree, she sat across the table. “Now, what brought you here this afternoon?”

  “Veronica, I came today in person because I have a highly unusual situation.”

  With a scoff, she shook her head. “When it comes to this particular tournament, I’m no longer shocked. Everything about it has been unusual, and it seems to be getting more irregular by the minute.”

  Folding my hands on my lap, I leaned back. If this woman was going to confide in me about anything, it bettered my chances of remaining in the tournament. “You don’t say? What’s odd?”

  “I really shouldn’t mention it.”

  “I don’t think it’s cheating to understand the tournament. And...” I brightened my smile. “...you did say you’re rooting for me.”

  Her lips thinned as lines of contemplation showed on her forehead. “The buy-in. I wasn’t consulted. Not that it’s my decision, it’s not. It’s Mr. Beckman’s. However, it’s highly unusual just the same and I voiced that opinion. I told Mr. Beckman that it set a precedent. He assured me that it would be all right. One time and done.” She exhaled again as her lips formed a straight line.

  “Are you saying that you were right? Someone else wants to buy in?”

  “Highly unusual.”

  My mind was churning. “I suppose if someone didn’t make the cut, they would perhaps give that a chance.”

  “Oh goodness,” she said, “you’re right. That wasn’t what happened, but this is a mess. I think it needs to be stated in no uncertain terms that no more buy-ins are possible after tonight’s round. Mr. Beckman disagrees. He said to do that would shine the spotlight on the two gentlemen.”

  I sat taller. “Two?”

  “Well, I suppose you’ll find out tonight anyway. You heard the announcement about Mr. Hillman.”

  I nodded.

  “The other buy-in is a member of the club. If we allowed Mr. Hillman who is no longer a member, it was impossible to refuse Mr. Kelly.”

  My eyes blinked as I tried to process. “Excuse me? Mr. Kelly?” Surely it wasn’t my Mr. Kelly. He wouldn’t do that, enter a tournament where I was playing, where I needed to win.

  “Patrick Kelly,” Veronica said. “You wouldn’t know him.”

  I shrugged, afraid to speak and reveal that I did know him. He’s the reason I’m here, the reason my purse is missing. He stole my purse and now he’d stolen a player’s spot.

  Could he attempt to use my chips?

  “What will that do to the lineup? Will someone arrive who is expecting to play only to learn he won’t?” I hadn’t been paying attention to all the placements, and then I recalled that Antonio Hillman was announced as number thirty. “Will this Mr. Kelly’s addition remove Mr. Hillman from play?”

  “It’s a mess. We can’t do that. We accepted his buy-in.”

  I sat taller. “And you accepted each player’s entry fee.”

  “I know. I know. Ever since Mr. Kelly’s visit with Mr. Beckman, I’ve been hoping someone would willingly drop out. I know that isn’t right, but it would make things go smoother.�
��

  “He came in here...in person? When?” The rest of her statement registered. “Drop out?”

  “Yes, it wasn’t long ago. I believe he left just before your arrival.”

  My skin warmed.

  Fuck.

  If I tell her that I don’t have my chip receipt, she could say I was disqualified. That would help her situation and open a spot for Patrick.

  There was no way I could let that happen.

  She waved her hand. “I apologize. You didn’t come here to hear me complain.” Her expression morphed into one of alarm. “Please forget what I said. It was wrong of me, an old lady’s musings. I would never mean to insinuate that Club Regal would deny Mr. Kelly. I wouldn’t want that to get out. It’s not what I meant.” Her words came faster. “I am simply exasperated at the whole precedent. I hope you understand.”

  Why was she suddenly nervous?

  There was no way for her to know that I have had any association with Mr. Kelly.

  “Ms... I mean Madeline,” she said, leaning forward, “forget we had this talk. Let’s regroup. Now, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?”

  “I was just wondering if the club has record of our earnings thus far. I was curious if you retained that information or only we have our own receipts.”

  “The chips were counted, collected, and tagged accordingly. Despite all that has occurred, when you enter the hall tonight your receipt is merely your entry ticket. The dealers will confirm that your receipt matches their records and after the players are randomly assigned to the individual tables, you will be given your chips, the same ones you had last night. You know how superstitious gamblers are? We try to account for all circumstances.”

  “And if someone misplaced their receipt?”

  “Madeline, this is far from your first go-round. You know that would put the club in a difficult spot.”

  I smiled. “It seems that is where the club is at this moment with Mr. Hillman and now Mr. Kelly.”

  “I hope you’re not saying that your receipt is missing.”

  “If I were saying that, I would hope that Club Regal would be as accommodating to me as it has been to Mr. Hillman and Mr. Kelly. After all, we want a female to win, and I would hate for your displeasure regarding the recent situations to be repeated.”