The Losing Game Read Online Free

of my clients like to hurt each other, but as a rule, they tend to prefer their partners alive. I don’t know anything about killing people.”
    “But Avery said ….” Lucas’s voice had risen to a desperate pitch. It was all he could do to remain in his seat.
    “It was a misunderstanding.”
    Lucas’s pulse thundered in his ears, his burning blood seared his cheeks.
    Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
    Using both hands, Lucas reached for his cup and saucer and brought them to his knee. His hands shook, but he didn’t spill a drop. Lois had thankfully not filled the cup to the top, as if she might have sensed his nerves.
    The tea burned Lucas’s lip, and somehow the sensation centered him. Calmed him. Perhaps this was a test. Perhaps Dante wanted to know he could keep his cool under pressure.
    Yes. That was it.
    Lucas’s shoulders eased, and he leaned forward to return his cup and saucer to the table—as the clock on the mantel loudly chimed a glorious ding-dong, ding-dong .
    Lucas jumped like a startled deer. Hot tea sloshed over the side of his toppled teacup, overflowing the saucer and soaking into his trouser leg. “ Shit. ” He leapt up, put his cup and saucer down, and shook the fabric away from his leg.
    Lois reacted immediately, handing Lucas a napkin and mopping at the spillage with another. “It’s fine,” she said. “That old clock surprises everyone.”
    “I haven’t heard Westminster Quarters since I was a child,” Lucas said breathlessly and far too loudly. “My grandparents had a carriage clock. Nothing as grand as that one, but it chimed the quarters and the hours.”
    The tea cooled, and Lucas returned to his seat, acutely aware of Dante studying him, with what felt less like his earlier amusement and more like interest.
    “I hope you’re not scalded,” Dante said.
    “No. I’m fine.”
    “I don’t have many visitors in here.” Dante inched forward to the edge of his seat. He cast his eyes briefly toward the clock. “You’re the first to know the name of the chimes. I’m impressed.”
    Really? If Lucas had known all it would take to impress Dante Okoro was pub-quiz trivia, he’d have bought a cheaper coat. He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m full of useless information.”
    “Such as?”
    Lucas’s treacherous mind hopped and skipped and settled precariously on the crimson-colored glass phallus he’d seen in the shop. “Cranberry glass, like you have in the shop, is made with salts that come from gold. Which is why it’s so expensive.”
    Dante tilted his handsome head to one side. The beginnings of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You had a look around the shop?”
    “Only the front. It’s hard not to look. There are some fascinating things in there.” Lucas blushed yet again.
    “The back is more niche. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.”
    Tea wasn’t Lucas’s cup of tea. Steeling himself, he said, “I don’t really know much about that sort of thing. It’s never been on my radar. I suppose it’s one of those things you don’t know you like until you try it. Until you give it a chance.”
    Dante crossed his right leg over his left, and as it hung, his right foot gently bounced. Lucas didn’t get the impression of impatience. More deliberation.
    Perhaps Dante had changed his mind.

Chapter 3
     
     
    DANTE’S FIRST “no” had been easy. A knee-jerk reaction. The second time had taken a little more effort, but not too much. Then, damn it all, Lucas had spilled his tea and noticed the clock and had known about cranberry glass. He’d interested Dante, and there were fair few people who did that.
    Nonetheless, Dante was losing his touch. He’d always prided himself on the ability to read the secret desires of his potential clients from their stances and expressions. Lucas had stood stiffly in the center of the shop, a tendon in his jaw wildly twitching, looking as if he needed to tell someone he wanted to be blindfolded and bound, and, “Please