Page 76 of Sinful Escape

That last thought was a low blow. I was nothing like Mother.

Our drinks arrived, and I sat on a lavish leather sofa in a truly incredible building with an equally incredible man, and we were just talking. If it was my boobs that’d led me to this magical moment, then YAY to mountainous melons.

I clutched my crystal tumbler and admired the cocktail—it was presentation perfection. Nestled within the dark orange liquid was a giant ice cube. On top of that was a thin orange slice that looked absolutely pristine.

Is it fake?

Oscar picked up the slice and nibbled on the rind. Not fake.

I copied the move. The orange was solid and when I bit into the slice, I smiled. It had been candied. It was both a surprise and delicious.

We sipped our drinks, and the conversation flowed. Oscar had a wonderful way of making me feel comfortable, and despite my initial concerns about being totally out of my league, I quickly settled in. On his right hand, he wore just one ring. It was a chunky gold band with a row of diamonds centered around the middle—elegant, stylish, yet still manly. My best guess was that his ring cost more than I earned in a year.

“Would you like to come up to my room?”

He’d timed his question to coincide with me sipping my drink, and I gulped back a huge swig. Holy shit! I covered my mouth, and as I coughed into my hand, trying to be as dainty as possible, my mind slammed from one response to the next.

Should I?

Shouldn’t I?

I’d never gone to a stranger’s room before.

Der, that’s because I’d never been asked.

And I’d especially never been asked by a man as incredible as Oscar.

“You don’t have to.” He twirled his giant ice cube in the glass. Calm. Elegant. Gentlemanly perfection. Oscar had it all.

“Oh, it’s ummm, just that . . . why’d you pick me?” I blurted my question, and in an effort to stop my fingers trembling, I clutched the crystal tumbler so hard it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.

His eyes dazzled and a tiny smirk curled his lips. Then his face morphed into seriousness, and he eased forward until our knees touched. Oscar placed his hand on my thigh, and a breath of air escaped my throat. A flush of warmth emanated from beneath his palm and shot through my body.

“I was initially attracted to you because of your stunning hair.” He reached for a curl on my shoulder and twirled it between his fingers. “But it was your blackjack skills that held me captive. It’s not very often I meet a woman who can count cards.”

I shot backward in my seat, gasping, and slapped my hand over my mouth. The urge to run blazed across my brain until I pictured myself wobbling across the plush carpet in shoes that were already killing me and my nanna knickers going so far up my ass, I’d be able to taste them. I glanced around, expecting burly men holding handcuffs to be striding toward me.

“It’s okay, Daisy. Your secret is safe with me. Especially as you made me a significant amount of money.”

My heart thundered against my chest as I eyed him. Oscar was the epitome of cool and calm. He’d been practicing his James Bond impersonation for a very long time. I leaned closer and whispered, “How did you know?”

“I’ve been here often enough to have witnessed it a few times. You’re good.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand. Why were you even in that room? You could be in the high rollers’ suites.”

“They’re all stiffs in there. Nobody’s having fun. I like the atmosphere in the room where I found you.”

“Hmmm.” After seeing the stiffs in the high rollers’ room, his reasoning made sense.

“So, Daisy.” He slipped his hand into his pants pocket and removed a card. “Here’s a key to my room. I’m staying at Hotel De Paris, suite 710. You may meet me there if you wish.” He pointed across the room. “There’s a connecting passage to the hotel in the far corner.” Oscar wove his fingers beneath my hand, raised it, and kissed the back of my palm. “Though I shall be sorely disappointed should you decline.”

He stood and nodded once, and without even another glance in my direction, he strode away.

Chapter Sixteen

As my heart thumped out a crazy beat, I watched Oscar’s sexy ass, perfectly contained in his designer suit, weaving through the card tables until he disappeared from view completely.

I blinked a few times. Staring into my glass, I swirled the orange liquid around the ice cube, and it occurred to me that maybe I’d been slipped a roofie or something. This could all be just a figment of my crazy, overactive libido. Things like this did not happen to me. Not ever.

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