Page 93 of Roulette: The Madam

I folded my arms in front of me and spread my feet shoulder-length apart. Just like Roulette’s, her beauty was striking. She possessed a softness that made you weary of her fragility. As if she’d break if you talked too loudly. If she worked too hard.Or at all. If she did any heavy-lifting.

“I’m sure you are. What I’m unsure of is your reason for being here. Something deep within me tells me you are not interested in the formula that the others seek.”

She’d called my bluff and I had hardly opened my mouth.

Impressive.

“Your questionnaire was interesting. The best I’ve ever had the opportunity to read. You’re a forward-thinker.”

Which was why I was here.

“So, no formula? Correct?”

“No. I’m not interested inThe Chemist’sformula. Neither am I interested in selling it by the kilo. I am retired. My interests lie elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” She chuckled.

“Elsewhere,” I confirmed.

“Friendship.”

Her assumptions were spot on. Almost too spot on for my comfort.

“Psychic?”

“That’s insulting, Mr. Kingston.”

“Sure feels like it.”

“Well, I’m not.” She sighed, finally unraveling the ponytail she’d been tussling with for the last minute and a half.

I watched as her hair fell down from the perfect bun. It landed near the middle of her back. Something told me it wasn’t artificial. It was all hers.

“Discernment. My gift and my curse.”

Rome slid the small duffle from underneath the vanity she’d been in front of. She slammed it onto the wood. I grimaced, chastising myself for not thinking faster.

Women of her caliber didn’t have any business handling heavy items. That included doors, suitcases, groceries, car seats, or anything else weighing over ten pounds.

“It’s only a bag.”

I found her staring at me through the mirror.

“And my responsibility for the duration of my stay.”

With a nod, she unzipped the bag and dug inside. I waited for more to come from her lips. After a minute, I figured I was waiting in vain.

That’s it?

She busied herself with the dress she pulled over her unitard. It disappeared immediately. Shoes were next, replacing the ones she’d performed in. Tape covered her toes. I winced at the redness. She masked her pain with a smile before speaking again.

Three minutes had passed.The Ballerinawas in deep thought, feeling things and seeing things and hearing things. The hesitation wasn’t only to remind me that she was in total control but that she was gifted far beyond the stage.

“He doesn’t have friends, Mr. Kingston.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then, what’s your angle?”

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