Page 27 of Playing to Win

“We’ve no cash.” The blonde one clutched her Louis Vuitton shopping bag against her hip and kept walking. “Try someone else.”

Colin’s face burned. “I’m not a beggar. I need to get to the Waldorf Astoria.”

Her friend turned and laughed. “Right, I’m sure you do.”

Colin dared not follow them, for fear of getting pinched for harassment. He pulled out his phone and turned on the sat nav. This could put him over his data limit for the month and cost him dearly, but he was desperate.

I can’t be his servant, he thought, watching the location icon leap from Glasgow to Edinburgh.I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

The surrounding area crystallized on his screen. He was exactly where he’d thought he was. It was the fucking street name that changed, from Princes to Sandwick, just past the hotel. He took off again, cursing the entire city.

Without waiting for the hotel doorman to open the door, he burst into the lobby, just in time to see Andrew standing in the lift, out of breath. He saw Colin, and his jaw dropped in surprise. But as the doors slid shut, he leaned back against the mirrored wall, crossed his legs at the ankle, and flipped Colin off with two elegant fingers.

“Oh no, I amnotlosing.” Colin shot through the lobby and into the grand hallway, searching for the staircase.

It found him.

He slid to a stop at the bottom, breath catching in his throat. He’d never seen anything so magnificent.

The wide, gray-marble stairs were flanked by two green-marble columns on either side. The staircase swept up to a landing, then split in half to curve back over his head.

“Everything all right, sir?” asked a man with an Eastern European accent standing at the concierge’s desk. “Can I help you find something?”

Realizing he looked like an invader, Colin pulled out his key. “My room’s upstairs.”

The concierge nodded. “Have a good night, sir.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Colin climbed slowly, running his hand along the polished mahogany banister. Nothing had ever felt so smooth, so quality. He stooped to let his fingers brush the intricate wrought-iron pattern beneath the railing.

He paused on the landing to look down at the hall’s gleaming white-marble floor, then up at the crystal chandelier, which seemed made of a thousand glittering icicles.

“What’s wrong?” Andrew was leaning over the railing on the floor above, peering down at him. “Is it your knee?”

Colin swept his arm over their surroundings. “This is like the staircase fromTitanic.”

“A bit.” Andrew descended to the stairway’s curve, then gave a gentlemanly bow. “I say, would you do me the honor of escorting you to our stateroom of doom?”

Bizarrely, as he climbed the stairs, Colin did not think of the hot young Leonardo DiCaprio or even Billy Zane. He thought of the elderly couple who’d curled up on their bunk together, still dressed in formalwear, waiting for the water to take them.

Andrew’s hand had never felt so soft in his. Colin kissed it, right on the knuckles.

Together they walked toward their room, over the pale-blue carpet that muffled their footsteps. Colin knew he should give in, accept defeat, pay for his foolish mistake and his backfired attempt to outwit Andrew. But then he saw one last chance…

“Fuck is this?” Colin stopped beside a well-lit but empty marble pedestal at the corner of their hallway. “There’s nothing on it.”

“Perhaps it’s meant to be an art piece in itself.”

“Is it from a museum? What’s that plaque on the bottom say?”

Andrew released Colin’s hand as he leaned over to examine the pedestal. “I don’t see a—”

“Bye!” Colin darted down the hall toward their room.

“You bastard!” Andrew’s feet thundered behind him. “And after I came back for you!”

Colin inserted his key in the lock, then pushed the door open.

But he just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t fair. He wanted to win, but a victory by cheating would taste even fouler than a loss. No matter how much the prize hurt.

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