Page 81 of My Ex-Fiance's Best Men
“You’ve had quite the week, I know.”
“You don’t know all of it. Not really.” She chuckles dryly as she pulls her honey blonde hair into a tight bun at the top of her head. “Alright. What’s the plan?”
“We need to get in without being noticed. Act like we’re supposed to be there. Theo managed to pull some strings and found us a couple of names to use from the Jade Dragon’stournament guest list,” I explain. “It’s game over if the actual couple shows up, though, and we’re still in there.”
Bouncers dressed in black patrol the street, particularly the doors along the side alley, where the higher-level players go for their exclusive access. They’re big. I might be able to hold my own against a few of them, but not all of them, if they decide to get physical.
“All we have to do is get in there and confirm my mom’s involvement, right?” Phoebe asks. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“If you want to sit this one out, I’m more than happy to go in alone.”
“No. I need to see for myself,” she replies. “Maybe even look her in the eyes. Perhaps it’ll be enough to stop her from coming after me.”
“It’s worth a shot.”
I say it but I doubt it’s true. Helen is cold and calculated, ready to leave her own daughter destitute in order to save her ass and her reputation. It reeks of desperation, too, which makes me think she’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants. It just breaks my heart, seeing how low she’s willing to go to burn her daughter and save herself.
Clearly, not all women are meant to be mothers.
“Follow my lead,” I tell Phoebe as we get out of the car.
“How do I look?” she asks.
I measure her from head to toe, taking in every curve and soft line of her beautiful body. The lilac pants accentuate her hipsand long legs, while the white satin shirt elegantly hugs her breasts. I reach up and remove the scrunchie from her hair. She runs her fingers through to give it a loose flow over one shoulder.
“Absolutely perfect,” I tell her. “You’re going to make it hard for me to focus while we’re in there, but I will do my best, I promise.”
Phoebe laughs lightly. “Dom, you’re too kind.”
“No, baby, I’m honest,” I reply and pull her into a kiss.
I press my mouth hard against hers, with meaning and intention. Her breath vanishes and her plump lips part as she takes a step back. She hooks her arm through mine and confidently accompanies me across the street.
“Penny’s got a top-notch personal assistant,” I mutter as I take out two fake driver’s licenses with our borrowed names on them. “I’ve never seen anyone work such wonders with a graphic design program and a handful of office devices.”
“I know, right?” Phoebe chuckles as she looks at hers.
We reach the front door of the Jade Dragon, where two burly gentlemen wait. Immediately, they give me a hard look, then scan Phoebe from top to bottom in a manner that makes my blood boil. Instinctively, I square my shoulders and return the look with a glare of my own.
“John and Sandy Newsom,” I say, flashing our fake IDs. “We’re on the list for tonight’s tournament.”
The man looks at the ID’s and cross references them with the list, giving a decisive nod. “Good luck, sir.”
“Thank you,” I offer a flat smile as they open the doors for us.
Phoebe and I step inside the main lobby and check in with the hostess.
“Good evening,” she greets us, checking our names again against another printed list. “Mr. and Mrs. Newsom. Welcome. We haven’t had you on the Golden Goose tournament rosters for a while. I hope you’re both well.”
“Had some trouble with the SEC last year,” I casually reply. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“We just had to be careful with our liquidity,” Phoebe chimes in, elegantly sure of herself. “But we’re back now and ready to roll.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” the hostess replies. It quickly becomes obvious that while they do not keep visual records of all of their players, the organizers do take note of the playing frequency. “You’ll be playing in room three, Mr. Newsom. It’s the third door to your right, down the hallway. A colleague will be there to escort you both to your table.”
We walk into room three like we own the place. It’s filled with Hold ’Em tables—twenty-five in total—each seating between five and ten players.
Music plays in the background while waiters move around the room serving booze and fancy finger-foods. Dealers in black and gold tunics shuffle cards and turn rivers, while a kaleidoscope of players try to beat each other in a game that’s all about strategy, and if you’re sharp enough, counting cards if bluffing doesn’t get you far.
