She wanted him.
And she wanted to run from him.
Here she was, hoping to best him.
She had not, of course, said anything to her sister about his beauty.
Or her opinion on it.
They had rules about men.
Very strict rules. And she was...pushing things. She knew it.
She knew that she would have to start at an early round table, and that the likelihood of being placed with him immediately was low.
In fact, she wasn’t entirely certain she would be put in his tier. But she had no problem putting herself there.
Her body went languid just thinking of being near him again.
She swept through the grand manor and took a glass of champagne off the tray. She was allowed three sips of champagne, and the rest of the night she simply mimicked the act of drinking.
One thing she had learned was that your behavior had to blend. Melt seamlessly in with the people around you. They were narcissists. Every last one of them. All humans were. To one extent or another. And they were always much more concerned with their own behavior than with yours. But it was important that they didn’t feel you challenge their behavior. To make declarations about not drinking made others uncomfortable. Who were constantly then attempting to justify their actions and paint them as being inside normality.
And so Jessie pretended to drink. In fact, she found it was a boon because the more she drank, the more those around her often felt comfortable drinking. And she was always happy to have her opponents’ wits slightly addled.
Not that she needed it.
She could win even if everyone was playing their best. But what she didn’t want them to note was why she won. And how she did so with ease.
She always lost a couple of times. Enough to throw off suspicion.
She sidled up to the waiter. Not one of the waitresses, and not one of the straight men. She knew exactly who to speak to. She needed someone who wouldn’t feel threatened by her beauty, but also wouldn’t want it for himself.
“I know that we are not supposed to do this, but do you know which table Ewan Kincaid is playing at?”
The man looked at her, and his eyebrows lifted. “If you know you’re not supposed to do it, why are you doing it?”
“I’m sorry.” She tried to look both ditzy and overcome. “I have a bit of a crush on him. And I just want to make sure that I can sit at his table for a moment. I’m not very good. Honestly, I’m only here to...you know.”
His smile went naughty. “You want to get lucky.”
“I do,” she said, smiling.
Definitely not in the way he meant. But yes. She was here to get lucky.
“He’s been placed in the West Wing game. It’s really high stakes. But he is...”
“So hot, right? I’m not worried. I can buy my way into any of these rooms. I was invited, after all.”
“And you’re just here to throw it away on a night in his bed?”
“I hear he’s worth it.”
“He definitely looks like he is, but you know he gives it away for free.”
“No one gives anythinggoodaway for free.”
“I suppose that’s true.”