One Exquisite Touch (The Extravagant #2)- Lauren Blakely Page 0,6

consent to share them.”

“I suppose, then, it’s the only way to forgive our great success. But I prefer Twain.” I clear my throat, leaning on the wisdom of the American writer, who sure knew how to tell it like it is. “To get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with.”

Daniel sets his hand on his heart. “Aww. So sweet that you want to share it with me. As they say here on your side of the pond, sharing is caring. But you know what I say?”

“Oh, are you going to quote yourself now?” I toss back, adjusting my cuff links as the car swings onto the main drag.

“Indeed I am. And I say the best way to share is to make a wager of it,” he says, reaching for a bottle from the console and pouring a glass of bourbon. “Fancy a wager, mate?”

I pour a glass too, liking the sound of wagers with the guy who’s been my closest friend since we were roommates in college, building our first business together, an underground card game at school, luring the wannabe card sharks. That business paid for most of my tuition, something I desperately needed it to do back then. Now, in some ways, I need these bets desperately too. Need them for other reasons—reasons Daniel understands all too well. “It’s easy to bet with you, since I clean up,” I say.

Daniel scoffs, leaning back against the leather seat, shaking his head. “I think not.”

“I think so. If memory serves, I’m ahead of you.” I lift the glass and take a swallow, savoring the burn, as I taunt him.

“You say that, Cole. But you seem to forget I have the advantage here.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” I ask, curious, but not letting on how curious.

His eyes glint, and he adopts the cockiest expression. “My accent makes me quite irresistible.”

“Ah, there you go again. Always leaning on the accent. Too bad it’s the only tool you have to use.”

“I don’t have to lean on it. It’s part and parcel of who I am. And I know how to use all my tools.”

“But you love to point out your accent. Maybe we need to handicap you. Maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to use it. See how well you fare without it.”

“Yes, just like the Little Mermaid,” he says deadpan, as he knocks back some liquor.

I deal him a skeptical look. “From Camus to The Little Mermaid? That’s how this evening is going to go?”

“I choose the most apropos examples for each situation. In this case, she wasn’t allowed to use her voice to seduce Prince Eric.”

I shoot him a hard stare. “We don’t want to seduce Prince Eric.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. But nor do I want to seduce Ariel. I like women who can speak. Who have agency.”

“Who make their own choices. Who are independent and strong,” I say, and I mean it. Our company has always provided equal pay for men and women, and many of our European properties are run by our newest business partner, Scarlett. We brought her on board a year ago, and she’s whip-smart, relentless, and brilliant.

But bets like this aren’t between business partners, per se. The wagers between Daniel and me are only between us, and they’re born from years of friendship. And also, more recently for me, from pain. From the need to move past it. And what better way to move beyond pain than through games?

I raise my glass. “And so, once again we drink to lady’s choice?”

“We bet on lady’s choice,” he adds, raising his glass, stretching his arm across the space between us and clinking it to mine.

I take a drink, then reach into the inside pocket of my coat, running a thumb over a chip. I take it out, showing it to him. “Five thousand.”

“Make it ten.”

We shake on it as we reach Aria, then head inside to the masquerade.

Eyes open.

Ready to find just the right woman.

3

Sage

The ballroom glitters.

A kaleidoscope of lights swirls from the ceiling, with rays of sapphire, fuchsia, and ruby skating across the dance floor, illuminating it, then darkening it.

It’s a mix of nightclub and ball, a cocktail of the two.

Sometimes the music is a waltz, other times it’s R & B or hip-hop. Couples twirl and glide, sway, and press.

From my post at the corner of the dance floor, my eyes eat up the feast of sights. The beautiful people, spinning in tandem. The music reverberating throughout the sumptuous room, accented in