Page 43 of The Scarab's Game
Dante’s jaw tightened. Did he have a story he wasn’t prepared to tell? He let go of my waist and took my hand as though helping me up the stairs to the hotel. “Care to make a wager?”
“About?”
He slowed as people filed into the revolving door. “Emmett will be waiting for you in the lobby.”
“He won’t.”
“So you’ll take my bet?”
“How much?”
“One kiss.”
This was himnotattempting to seduce me? What would he have done if he were going to try? Or was this a tactic?
“If I’m right about him, he wants you, so he’ll be waiting for you. And perhaps if he sees me kiss you, it will remind him to do something about his feelings.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then I’ve kissed a beautiful woman.” The corner of his lips lifted into a smirk. “And still, I win.”
“And if he’s not there?”
“Name your price.” He brought my hand to his lips. “Because I know he will.”
Emmett had apparently left Le Ciel before our dessert arrived. He could have been anywhere—in the room, at the Casino, at a club, or with his co-workers. What would he do in Monte Carlo when he wasn’t searching for an ancient Egyptian scarab? It was after ten, so he might have been asleep already.
“Take me to the auction on Friday as your guest.”
“This is your bargain? A date?”
“Not a date.” I pushed through the revolving door ahead of him. Once we were through, I tilted my head and said, “A business expense.”
He took my arm, and he laughed. “You use my words against me.”
We continued into the cavernous lobby, with its soaring ceiling, supported by columns topped with intricate carvings. The marble floors were polished, reflecting the chandeliers and wall-mounted lights. The grand staircase beyond a huge floral display added to the sense of elegance. Along either side of the lobby, people sat in plush chairs and sofas, while staff delivered food and drinks.
I paused beside the statue of Louis XIV near the entrance.
No Emmett anywhere to be seen.
My heart sank. Somehow, Dante had built the moment up as though it were a certainty, and I was… I was disappointed. Let down, almost.
“Do you know about the statue?” Dante gestured to Louis’s form on the back of a horse. He pointed at one of the front knees, which was far shinier than the rest of the statue. “Rubbing the horse’s right knee brings good luck.”
A few days ago, I’d thought I was the luckiest woman in the world—if I blocked Simon out of my brain. A trip to France, a whirlwind in Monaco, and an amazing job opportunity. It was someone else’s life.
But all I could see was how none of the people in the lobby were Emmett. He didn’t actually care. The faux concern at the gallery was nothing more than macho posturing. A desire to control me that ended the second I was out of sight.
Dante took my hand and placed it on the shiny knee. “You have to rub it, not stare at it.”
Under his firm touch, the palm of my hand slid over the spot where the patina couldn’t take hold. What luck could I hope for? Emmett already wasn’t there, so?—
“Jenn!” came a man’s voice that shot goosebumps up and down my arms.
I turned, my hand still in Dante’s, and blinked.
Emmett walked out of the lobby bar in his dark jeans and a collared shirt. “I thought you were out for the evening.”